Chapter 2
The steel gate slides open with a mechanical hum, triggered by the recognition chip embedded in my ID card.
As I guide my car onto the gravel drive that curves toward the main house, my spine straightens and my jaw firms, the deliberate charm I cultivated for “Lee” sloughing off like an ill-fitting jacket.
Gravel crunches under my tires as I park in my assigned space. No dust rises to dirty my undercarriage or threaten to besmirch the suit I wear. The grounds crew keeps the drive immaculate, even in winter, with the rocks washed and raked weekly to prevent telltale tracks.
The security cameras mounted in the trees around the Vartanian compound track me as I emerge into the cold night air, my breath fogging white before fading away.
My brother’s head of security dips his head in greeting as I cross the threshold into the house. “Welcome home, sir. He’s waiting in the study.”
I murmur acknowledgment without slowing my pace.
The polished marble floors reflect my silhouette, and a single painting hanging on the deep burgundy walls is worth more than most people’s houses. My dress shoes clip down the corridor as I pass two more staff members, who acknowledge me with quick dips of their chins.
Alexei’s study sits at the end of the east wing, and a single lamp lights the room beyond in amber.
A massive mahogany desk dominates the center, with dark wooden shelves lining the walls, filled with leather-bound books that no one reads and digital storage devices holding the encrypted heart of the family business.
The scent of cedar hangs in the air, along with expensive cigar smoke, though Alexei doesn’t smoke.
My brother occupies the leather chair behind the desk, but when I enter, he rises to come around to meet me halfway.
As his hand settles on my shoulder, the years between us collapse, and the head of the Vartanian family and his subordinate vanish, leaving only two brothers.
“Lev. How have you been?”
“Fine, brother,” I say. “I’m hardly out on the streets, starving.”
“It appears that living in Ashford Heights agrees with you,” Alexei says, a dry note in his voice. “You look… softer.”
“Lee Espasito is meant to,” I reply. “As a graphic designer, new to town, who landed a remote contract that lets him afford a studio, he’s supposed to appear harmless.”
“And the background?”
“Clean. A history of contract work for shell companies they’ll never trace back to us. He’s a ghost. But living alone… You were right to be concerned. It’s different.”
Alexei gestures to a chair angled toward the desk instead of across from it, a placement that avoids opposition. It sits close enough to his chair for us to speak without raising our voices.
I sit, hands on my knees, my posture perfect.
Alexei resumes his seat, leaning forward. “Tell me everything.”
“First of all, whoever profiled Orien’s ideal type as a helpless twink was mistaken and should be fired.”
“Those files were built from secondhand accounts, not direct observation,” Alexei says. “What happened last night. I want more details than what you gave me over the phone.”
I recount the other Alpha’s aggressive approach and the way Orien watched from the bar without moving to intervene.
“He clocked right away that I could take care of myself. Lucky for us, he’s into that type.”
Alexei absorbs the information. “What did you make of him?”
“Hard to say from one encounter,” I admit. “He’s careful. Controlled. He manages the room without appearing to. I don’t think he’ll be as easy to seduce as our intel said he would be.”
Alexei rubs his chin. “Are you saying you can’t do this?”
“Oh, I can do this.” I remember that moment of awareness that passed between us. “But…”
Alexei arches a brow in question.
“I’m concerned. Based on what our people have figured out about the Blue Note crew, Orien acts as their fixer.”
“This is why I was hesitant to put you on this job, Lev,” he murmurs. “If you get too close and become a security risk…”
“I don’t think he’ll let me get near enough for that.” I keep my voice even. “And I’ll only be there long enough to figure out if they’re a threat to the family. After that, I’ll ensure he finds me so unpleasant that he’ll be happy to see me leave.”
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Alexei leans back slightly, thoughtful. “And the lounge itself? What did you observe?”
I describe the bar, the sightlines, and the way security was positioned. “I wasn’t able to breach the back rooms, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Alexei regards me in silence for a long moment while I keep my hands motionless on my knees. “And his temperament, beyond his actions?”
