Page 68

Outside the council chamber, the corridor lies dark and empty.

I stand on the other side of the closed door for a long minute, spine straight, hands at my sides, and the silence costs me more than words ever could.

The meeting goes on for another two hours before the uncles step out of the room. I stay in the hidey-hole behind a tapestry until I catch the slow tread of Alexei passing.

Then, I slip out and walk a few paces behind him, shadowing his steps through two left turns and down a passage lined with museum-grade photographs of the family’s founders.

I don’t speak until he enters the ante-room beyond the main stair, a small space designed for quiet arguments or illicit phone calls.

The room is small, only big enough for a side table with a lamp, two armchairs positioned at an angle for quiet conversation, and a single window facing the eastern approach.

Alexei closes the door behind us. “Make it quick.” He checks his watch. “I have ten minutes before the next meeting.”

I get straight to the point. “There is no conflict of interest with the Blue Note Crew. Our business has never touched theirs.”

Instead of disagreement, Alexei stares at me with exhaustion. One hand moves to his cuff, fingers working loose a cufflink with a practiced motion, as if the gesture might release some of the pressure in the room.

“The Blue Note isn’t trying to build an empire,” I continue when he doesn’t speak. “Their entire focus is on exchanges within existing relationships, not on cultivating new ones.”

“Yes, I read your report.” The cufflink comes free, and Alexei turns it between his fingers, studying the family crest engraved in the gold. “If the message is false, someone wants us unprepared.”

The quiet acknowledgment makes it so much worse. This isn’t about the Blue Note at all. It’s about not appearing weak in front of the family.

“Who verified the message’s origin?” I demand. “Did anyone trace it past the neutral channel it arrived through?”

The slight hesitation before Alexei answers is all the confirmation I need. “The message’s origin is less relevant than its content.”

“No,” I counter. “Its origin is the only thing that matters. Either Blue Note is trying to expand, or someone else is trying to convince us they are.” I step closer. “And if it’s the second one, we’re about to give them exactly what they want.”

A crack appears in Alexei’s composure, acknowledgment maybe, or acceptance of a truth he’s been avoiding. “The message arrived through Martin. The council felt that verification was sufficient.”

Martin, who’s been retired for fifteen years and still thinks of himself as the family’s strategist despite the stroke-induced weakness in his right side. Martin, whose loyalties have always been to Mikhail first and the family second.

“And now the council is preparing to act on information that may not even be accurate.” I can’t hide my frustration. “We’re going to escalate hostilities toward a neutral party based on the word of someone who might be using us to settle an old score.”

“The council’s decision stands.” Alexei’s voice carries a note I recognize too well, the one telling me he’s heard me, considered my argument, and still reached the same conclusion. “Your position remains the same.”

“So we destroy the Blue Note without confirming whether they’re actually a threat.” I don’t phrase it as a question.

Alexei’s silence is answer enough.

My jaw clenches. “And Uncle Mikhail’s suggestion about how I get closer?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “You said you could do the job, Lev.”

My heart twists, and I turn away. “Understood.”

This isn’t the first time the family has targeted a neutral party to establish dominance and remind our real competitors that crossing the Vartanians has consequences. I’ve watched it happen from my place at Alexei’s side, understanding the calculation, respecting the strategy even when I didn’t agree with the target.

This is the first time I’ve questioned not the target, but the purpose itself.

Alexei’s quiet sigh gives me pause as I reach the door. “I’ll send you what I find about the leak.”

I don’t turn around. “You don’t have to protect me.”

His sigh fills the room. “It’s my job.”

But not at the expense of the family.