“All while positioning himself to expand west onto our turf,” Spike growls.
“Ruining the Shadows’ reputation,” I say. “Undermining our alliance. Opening territory.”
“Not caring who died in the process,” Maverick says quietly.
The room shifts.
Because this isn’t about money anymore.
This is about disrespect.
Martello didn’t just try to profit.
He tried to manipulate two organizations into tearing each other apart.
“And he thought he could hide behind a middleman,” Stefano adds.
Bones rolls his shoulders once.
“Does he know we know?”
“Not yet,” I answer. “Clinton believes he’s winning.”
Maverick walks slowly toward the window, hands clasped behind his back.
New York stretches out beneath him.
“Then we let them continue believing that,” he says.
Spike’s eyes narrow. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes.”
“We accept the demonstration,” I say.
“We attend,” Maverick confirms. “We encourage him. We ask for scale. Distribution. Timelines.”
“And then?” Skip asks.
“While Clinton gives us his demonstration,” Maverick says evenly, “we’ll have a secondary team in place. Martello will be taken the moment Clinton believes he has secured our interest.”
Stefano nods once. “Quietly. No spectacle. He disappears before he realizes he has been seen.”
“And he comes back here,” Maverick finishes. “I have questions.”
Spike leans forward slightly. “We’ll need more than questions. We need his confession. His contacts. Every client he’s poached. Every supplier he’s leaned on.”
“And who else he’s feeding bad product to,” Foster adds. “If he’s willing to destabilize us, he’s willing to destabilize others.”
Bones’ mouth curves faintly. “He’ll talk.”
“Looks like we’re staying a few days,” Skip says, stretching his arms overhead. “Can I sleep in the master suite? I feel like I deserve skyline views.”
“I’m calling Patch,” I mutter, already pulling my phone out.
He answers on the second ring.
“Hey, brother. How’s New York?”