“Disciplined. Non-reactive.” The description comes easily, even after only one encounter. “Not impulsive or aggressive.”
Alexei picks up the pen on his desk and jots down a note. “That increases the danger he poses.”
“Yes,” I agree. “But also more predictable, in his way.”
As Alexei continues to write notes, the lamp highlights the strong line of his jaw and the faint threads of silver at his temples.
Only eight years separate us, but I still feel like a child peering through a doorway into the adult world. The burden of the family settled onto my brother’s shoulders long before I understood what it meant.
“You did well,” he says, not taking his attention off his notepad. “Continue as planned. Maintain contact, but don’t rush it.”
“Yes.”
“And Lev?”
I straighten my spine even more.
“He’s not to know who you are. Not until we’re certain of the motivations of his crew.”
“I’ll keep my identity a secret.”
“You’re the only one I trust. You know that, right?” His pen pauses. “I can’t lose you.”
This trust is about more than me being family, or being trained. Alexei trusts me to understand what’s at stake. Not for the business, but for the family itself.
“I’ll be careful,” I say.
The door to the study opens without a knock, the sudden invasion of cooler hallway air washing over my skin. I don’t flinch, but my back stiffens a fraction as Uncle Mikhail steps into the room. He’s dressed in a charcoal suit with no tie, the top button of his shirt undone.
Alexei doesn’t acknowledge him right away in a subtle show of dominance.
The single lamp throws long shadows across the desk, leaving half of him swallowed in darkness while he finishes a note in neat, meticulous script.
His fingers tighten around the pen, strained knuckles betraying his irritation at the interruption.
He lifts his head at last, every trace of irritation buried beneath perfect control. “Uncle Mikhail. What do you have for me?”
Mikhail places a single sheet of paper between Alexei and me, the heavy stock watermarked with the family’s secure internal seal.
Block-cipher headers mark the top of the page, followed by two full sections blacked out with thick redaction bars. At the bottom, a final paragraph remains visible.
As I scan it, key phrases jump out.
…deliberate and sustained effort… reposition against Vartanian corridor interests… favor-based operational model… deliberate camouflage.
My thoughts accelerate as I compare the wording to what I witnessed at the club, but I say nothing as I look up at Mikhail.
“We’ve had this for two days. The source is one of our embedded contacts.” His attention slides to Alexei. “I thought it should be brought to your attention immediately, given our current… situation.”
A muscle twitches in Alexei’s cheek. “The timing is interesting.”
“I thought so, too.” Mikhail allows himself the barest curve of amusement. “It confirms what we’ve been hearing anecdotally for months. That Blue Note is positioning itself to move on our holdings.”
“It’s a single report,” Alexei says. “With significant redactions.”
“The redactions are necessary,” Mikhail replies. “To protect our source.”
I catalogue the micro-expressions that cross both men’s faces.
Mikhail stands with his weight shifted slightly forward, his shoulders squared, expecting resistance.
Alexei does not move beyond the quiet rhythm of his breathing, but a colder focus settles over him, bringing Mikhail to mind with uncomfortable force.
“The references to our distribution network are concerning,” Alexei acknowledges. “If they’ve identified our corridors—”
“Then they’re planning to cut them,” Mikhail finishes. “Or leverage them.” He taps the document once with his index finger. “That they’re working to establish influence points rather than confront us suggests they’re playing a long game.”
My mind races. If the Blue Note is positioning to move on us, my approach needs to change. The infiltration becomes higher risk, but also more valuable.
“I’ll have Lev verify,” Alexei says finally. “His contact is already established.”
Mikhail’s attention shifts to me for the first time. “The timing of this mission was more fortuitous than we knew.”
“It was not fortuitous that our family’s business was leaked,” Alexei states in a cold tone. “Your lack of keeping a stable handle on the group you oversee necessitated this investigation into the Blue Note.”
Mikhail stiffens. “Which is why I offered to clean up the mess myself.”
“Levon is less circumspect.” Alexei’s expression hardens. “We do not need this group of street thugs knowing that we’re looking into them until we’ve made a decision on how to move forward.”
