Page 20 of The Bratva Betrayal

“They’d be moving differently if they were.” I let my voice settle into something more confident. “More overlap. Less separation between operations. What I’ve seen is internal and tight.”

He hums quietly, fingers tapping against the table. “That doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“No,” I agree. “It doesn’t.”

“But they aren’t.”

“Not right now.”

Silence stretches between us for a second before he shifts, his attention sharpening again.

“What about shipments?” he asks.

My fingers curl against the edge of the table before I force them to relax. “Nothing unusual.” I keep my tone light and dismissive. “Same routes. Same patterns.”

It’s not a full lie.

He doesn’t need to know everything because it has nothing to do with the Italians.

His eyes narrow as he realizes I’m holding something back.

“You’re being vague,” he accuses.

“I’m being careful.”

“With me?” Coldness slips into his tone. “Or for them?”

“For us,” I meet his eyes without hesitation. “If you want to avoid a war, giving you half-formed information about shipments isn’t the way to do it.”

That doesn’t sit well. It never does when I push back.

“You don’t decide how I use the information you bring me,” he grinds out. “I thought we were clear about that.”

“I understand, Da.”

The silence that follows is thick with something unspoken and familiar.

Disappointment.

Frustration.

Expectations that I’m not meeting fast enough.

“You’re getting too comfortable over there,” he says after a moment. “Too close to something that isn’t yours.”

“I’m doing what you asked me to do.”

“I asked you to be useful.”

I’ve heard those words before, and I’m still trying to prove they don’t apply to me.

“I am being useful,” I say.

“By what?” he presses. “Sleeping with the boy?”

Heat flares through me, sharp and immediate. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

If my father thinks I’m just sleeping around with Misha and not bringing him back what he wants, he’ll pull me out.