“I’ll handle it,” Skip says immediately, already pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Only the leaders,” Spike adds. “No trickle-down. No chatter. You tell them it’s controlled. Temporary. And it stays between us until we find out what the hell is going on.”
Skip nods once. “Direct lines only. No texts. No middlemen.”
“And if they don’t like that?” Crusher mutters from the far end of the table.
Spike’s jaw tightens.
“They don’t have a fucking choice,” he says evenly. “Or they can stop doing business with us.”
No one argues that.
Skip gives a short nod. “I’ll make it clear.”
I glance around the table.
“And we need to be ready,” I continue. “If this blows up faster than we expect, we lock the gates. No visitors. No drop-ins. Nobody steps foot on this compound without being cleared.”
“Prospects double guard rotation,” Bones says immediately.
“Snipers constantly posted,” Foster adds.
“No outside meetings,” Spike says. “All negotiations paused.”
Maverick watches us quietly.
“You expect retaliation that quickly?” he asks.
“I expect paranoia,” I answer. “And paranoid men make stupid decisions.”
Stefano nods slowly. “In New York, I will do the same. Limited access. Trusted men only.”
“Good,” Spike says. “Because if this goes sideways, I don’t want anyone thinking they can test us while we’re distracted.”
The air in the room shifts.
Not panic...preparation.
“Get your calls made,” Spike tells Skip. “Foster, start laying groundwork for the leak. Maverick, coordinate your little Broadway performance.”
A faint smirk touches Maverick’s mouth.
“And us?” Max asks.
Spike stands.
“We get ready,” he says simply.
Because outside these walls, rumors are about to start moving.
And when they do, we won’t be caught off guard.
We’ll be waiting.
Chapter Thirteen
Abby
