Eleanor’s POV.

“Holy shit,” Paul breathes out the curse next to me.

The Mancini brothers exploded the lid off of the pressure cooker we had been simmering in. We all sat silently in their beautifully warm dining room. I could feel Enzo’s eyes on me as I traced the pattern of the table’s wood grain with my eyes. My mind was reeling, processing the news that had just been dropped on us.

“We can’t use any of this,” I said quietly.

“What?” ...