Chapter 17 · Last Job

"Sign it," Uncle Sal says, "or I finish the sentence for you, nephew."

Nico doesn't look at him. His hand is still wrapped around mine, pen trapped between my fingers, tip already touching the line that says GROOM in block letters. My real name is one stroke away from being permanent.

"Get out, Sal." Nico's voice is flat. Bored, almost. Like his uncle didn't just kick a door off its hinge.

"I asked you a question." Sal steps further into the office, cane tapping the floor like a countdown. "Is that a real registration or one of your little theater props?"

"Does it matter to you?"

"It matters to Marco's forty grand." Sal's eyes cut to me. "Does he know he's the collateral, or did you skip that part, Nicky?"

My stomach drops through the floor. I yank my hand back but Nico doesn't let go. His grip tightens, not painful, just final, like a door locking.

"Don't," he says to me, quiet. Not to Sal. To me.

"Don't what." My voice comes out ragged. "Don't ask why my brother's debt is sitting on a table between us like a poker chip?"

"I told you I'd handle Marco.