Wyatt takes another breath. “What about the Balakins? Any sign of Yuri?”
“There haven’t been any direct sightings yet, but his people are moving one way or another,” I answer, recalling the briefs I received most recently.
“Where?”
“All over, but never for long. They’re keeping a low profile too, with or without Yuri.”
“And your cousins are still watching them?” Wyatt asks alongside a brief rustle on his end, like he’s shuffling papers.
“Artem’s at the helm on that front. He sends us updates as often as he can.”
Even if I haven’t seen Artem personally for some time, I can still picture his face in my mind. The way his subtle grindoesn’t always reach his eyes, almost like he knows something about you before you do. He’s good at this kind of thing, hence why Roman has passed it along to him and his siblings. Soon enough, Artem will root Yuri out.
“Good, then he can focus on them, and we’ll keep our eyes on the Grimaldis,” Wyatt murmurs, voice lowering slightly. “We need to talk strategy, Ivan.”
“We are.”
“I mean execution,” he corrects, tone revealing just a touch of exasperation. “We can talk all night about details, but it won’t get us anywhere unless we have a plan.”
Taking a deep breath of my own, I cross my arms. “Go on.”
“We can’t afford to wait anymore,” Wyatt says. “The Grimaldis took a hit when Orlando died, and it would’ve been best for us to strike then, but obviously, Carlo and Cesare were out of the picture. But now that we’ve spotted them, it means they’re cornered. If we continue to wait, we may lose this chance.”
Being cornered doesn’t mean they’re defenseless. Even if they’ve been in shambles after Orlando was shot, that still leaves his men. His resources. They have something to work with, I’m sure of it.
“You want to take them off the board, so we’ll do that. But it needs to be clean and quiet,” he continues. “Roman’s just starting to trust me, and I don’t need to jeopardize that by making a mess of this.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You want to stay in his good graces,” I murmur, continuing before I can stop myself, “What about Mila?”
Wyatt hesitates, and it’s enough to make my stomach lurch.
“She’s collateral.”
“She isn’t involved.”
“She’s a Grimaldi,” he murmurs. “That makes her involved by default.”
Closing my eyes, I pull in a quiet breath and lean my head back against the cold bricks. “She’s Orlando’s daughter, not one of his soldiers.”
“That wouldn’t have stopped Orlando from using her if he were still alive, and it won’t stop her brothers, either. And as I said, they’ll throw her into any equation if it means furthering their cause.”
“Then we find a way to work around her,” I tell him, not knowing where my stream of consciousness is taking me. “She isn’t like them.”
Wyatt pauses. “You sound awfully sure of that.”
Even if I should save face, I don’t say anything. I can’t.
“Ivan,” he says, sounding more like he’s onto me than anything else. “You’re dragging your feet.”
“No, I’m not. I’m trying to be thorough and cover all our bases,” I say, well aware that it’s a lie.
I am dragging my feet. I have been ever since I started surveilling her, even if that’s a hard thing to admit to myself.
“Right,” he adds, obviously not believing me. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve had a clear shot for weeks. You could’ve done anything to shorten this thing for us, yet you haven’t.”
“And if I did something to jump the gun, then it would’ve been me falling out of my brother’s good graces,” I mutter. “We have to minimize—”
“The risks, yeah, I know. You’ve only mentioned that every time we’ve discussed this.”