“Of course,” Mikhail acknowledges with a slight incline of his head, but the gesture lacks conviction. “Though I wonder if a single point of contact is sufficient for verification of this scale.”
He leans forward, resting his palms on the edge of the desk. “Perhaps we should consider a more… comprehensive approach.”
The suggestion stops short of directly challenging Alexei’s authority, but tension still hums through the room.
Mikhail gives away nothing openly, but he never quite meets Alexei head-on. He’s maneuvering through a long game of his own, one rooted in family instead of territory.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” Alexei says, giving nothing away.
Mikhail straightens and adjusts his cuffs. “I’ve left a copy of the full document in your secure drop. The unredacted copy, of course, for your eyes only.”
He turns to me. “Be careful, Levon. If the Blue Note is planning something, they’ll be watching for exactly this kind of approach.”
The warning carries a current of concern that might also be manipulation.
“I understand.”
He turns to go, but pauses at the door. “I’m having dinner with the council tomorrow night. I hope you’ll both join us. We can discuss next steps.”
It’s not a request.
Alexei inclines his head. “We’ll be there.”
After Mikhail leaves, Alexei crosses to the door and closes it with a soft, definitive click. The sound seems to echo in the suddenly quieter room.
“He didn’t knock,” I say, angered on Alexei’s behalf at the disrespect.
“No,” Alexei murmurs. “He did not.”
He strides to the sideboard along the far wall and pours two fingers of whiskey into a crystal tumbler, amber catching in the lamplight. He doesn’t offer me one, which means he expects me to leave soon.
“I don’t trust it,” he says, his back to me as snow swirls beyond the window in the glow of the security lights. “The message, the timing, the delivery… It feels staged.”
“Yes.” I glare at the offensive piece of redacted trash. “Mikhail is using it to try to force your hand.”
Uncle Mikhail hadn’t liked my brother’s decision to investigate the Blue Note crew instead of wiping them out when they came into possession of important financial documentation that our family would rather have stayed hidden.
The leak had come from a third party under one of Mikhail’s money laundering businesses, and he had pushed to clean up the mess completely.
To him, Alexei’s caution is weakness. He never approved when my brother took over the family business after our parents’ untimely demise. But Alexei was next in line, not our uncle, however much he wishes it were different.
“I’m aware of our uncle’s schemes. But I can’t afford to dismiss the information, either.” He turns, glass in hand, his expression grave. “Not with the internal breach from months prior still unresolved. The family is unsettled.”
Mikhail’s appearance served a dual purpose. He delivered the document while also demonstrating that he has information Alexei doesn’t, showing the family council that power exists outside the inherited line.
“I’ll be careful,” I say.
Alexei takes a sip of his whiskey before he sets the glass down on the desk with a soft clink. “You’re the only person I would send into this, Lev. You’re the only one I trust to read the situation right.”
For eight years, since my brother came into power, I’ve used the way the Alphas in the family overlook me, an Omega, to be his eyes and ears. Our loyalty goes beyond blood, forged in the ashes of a funeral pyre.
He has me, and I have him. There is no one else.
I straighten, meeting him with equal directness. “I’ll confirm the threat or the absence of one. I will not take our family to war to cover for our uncle’s mistakes.”
Alexei dismisses me with a flick of his hand, and I head back through the house toward the front door.
Snow swirls through the night when I push outside, cold air stinging my skin after the heavy warmth indoors. My breath fogs white as I walk toward my idling car, heat already spilling through the vents.
The valet inclines his head as I approach, opening the door for me.
I slide behind the wheel, letting my body relax into the soft leather. And as I drive away from the compound, the gates sliding shut behind us, I let Lee settle over me once more.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to the Blue Note. It won’t be Thursday, but Orien needs to learn he won’t be the one dictating when I come and go from the lounge.
I can talk to other people there to assess if a threat exists, or if the document Mikhail brought is pure manipulation.
And if Orien is there, his attention lingering on me the way it did before… Well. Occupational hazard.
Nothing more complicated than that.