“They are tracing the download back to our secure IP addresses.”

One of the captains behind him, a man named Henderson, nodded in agreement.

“We cannot afford federal heat, Damiano,” Henderson said.

“Not now,” he added. “Not for some girl you brought off the street.”

I kept my face still, though my chest felt tight.

“The files are fake,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected.

Silvio laughed, a harsh, dry sound.

“Fake or not, the federal agents don’t care,” Silvio said.

“They have a warrant with your name on it, girl,” he sneered.

Silvio turned back to Damiano, his hands resting on his belt.

“We need to cut her loose,” Silvio said.

“We hand her over to her ex-partner, or we hand her to the police.”

“Either way, she leaves this house tonight.”

The room went completely silent.

I could hear the rain tapping against the glass behind us.

I looked at Damiano, waiting for his response.

His face was unreadable, like carved stone.

He reached out and picked up the document Silvio had thrown.

He flipped through the pages slowly, deliberately.