Page 17 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

Russ shakes his head, frustration evident in his posture. "You're both overthinking this. Sometimes a coincidence is just a fucking coincidence. She's a woman who wanted to have some fun. She picked three guys who happened to know each other. That's it."

"You've been doing this long enough to know that when something seems too convenient, it usually is," I say quietly.

"So what are you suggesting?" Russ demands. "That we interrogate her? Threaten her? Kill her if we decide she's a threat?"

The room goes silent.

That's the real question, isn't it?

What do we do if we determine she's actually working for someone?

The answer should be simple.

We eliminate threats.

That's how we've survived this long, how our families have maintained power.

But something about the idea of hurting that red-haired woman with the blue eyes and nervous smile makes my stomach tighten in a way I don't like.

"We watch her," I say finally. "We have our people look into her background, find out who she is, where she came from, and who she's connected to. We monitor her movements, see if she makes contact with anyone suspicious. But we don't interfere directly unless she becomes an actual problem."

Alex nods slowly. "Agreed."

Russ doesn't look happy, but he doesn't argue. "Fine."

The tension in the room eases slightly, though it doesn't disappear entirely. We've reached a consensus, at least for now.

"Now," Alex says, his tone shifting to pure business, "we need to talk about the merger itself. Specifically, about who knows what."

I lean back in my chair, grateful for the change in subject, even though this topic is almost as problematic. "The captains who are in the know are getting restless. They want details about how the consolidation is going to work, how territories will be redistributed, and who's going to answer to whom."

"We can't give them details yet," Russ says. "Not until we've finalized the structure. If we start making promises now and have to change them later, we'll lose credibility."

"But if we don't give them something soon, they're going to start making their own assumptions," Alex counters. "And those assumptions might be worse than the reality."

It's a delicate balance.

We need to keep our people informed enough that they don't feel like they're being kept in the dark, but not so informed that sensitive information starts leaking to rival families.

The problem is that too many people already know pieces of the plan.

Not the full picture, but enough fragments that someone clever could start putting things together.

"How many people know about the merger negotiations?" I ask.

Alex's expression darkens. "Too many. Each of us has had to bring in key captains, advisors, and people we trust to help work out the logistics. I'd estimate at least twenty people across our three families know that consolidation talks are happening."

"Twenty people is nineteen too many," I mutter. "Every person who knows is a potential leak."

"We couldn't do this alone," Russ points out. "We needed input from people who understand the day-to-day operations, who know which territories can be merged and which ones will cause problems."

He's right, but that doesn't make me feel any better about it. Information is power, and the more people who have information, the more vulnerable we become.

"We need to tighten security," I say. "No more bringing in new people. The ones who already know, we make it clear that any leaks will be dealt with severely. And we accelerate the timeline. The longer these negotiations drag on, the more chance there is for something to go wrong."

"Agreed," Alex says. "We should aim to have the basic structure finalized soon. Once we have that, we can start bringing in more captains with specific details about their roles."

I'm about to respond when something occurs to me that makes my jaw tighten. "Arina's going to find out eventually. She always does."