Page 16 of The Bratva Betrayal

Benedikt squares his shoulders, and his expression hardens.

“You’re making this complicated.” He steps closer, stopping just short of the desk. “I’m not looking to have to kill a mob princess to keep my secrets a secret. So, unless you have a plan, I’m going to issue the order.”

He’s not wrong, but I’m irritated. He’s already moved to the end of the situation while I’m still working through the middle of it.

“She’s not better than me,” I say. “What’s your worry and rush?”

His eyes sharpen on mine, and for a second, I see his patience thinning.

“She started this,” he says, more force behind it now, “and I don’t know why.”

That lands heavier than anything else he’s said so far, because that’s the part that doesn’t sit right with me, either.

It’s not that she got in, or even that she poked around.

It’s that she had a reason to.

Benedikt exhales slowly. “The Irish have been pushing for more than a year. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Every meeting with Colin is the same conversation dressed differently,” he continues. “He wants more territory, more access, and more leverage in places that matter. Things that give him footing against us.”

“And you’re not giving it to him. I’m aware.”

“Correct.” The word comes out flat. “The second I do, it’s not an alliance. It’s a concession. And he knows it.”

I nod, because that’s the truth.

Colin Gallagher doesn’t negotiate to meet in the middle. He negotiates to take.

“He thinks he can push you into it,” I say.

“He’s been trying,” Benedikt replies. “And I’ve been letting him think he has time.”

“And now?” I ask.

“And now, his daughter is in your house,” he says quietly. “She’s dating your brother, going through my operations, my shipments, and my internal communication. Those things don’t leave this circle unless I decide they do.”

My grip tightens against my knee, but I don’t interrupt him.

“That’s not curiosity,” he continues, his gaze locking back onto mine. “That’s intent. And I don’t like not knowing which side of it she’s on.”

“I understand⁠—”

“Then act like it.”

I hold his gaze, letting the silence stretch just enough that he knows I’m not brushing this off, even if I’m not reacting the way he wants me to.

“She didn’t take anything,” I repeat, slower this time, more deliberate. “She didn’t send anything, either. If she were working directly for her father, we’d already be dealing with it.”

“Unless she’s not done yet,” he counters. “Unless she’s confirming something before he makes a move.”

That thought has already crossed my mind.

It’s the most reasonable explanation. And it’s why I didn’t shut her down last night.

“She’s looking for something specific,” I say again. “Which means she doesn’t have the full picture.”