Page 161 of The Hunter's Empire

"I'm choosing not to answer that."

He reaches for an egg, cracks it against the counter with more confidence than skill, and promptly watches half of it miss the bowl entirely.

He stares at the mess.

"I've decided these eggs have something against me."

"They're eggs."

"Exactly." He points at the yolk slowly making its way across the countertop. "They're organized."

I laugh once or twice before quickly trying to hide it.

"You are doing this on purpose." I say, shaking my head. "Stop trying to cheer me up. It isn't working."

A faint smile touches Nico's lips as he sets a plate in front of me. Instead of stepping away, he reaches for my hands, gently wrapping his fingers around them before leaning down just enough for our eyes to meet.

"It is working. You smiled."

"I did not."

"You forgot to be sad for a few seconds."

I look away, trying to hide the smile threatening to betray me. "That doesn't count."

"It counts to me." His thumb brushes lightly against my knuckles before he straightens again.

"I'll take every smile I can get from you... even the ones you pretend I didn't earn."

I roll my eyes, but the warmth in my chest is impossible to ignore. It isn't enough to erase everything that happened the night before, but for a few precious minutes, it dulls the edges.

We settle at the table with our slightly questionable breakfast. The toast is a little too dark, the eggs are overcooked, and the coffee is far stronger than it needs to be. But somehow, none of it matters. The quiet feels comfortable, almost domestic, and strangely normal considering the chaos we've been living through.

Halfway through the meal, Nico sets his fork down. The shift in him is immediate.

The teasing disappears from his face, replaced by a heaviness that makes my stomach tighten before he even speaks. He stares into his coffee for several long seconds, his thumb absently tracing the rim of the mug.

"There's something I should've told you a long time ago."

The weight behind those words steals the last of my appetite. Without saying anything, I place my fork beside my plate and give him my full attention.

He draws in a slow breath. "My father's name was Vittorio Valenti."

The name is unfamiliar, but the pain behind it isn't.

"For years, Marcus, your father, made me believe my father died in a war between rival criminal organizations when I wassixteen." His jaw tightens. "I believed every word because I was a grieving child looking for someone to blame."

He falls silent for a moment before continuing. "It wasn't true."

I don't interrupt.

"My father wanted to leave. He'd spent years helping Marcus build the empire, but eventually he wanted out. Marcus refused to lose the man who'd built so much of it beside him..."

His voice grows quieter. "So he killed him."

The words settle heavily in my chest. I have never been naive enough to believe that dad was innocent. I know the empire he built came at the cost of countless lives. But hearing that one of those lives was Nico's father makes it painfully personal.

For the first time, the consequences of dad's choices are no longer distant stories buried in the empire's history. They're sitting across from me, wearing Nico's face.