Nico's POV:

The house is too quiet.

I sit alongside my brother's in the living room, elbows on my knees, head hanging low. The fire crackles in the fireplace, casting a soft glow across the walls, but it doesn't make the space feel any warmer. Not to me.

Luca's still upstairs with Emilia, settling her in. I should be up there too. Should've offered to help. Should've at least looked at her when she came in, but I... I couldn't.

I run a hand down my face, exhaling slowly.

I was planning to keep my distance.

That was the plan. I told myself it was safer—for her, for me. I thought I could stay detached, stay cold. But the second I saw her, small and fragile in Luca's arms, that plan shattered.

She's so small.

So much smaller than I imagined. Pale skin, thin limbs, eyes too big for her face. She didn't even look at me, and God, why would she? I didn't deserve it.

My stomach twists.

How could I have been so stupid? So selfish?

While Luca was on the phone with the social worker, nearly breaking down when he heard what she'd been through, I was thinking about how this would inconvenience us. I actually thought that.

I lean forward, gripping my hair tightly.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She's our sister. Our baby sister. And while I was thinking about how hard it would be to adjust, she was being starved and beaten in some dark basement.

The image of her flinching away from Luca flashes in my mind. The way she barely spoke, how she curled in on herself like she was trying to disappear.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

God, I should've been there.

I should've protected her. I should've done something.

But I didn't.

And now? Now I don't even know how to look at her.

What if I scare her? What if she thinks I'm like him?

I drag in a shaky breath, staring into the flames.

Raffaele can handle this. Matteo can handle this. Even Luca, with all his anger, can handle this.

But me?

I don't know how to fix this.

I don't know how to be gentle.

But I want to.

I want to tell her she's safe now. I want to make sure she never feels afraid again. I want to hear her laugh—God, I bet it's soft and sweet.

But how do I even start?

I lean back, letting my head hit the couch.

Luca appeared at the top of the stairs, disturbing my thoughts. His steps were slow as he descended, but his expression didn't give anything away.

I didn't wait for him to speak.

"Well?" My voice was sharper than I meant it to be, but I couldn't help it. I had rained in my anger all day, opting to try my best and stay silent in fear I'd lose my temper, but I couldn't help but let it out now.

Luca stopped at the last step and looked at me. Blank, cold, like always. But there was something under it. Exhaustion maybe.

"She's asleep."

"That's it? She's just asleep?" I couldn't stop the edge in my voice.

Luca's jaw tightened. "What else do you want me to say, Nico?"

I stood up fast, the chair scraping loudly. "I want to know what we're doing! Sitting here isn't helping her!"

"She's terrified, Nico. She doesn't trust us," Luca said flatly. "We can't force it."

Matteo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He's right. She barely let me near her. We have to take this slow."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Slow? What if slow isn't good enough?"

Luca's eyes darkened. "She's not ready for anything else."

The words slammed into me. I wanted to argue, but he was right. And it made me feel even worse.

I dropped back onto the couch, leaning forward, elbows on my knees.

"I was gonna stay away from her," I muttered. "Thought maybe that'd help. Less yelling, less anger."

Matteo glanced at me. "You're not the problem, Nico."

"Aren't I?" I hissed. "She's up there scared out of her mind, and I've done nothing. What if she thinks I'm just another guy waiting to hurt her?"

Silence.

"She's not thinking that," Matteo said quietly, but he didn't sound sure.

Raffaele finally spoke up, his voice soft. "Then we show her we're not."

"How?" I snapped. "Because whatever we're doing isn't working."

Luca's tone dropped lower. "We make sure she feels safe. Here. At home. We focus on that first."

"And if the Russians come knocking?" I muttered.

Luca's eyes didn't waver. "Then they'll wish they hadn't."

The room went still.

Matteo leaned forward. "Let's take this one step at a time. Food. Rest. Trust. We'll worry about the rest if we have to."

I sucked in a shaky breath. He was right. Luca was right.

But none of this sat well with me.

"She's ours now," I said, voice low. "We don't get to screw this up."

Luca's gaze softened, just barely. "We won't."

I wished I believed him.