Santi's pulse was still hammering in his ears when he slipped out of the Don's room, the cold metal keys clutched tight in his palm.
The hallway was quiet. Every creak in the wooden floor sounded like a gunshot in his head.
He reached Nico's door and pressed his ear to it. Silence.
Slowly, he twisted the knob.
A sudden cough echoed from down the hall. Santi froze, body stiff, eyes darting toward the sound.
Footsteps. Getting closer.
He slid inside the room in one sharp move, pulling the door shut just enough to leave the faintest crack.
A shadow passed in front of it.
Santi held his breath.
Only when the footsteps faded did he finally exhale, his hand still on the knob, heart pounding like it wanted out of his chest.
He slipped inside, closing the door behind him in one smooth move—only to find Nico sitting up on the bed, very much awake, eyes locked on him.
"Took you long enough," Nico said, his voice low and sharp, like he'd been expecting him the whole time.
