I shake my head and hurry after Elio. By the time he's behind his desk, I've reached his room.

Slava is furious, shooting daggers at me with her piercing blue eyes. The guy who helped me and the one who shot Aaron have sunk into the black armchairs.

I have to learn their names if I'm going to stay here longer.

"Close the door, will you?" Elio glances at me from the screen of his computer and I nod, shutting the door before walking further inside.

"Vhat is she doing herre?" she glares at me, to highlight her resentment she's speaking in English. I'm already feeling sorry for the poor soul who'll have to put up with this she-devil as her mother-in-law.

He answers in fluent Russian, not once looking away from the screen. I situate myself on the single unoccupied couch, the black loveseat placed across from his desk.

Incredulously she looks at him, harshly saying something back in Russian which he only lifts a shoulder in answer.

"If zat flash drrive is not found, I vill empty all bullets of my gun in your head." She glowers at me

"Good to know." I cross my legs and from the corner of my eye, I catch the guy who helped me smile and exchange a short glance with Elio.

"And I vill send yourr stupid head to yourr stupid papa," she adds, hatred glinting in her hard eyes.

"Okay." I lay my palm on my knee.

On my right, the hazel-eyed guy coughs and shifts uncomfortably as if trying to hold back his laughter. The bulkier one on my left remains brooding as ever.

"Marco," Elio calls, and the guy on my right, perks up, growing serious.

I arch an eyebrow, so the guy who helped me is Marco, I note to myself, memorizing his name.

Elio asks something in Italian and Marco answers with, "No." Making Elio's features draw together as he leans back in his seat.

"In the past twenty-four hours a lot of people have come and gone from the building," Elio looks at me, rubbing his chin. "But five were suspicious, not with keys, and they moved together... like an organized team."

"So how will you find out who were those people?"

"My men are trying to access footage, anyone who entered the street and preferably the footage of your building's hidden camera if there is any."

"I can call the landlord and ask him to give us the footage," I suggest.

"Isn't thata tooo suspicious?" Marco asks, glancing between us.

"Why would it be? He knows I'm a prosecutor... I'll tell him I need the images for security purposes."

Marco nods, seemingly convinced.

"His number?" Elio leans forward, opening a drawer of his mahogany desk.

"It's in my phone," I mutter.

He halts, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Where is my phone?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Destroyed," he flatly says, bringing out a burner phone and throwing it on his desk.

"What!"

"Securrity purrposes." Marco smiles at me.

I huff.

The bulky guy on my left for the first time moves, planting his elbows on his knees, and starts talking in Italian. His voice is rough and deep, a kind of voice you'd expect to hear from a criminal. It matches his appearance.

Elio nods, furrowing his brows. It takes him a while to reply, but when he does, it's short, about two-three words maybe, and the guy nods, leaning back into his seat.

"Pietro is suggesting we access your iCloud to retrieve the number," Elio explains. "I'll wait a few more minutes and if my men fail to gather the information we need, we'll do that."

"I'm not giving you my iCloud password."

"Fine, we'll hack into it." He twirls a pen between his fingers, the same infuriating smirk returning to his face.

I glower at him.

"You'll get used to it." The amusement in his features offers a playful glint to his dark eyes, making them more captivating.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms in front of my chest.

And so, we wait. Slava keeps her fiery gaze fixated on me. Pietro seems bored and Marco taps his left foot on the ground.

At last, the phone on Elio's desk rings and he receives it instantly. His eyes focus on the library, a faraway look taking over them. "Bene," he says and hangs up.

Instantly he begins clicking away and with his hand motions me to himself. "Come."

I tread to his desk, leaning over the edge as he turns the screen in my direction. Marco and Pietro scrutinize the pictures his men have captured and the four videos playing at the bottom of the screen.

"Essi," Pietro calls out, pointing at the people in the video climbing the stairs of my building.

I frown, they seem pretty normal to me, except for the fact that they're huddled together and moving as one.

"Messicani," Pietro adds.

"They're Mexicans?" I ask to ensure I've caught on correctly.

Elio gives a solemn nod before turning his attention to Pietro and speaking Italian the only word I recognize is 'Rodríguez', and I frown.

Pietro nods, ready to head out, but I stop him, starting, "Wait. If you guys are planning on asking them for help to identify these people, then I have to say, there was an entire folder dedicated to the Rodríguez crime family, if they're aware of this, I doubt they'll help you."

"You surre?" Marco asks with urgency and I nod.

Elio curses under his breath. Slava on the other hand shrugs and says something in Russian earning a glare from Elio.

Pietro rubs his brow as Marco folds his arms, gazing at the library. "Any sugggestions what to do?" Marco fixes his hazel eyes on me, curiously looking at me.

I shuffle my feet and lift a shoulder as I chew my bottom lip. Of course, I have an idea... but would I benefit from telling them?

"She not gonnna helpa." Pietro speaks in English for the first time.

I roll my eyes. Looks like these bastards only use English when they want to insult me and be certain that I'm aware of it.

I release my exhale in a sharp blow of air. "Aren't you guys outlaws?" I raise my eyebrows. Earning three pairs of confused gazes and one skeptical one. "If you haven't already hacked into the Mexican database, where they have everyone's name, pictures, and IDs... the police's database, hack into that."

"That's-" Elio starts but Slava interrupts him.

"Possible. Vorth ze risk."

Marco nods in agreement while Pietro and Elio remain hesitant.

For a long moment, Elio stares at the screen before sighing and breaking into counting a list of orders at Pietro. With a nod he leaves the room as Elio begins sending files to a private server.

Afterward, Elio hits on the play button of the hidden camera footage, putting it on fast forward. As the timer runs ahead, not an hour into it, I spot a familiar figure and squint at the screen.

Elio puts the video at normal speed and my eyes widen when the familiar figure comes into view again. My dad.

"What is he doing here?" Elio growls.

"I didn't tell him anything about the flash drive and the data," I quickly say, glancing up at him.

The glint of fury has returned to his hardening features. Slava has her hands fisted so hard her knuckles have turned white.

Uncomfortably, I gulp noisily.

He knows where I hide crucial data because I've learned it from him. I did not need this new complication.

Is it possible he has found one of the flash drives? Or possibly whatever data was left after the Mexicans?

Shit shit shit.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

The plot thickens XD Okay, I know the story is going somewhat slow, but I'm trying to get a hang of writing this genre (which by no means is easy).

Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, tell me what do you think about it, any guess about what might happen?

Thank you for reading this chapter, don't forget to vote if you enjoyed.

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡♡♡