NERO’S GAME
About the size of a fingernail.
Nico leaned forward, eyes narrowing instantly. There was no physical reaction from him, but inside he was a mess.
Nero didn’t move, not immediately. For a heartbeat, he just stared at it, his expression unreadable. Then slowly, like something dangerous awakening, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth—but there was no humor in it.
“That,” Nico said quietly, “looks like…”
“It is,” Nero confirmed in a low, measured voice. “The chip.”
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