Chapter 28: Unraveling Loyalties (Nico POV)

The loft’s quiet, Silas sitting beside me, that USB from Jace still in his hand. “Tell me you didn’t kill him,” Jace had said, and it’s left Silas pale, staring at it like it’s a bomb. My head’s spinning too—tabloids, Mercer, Dante’s words about my rigged rise—but I’m holding it together, barely, for him. “You okay?” I ask, soft, touching his arm. He nods, slow, but his eyes are far off, lost in Cole’s crash. I’m about to say more when my phone buzzes loud on the table, breaking the silence.

I grab it, fast, screen lighting up—a text from Lena, my old crew manager: “Meet me. Alley off 5th. Now.” My stomach twists—she’s been with me since the start, booking gigs, keeping me steady. “Lena,” I say, loud, showing Silas. “Wants to talk.” He frowns, fast. “Careful,” he says, quiet, gripping the USB tighter. “Could be trouble.” I nod, slow, but I’ve got to go—she’s family, or was. “I’ll be quick,” I say, firm, grabbing my jacket, heading out.

The alley’s dark, wet from rain, trash piled high. Lena’s there, leaning on a wall, short hair tucked under a cap, eyes darting when she sees me. “Nico,” she says, low, stepping closer. I stop, hands in pockets, feeling off. “What’s up?” I ask, loud, keeping my distance. She shifts, slow, looking around. “Heard about the mess,” she says, quiet. “Tabloids, threats. You’re deep in it.” My chest tightens—her voice is weird, shaky. “Yeah,” I say, sharp. “You got something for me?”

She nods, fast, pulling out her phone, showing a blurry pic—me at a gig, some guy in a suit nearby. “This,” she says, low. “Found it in my old files. Thought it might help.” I squint, lean in—it’s Vance, from Mercer’s lead, close to me back then. “Where’d you get this?” I ask, loud, grabbing the phone. She pulls it back, quick, eyes hard now. “Doesn’t matter,” she says, sharp. “Just listen.”

My gut twists, bad vibes hitting. “Lena,” I say, slow, stepping closer. “What’s going on?” She looks away, fast, then back, face tight. “I messed up,” she says, quiet, voice breaking a little. “Sold stuff. About you.” My heart stops, and I stare, cold sinking in. “Sold?” I say, loud, voice shaking. “To who?” She steps back, slow, hands up. “Them,” she says, low. “The ones with the video, the lies.”

I freeze, anger rising fast. “You?” I yell, loud, stepping up. “You gave them me?” She nods, slow, eyes wet but steady. “Yeah,” she says, quiet. “They paid good, Nico. Kept me afloat.” My hands ball up, and I see it—her at rehearsals, my house, knowing everything—closer than I ever thought. “You were family,” I say, sharp, voice cracking. “How could you?” She shakes her head, fast. “I didn’t want this,” she says, loud. “It got big, out of hand.”

“Out of hand?” I yell, loud, shoving her back. She stumbles, catches herself, glaring now. “You don’t get it,” she says, sharp. “They had me too—debts, threats. I had no choice.” My chest burns, betrayal cutting deep—she booked my gigs, laughed with me, and sold me out. “No choice?” I say, loud, stepping closer. “You wrecked me!” She stands straight, voice steady. “You were already falling,” she says, cold. “I just sped it up.”

I pace, fast, head spinning—Dante’s words, “strings pulled,” now her selling me to them. “What’d you give them?” I ask, sharp, turning back. She shrugs, slow. “Dates,” she says, quiet. “Places, talks. Enough for the video, the tabloid.” My stomach drops—every move, every secret, handed over by her. “Why?” I say, loud, grabbing her arm. She pulls free, hard. “Survival,” she says, sharp. “You’d do it too.”

I shake my head, fast, feeling sick. “No,” I say, quiet, staring at her. “I wouldn’t.” She laughs, bitter, stepping back. “You’re soft,” she says, low. “Always were. That’s why they picked you.” My breath catches—picked me? Like Dante said, a toy for bigger hands. “Who’s they?” I yell, loud, lunging at her. She dodges, quick, heading for the alley’s end. “Doesn’t matter,” she says, sharp. “You’re done.”

I grab her jacket, yank her back, hard. “Tell me!” I yell, loud, shaking her. Her eyes flash, mean now. “You’re blind,” she says, sharp, pulling free again. “They’ve got everyone—crew, suits, even your boy’s crash.” My heart jumps—Cole? “What’s that mean?” I ask, loud, stepping up. She smirks, small, turning away. “Figure it out,” she says, low, walking off fast.

I’m shaking, alone in the alley, her words sinking in—everyone I trusted, gone, flipped. Silas is all I’ve got left, the only one not stabbing me. “Lena!” I yell, loud, but she’s moving, not stopping. I run after her, fast, needing more, when she spins, sudden, face hard. “You were never supposed to make it this far,” she says, slow, clear, then bolts, disappearing into the dark.

I stop, breath loud, her final words hitting like a punch—never supposed to make it? My knees buckle, and I lean on the wall, lost, trust shredded, nothing solid but Silas back home.