Dante’s pov

I sat in Nico's apartment, surrounded by the gentle hum of his laptop in the quiet, while he scrolled through ream after ream of files, searches, and encrypted data. An hour and a quarter passed, and none of us spoke. The weight of what we were trying to do hung between us, poised on the edge of a loaded gun. I leaned forward, rubbing my hands through my face. "Anything?" Nico didn’t reply right away. He rapidly tapped on the keyboard, his sharp gaze scanning the screen. ...