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Mikhail flips through my report for the benefit of the room. “This favor system you describe can function as camouflage for resource transfers and quiet consolidation.”

“The message we received was specific,” Giorgi, one of the other uncles and always the least patient, says. “It identified not only Blue Note’s intentions but the methods they intended to use.”

“Messages can be fabricated,” I counter. “Especially in anonymous form.”

“Are you suggesting we ignore it on the basis of the tip being anonymous?” Giorgi scowls. “Will you also take accountability if the threat is proven real later?”

Mikhail inclines his head, as if conceding a point already decided. “The absence of evidence, Levon, is not evidence.”

My fingers twist together behind my back. This was what I feared would become the sticking point. As far as Mikhail is concerned, the only outcome he’ll accept is the Blue Note Crew as our enemy.

“They do not have the firepower⁠—”

“That you have seen,” Mikhail cuts in. “But have you been invited into their inner circle? Have you seen their warehouses?”

“No,” I begin. “Nor have I found proof they even have a warehouse⁠—”

“So you have not gained a trusted position within their crew to say for certain,” he cuts in, leaving no doubt about what he thinks my place is. “You have wasted nearly an entire month, and all you have to show for it is information we could have gained through paid investigators.”

My jaw clenches as Uncle Aram, square-jawed and not as clever as he thinks, murmurs his agreement. Giorgi adds a small mark to his pad without lifting his head. The sting of Mikhail’s censure never leaves me.

Alexei sits very still, hands steepled. “Lev said there is no active threat. That is not the same as saying there will not be one.”

My teeth grind at the distinction, but I do not disagree.

Mikhail turns back to Giorgi. “What about the inspection reports from our southern corridor?”

The older man lifts a folder from his lap. “Three points flagged for intervention. All consistent with Blue Note’s established patterns.”

A chill slides down my spine. “Which points?”

Giorgi keeps his attention on Mikhail as he answers. “Westridge, Tamberton, and the north junction.”

Three of our largest revenue sources, which are positioned near Blue Note’s established area of influence. But more importantly, three locations where we’ve pushed operations into what would have been neutral ground if Blue Note had been openly managing a territory.

“They’re being subtle,” Mikhail says with a note of triumph. “Without the tip, we never would have noticed them building power behind the scenes until it was too late to push back.”

The other uncles nod, the movement almost synchronized, and one by one, their attention shifts to Alexei, waiting for his final word.

“Escalation begins tomorrow,” Alexei says, sounding more tired than anything. “Quiet inspections of all north corridor operations. Supplier relationships renegotiated with terms that shift transportation away from Ashford Heights.” He pauses to look at me again. “And Lev will remain embedded.”

The moment Mikhail disregarded my report, I knew this was coming. I still can’t breathe past it.

“To continue gathering intelligence?” I manage.

“No,” Alexei says without any hint of remorse. “To function as leverage, if needed.”

“I suggest you increase your efforts to be brought into their inner circle.” Mikhail gives me a contemptuous once-over. “You’re an Omega in a den of Alphas. Surely it can’t be that difficult.”

I clench my fingers so hard that they go numb.

Alexei’s eyes flick to mine, and in that half-second, I read a tired apology, but also cold resolve. He expects me to do what it takes, to do what the family requires, even if I resent it.

I bow my head in acceptance.

Mikhail waves a hand. “You’re dismissed, Levon.”

I turn to Alexei, who flicks his hand toward the hallway, and my stomach sinks. He’s never dismissed me from a meeting before. Reaching out, I close the report and leave it on the table as I head for the door, more aware than ever of how little space exists between who I am and what is required of me.