Chapter 32: Partners in Crime (Silas POV)

The motel room’s dim, Nico still asleep against me, his phone glowing with that text, “try closer to home,” burning in my head. It’s morning now, light creeping through the curtains, and I’m restless, mind spinning. “Wake up,” I say, soft, nudging him. He stirs, slow, blinking at me, confused. “What?” he asks, voice rough, sitting up fast when he sees my face. I show him the message, steady. “This,” I say, loud. “We’ve got to check it out.” He nods, quick, rubbing his eyes, fear flickering back.

We’re out fast, bags slung over our shoulders, streets quiet as we head to Ronan, a tech guy I know, shady but sharp, deals in hacks and forensics. The text said “closer to home,” and my gut says it’s tied to Nico’s gear, his crew. “Ronan’s off 4th,” I say, low, leading us through alleys, keeping low. Nico’s beside me, tense, hands in his pockets. “You trust him?” he asks, quiet, glancing around. I shrug, slow. “Enough,” I say, firm. “He’s our shot.”

Ronan’s place is a basement, door scratched up, air thick with burnt circuits and coffee. He’s there, short, wiry, glasses smudged, looking us over when we walk in. “Silas,” he says, flat, nodding at Nico. “And the star. What’s up?” I drop Nico’s phone on his table, quick. “This,” I say, loud, pointing at the text. “And a video leak. Need you to dig.” He frowns, slow, picking it up. “Risky,” he says, low, leaning back. “Who’s after you?”

Nico steps up, sharp. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, loud. “Can you help or not?” Ronan smirks, small, and I put a hand on Nico’s shoulder, light, calming him. “Please,” I say, steady, meeting Ronan’s eyes. He sighs, slow, grabbing a laptop. “Fine,” he says, quiet, plugging the phone in. “But if this blows back, I’m out.” I nod, fast, and we watch, close now, my arm brushing Nico’s, feeling his heat through the tension.

Ronan’s fingers fly, screens flashing code I don’t get, and Nico’s shifting, nervous beside me. “What’s it say?” he asks, loud, leaning in. Ronan stops, slow, staring at the screen. “Spyware,” he says, quiet, turning to us. “On your phone, your laptop too maybe. Someone close planted it.” My stomach twists, and Nico freezes, breath catching. “Close?” he says, low, voice shaking. Ronan nods, steady. “Yeah,” he says, firm. “Inner circle. Had access, knew your moves.”

Nico steps back, fast, hands in his hair, face pale. “No,” he says, quiet, shaking his head. “Not again.” I grab his arm, soft, pulling him to me. “Hey,” I say, low, keeping him steady. “We’ll figure it out.” He looks at me, eyes wet, devastated, Lena’s betrayal still raw, now this, deeper, worse. “Who?” he asks, loud, turning to Ronan. “Who did it?” Ronan shrugs, slow. “Can’t tell yet,” he says, calm. “Need more.”

I nudge Nico, light, my hand sliding to his shoulder, resting there. “We’ve got this,” I say, quiet, feeling him lean into me a little, trusting me to hold it together. He nods, small, and mutters, soft, “I don’t know how I’d do this without you.” My chest tightens, words hanging there, heavy, and I don’t answer, just squeeze his shoulder, pulling him along as Ronan digs deeper, screens buzzing with data.

“Video next,” I say, loud, tossing the flash drive from Cole’s stuff onto the table. “Metadata, anything.” Ronan plugs it in, quick, pulling up the leaked clip, us in the loft, twisted worse than real. “Modified,” he says, slow, scrolling fast. “Weeks before it hit. Planned, not rushed.” My heart jumps, and Nico’s beside me, tense, our arms touching now, steadying each other. “Weeks?” I ask, sharp, leaning in. “Who?”

Ronan runs something, lines flashing, then stops, pointing. “High up,” he says, quiet. “Someone with pull in your world, Nico. Crew, management maybe.” Nico’s breath hitches, and I feel it, another knife, close, personal. “My team,” he says, low, voice breaking again. I slide my hand down his arm, soft, gripping his wrist now, keeping him here. “We’ll find them,” I say, firm, meaning it deep.

He nods, slow, leaning harder into me, and I don’t pull away, small touches, unconscious, keeping us tight. Ronan’s still working, pulling files, and I watch, close to Nico, feeling his shake calm a little. “Here,” Ronan says, loud, opening a decrypted bit, code, dates, a name blurred at the edge. “Metadata’s got a signature,” he says, steady. “Tied to your circle, Nico. Big player.” My gut twists, closer to home, just like the text said.

I stare at the screen, hard, the name almost clear, and my hand tightens on Nico’s wrist, grounding us both. “Who is it?” I ask, loud, voice rough. Ronan zooms in, slow, letters forming, when the lights flicker, then cut out, plunging us into dark. “What the hell?” Nico says, sharp, grabbing my arm now, tight. Ronan curses, low, slamming his laptop shut, and I hear it, footsteps, heavy, outside the door, coming closer.

My heart’s racing, and I pull Nico back, fast, whispering, “Quiet,” as the steps stop, right there, waiting.