The family heads filed out of the conference room in tense silence, their faces carved from stone but their body language screaming displeasure. Viktor moved first—the intelligent version, still carrying his tablet, his movents precise and controlled. Lucius Moretti followed, fedora clutched in one hand, the other clenched into a fist at his side. O’Rourke’s scarred face twisted with barely suppressed anger as he passed through the doorway. The Kurobane head said nothing, but his jaw was set tight enough to crack teeth.
They weren’t just displeased. They were furious.
Marcello had dismissed them. Sent them away like children told to leave the adults’ table. For what? To grant a private audience to so Arican nobody who’d been caught red-handed working with their enemies? Kyle should be dead already—bullet in the brain, body disposed of, a clear ssage sent to anyone who thought they could infiltrate or manipulate the families. Instead, the Don wanted to talk to him alone? It was unprecedented. Insulting. Dangerous.
"This is a mistake," Lucius muttered as they reached the hallway, his Italian accent thick with frustration. "Marcello is too soft with this boy. We should have put him down the mont Viktor presented the evidence."
"The Don has his reasons," Viktor said calmly, though even he seed uncertain about what those reasons might be. "We wait. We trust his judgnt."
"His judgnt just cleared the room of witnesses," O’Rourke growled, his voice like gravel. "If that boy walks out of there alive, what ssage does that send? That we can be played? That outsiders can manipulate us without consequence?"
They gathered in the spacious hallway, pacing like caged wolves, each lost in their own calculations about what this ant for the alliance, for their territories, for the power balance that Marcello had so carefully constructed.
Isabeau stood slightly apart from the others, her elegant composure intact but her mind racing. She’d walked into unknown territory the mont Kyle had asked that question about Marcello’s daughter. No one had ever seen the Don react that way—that microsecond of panic, that crack in the armor he’d worn for seventeen years. Kyle knew sothing. Sothing significant enough to make Marcello clear an entire room of the most powerful cri lords in the country.
But what? What could Kyle possibly know that would—
Her thoughts were interrupted by a presence at her elbow. She turned to find Lucius Moretti studying her with those sharp, calculating eyes, the ones that had built an empire on reading people’s weaknesses.
"Walk with ," he said quietly, not quite a request. He gestured down a side corridor, away from the other family heads.
Isabeau’s stomach tightened, but her face remained neutral. "Is there sothing you need, Lucius?"
"Just a conversation." His smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Away from curious ears."
She had no choice but to follow. Refusing would look suspicious, and right now, suspicion was the last thing she needed. They walked down the corridor in silence, their footsteps muffled by expensive carpeting. The other family heads remained in the main hallway, too absorbed in their own frustrations to notice two of their number breaking away.
Lucius led her to a smaller sitting room—one of the mansion’s many secluded spaces designed for private discussions. Dark wood paneling, leather furniture, the faint sll of cigar smoke clinging to the air. He gestured for her to enter first, then followed, closing the door firmly behind them with a soft click that sounded far too final.
"What is this about?" Isabeau asked, keeping her voice cool and professional even as her pulse quickened.
Lucius didn’t answer imdiately. He walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking out at the manicured grounds. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but edged with sothing dangerous.
"There’s sothing off about you, Isabeau."
She forced a laugh, light and dismissive. "Off? Lucius, I think the stress of this situation is getting to all of us. Kyle’s connections to Nakamura, the potential security breach—"
"Not that." He turned to face her, and the look in his eyes made her blood run cold. "Your reaction in there. When Kyle questioned the girl. When Marcello panicked. You looked..." He searched for the word. "Surprised. But not surprised enough. Like you were watching a play you’d already seen, except soone changed the ending."
"That’s absurd," Isabeau said, but even she could hear the slight strain in her voice. "I was as confused as everyone else."
"Were you?" Lucius took a step closer. "Because from where I sat, you looked like soone whose plan just went sideways. Like you’d expected Kyle to accuse Viktor, expected a clean execution or exile, and instead the whole thing veered into territory you didn’t anticipate."
Isabeau’s mind raced. How much did he suspect? How much could she afford to deny without making it worse? "Lucius, I understand tensions are high, but accusing of—"
"I’m not accusing you of anything," he interrupted, his voice dangerously soft. "Yet. I’m simply observing. Noting inconsistencies. You contacted Marcello about Kyle in the first place, didn’t you? Arranged for him to be brought here?"
"I was doing my duty," Isabeau said firmly. "When I discovered Kyle’s connections to Nakamura, I reported it imdiately to—"
The door opened.
Both of them turned sharply. Viktor stood in the doorway, his massive fra filling the entrance. The intelligent version, his eyes moving between Isabeau and Lucius with clinical assessnt.
"Am I interrupting?" he asked, his cultured voice neutral but his presence radiating calculated intrusion.
Lucius’s jaw tightened. "We were having a private conversation."
"So I see." Viktor stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with deliberate care. "Which is precisely why I’m here. Private conversations, at a ti like this, when our Don has dismissed us all? They tend to breed... misunderstandings. Suspicions."
He looked directly at Isabeau, and she felt the weight of that analytical gaze dissecting her every micro-expression.
"So perhaps," Viktor continued, his voice carrying the gentlest threat, "whatever concerns Lucius has, they should be shared with all of us. Transparency, after all, is what keeps alliances strong."
Isabeau stood trapped between two of the families’ most dangerous minds, both of them circling sothing they sensed but couldn’t quite na.
The walls were closing in from every direction.
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