Page 65 of Double Standards

That’s a problem. Because until Ryder officially inherits, The Five can’t move forward. We need that West Coast expansion to survive and grow, and Genovese’s ironclad ties to the Irish Mob are the key to that.

“What’s going on with him, anyway?” I press, recalling ourearlier conversation. I want to understand the full scope of the standoff.

Ryder hesitates, the weight of the answer pressing down on him. “He wants to settle with the Irish.”

My gut twists, blood burning behind my eyes.He can’t be serious.

“Is he aware of what that means?” I ask, voice low but sharp. Iknowwhat it means. If the Irish get even a whiff of our operations, they’ll come knocking, expecting a share. We’ve worked too hard to build our own empires, and while we respect each other’s boundaries, I’m not about to let some outsiders muscle in on our territory.

“Yes,” Ryder hisses, but there’s a pause, a hesitation that tells me he’s holding something back.

I know there’s more. I see it in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. He’s wrestling with loyalty and fear—loyalty to a father who’s made clear he won’t step down, and fear of the consequences if the family fractures.

I push, needing the truth because this isn’t just business anymore—it’s family. “What’s his proposal? Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Arranged marriage,” Ryder murmurs, almost under his breath.

I freeze. An arranged marriage. Classic old-school mafia politics—blood ties forged with chains, alliances sealed with rings. I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Ryder. It’s a brutal, outdated way to keep control, but it’s still effective.

“Sorry, kid,” I say quietly. “There’s no easy way out of that without starting a war between families.”

“Thanks,” he breathes.

The silence between us feels heavy, loaded. There’s nothing else to say—for now. If Genovese Sr. is about to drag us all into some tangled alliance with the Irish, we better be ready for the fallout.

Trigger’s probably the only one who truly knows what’s going on between Ryder and his father. He’s just too respectful—or maybe just wise enough—not to bring it up. It’s one thing I genuinely respect about Trigger: he understands it isn’t his place to shout about Ryder’s old-school family drama. And honestly? It’s not mine to pry into either, at least not until the line is clearly drawn, and the dust settles.

“It’s not an issue we need to worry about right now. The old man’s plans, as outdated as they might be, fit well enough with ours. Let’s leave it at that,” Ryder assures, and I respect the hell out of him for keeping calm. Though I know deep down he’s about ready to put a bullet in someone, I appreciate him not pulling the trigger. At least not yet.

“Sure,” I reply. No more questions asked. I shift my focus back to the pressing problem. “Back to the issue of the stolen goods.” I lean back in my chair and steeple my fingers in front of me. The weight of the missing shipments presses down heavily, and there’s no room for distractions.

“Max can trace the logs,” Trigger offers, eyes briefly flicking to Hunter for confirmation. Hunter nods, acknowledging the plan. “I’m confident he’ll find something we missed.”

They both know the possibility is there. It’s easy to overlook details in the chaos of our operations, but we can’t afford any mistakes—not now. Max’s skill at picking needles out of haystacks is legendary; if there’s a mole, he’ll find them. Probably faster than anyone else.

“Keep me posted,” I say, voice steady. “Let me know what you find.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

The images of last night’s interaction with Cooper won’t leave my mind. I’ve never seen the guy so riled up or completely out of control. I’m still shaken up by how he acted. I didn’t get a chance to tell Lexie, but I’m almost certain that if I did, she’d be knocking on his door in a flash, tearing him apart with nothing but her words.

Axel’s been blowing up my phone all day, checking in to make sure I’m okay. That means Ryder must have filled him in on what happened. I’m about to reject Axel’s seventh call when Jada strolls into the office, Lexie right behind her.

“Hey, bitch,” Lexie smirks, dropping herself into the chair across from my desk like she owns the place. “Heard Cooper’s been bothering you.”

My eyes go wide with shock as a million questions flood my mind. First off: “Where did you hear that?”

“He fucking texted me, the idiot,” she replies with a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Said I needed to talk some sense into you before you got yourself killed.”

I seethe. “That gaslighting fucking prick.”

“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’ for emphasis and swings her legsover the chair, nearly lying back. I know she’ll always have my back—this is no different—but I can see she’s starting to realize just how bad Cooper’s antics have gotten.

She turns to me, serious now. “So, when are you dumping his ass?”

I let out a small laugh, grateful for the moment of levity. “Well, if he doesn’t beat me to it first, I guess I’ll go over tonight.”

Lexie grins. “Want me to come with you?”