A shame to waste fine whisky on that British bastard.

After pouring a chilled glass of Stolichnaya Elit, Vestavia passed it to Ostrovsky, who sat at the head of the table. Handing the whisky to Bardaric, Vestavia sat down where he could face both men.

“We must move ahead with our plans.” Bardaric wasted no time in opening the discussion. “The U.S. has not been weakened sufficiently to allow for further damage to the UK or China.”

Vestavia had enjoyed unquestioned control over all Fratelli missions on United States soil until someone undermined him this past year by ruining his plan to seat a Fratelli in the White House.

The fucking mole.

And now this UK wharf rat wanted to rip the United States apart before the UK tumbled. Vestavia kept his tone pleasant but firm. “Now is not the time to draw undue attention to our movement. I’m not willing to support a plan that serves no purpose but to ravage this country before we’re ready for it to fall.”

“We tried it your way, Vestavia, and you failed last year.” Bardaric smoothed his fingertips over the table as though clearing space for a battle. “Your plans are lagging behind. My people can help escalate your time frame to put us all back on track.”

“I don’t need any help.” Vestavia gave Bardaric an acidic smile. “As for failing last year, that was a setback we’re already recovering from, but the UK lost momentum four years ago that hasn’t been recovered. Or have you forgotten your failure to gain the list of CIA names I set up the buy on and the failed mission to kill your prime minister?”

Bardaric’s eyes bulged red. “We have a new prime minister in place in spite of Wentworth keeping our last one alive. Someone in your country interfered in the Brugmann deal four years ago. Want to tell me who?”

“Are you accusing me of interfering?” Vestavia asked softly.

Ostrovsky took a drink of his vodka and slammed the glass down. “Gentlemen! I did not come for schoolyard arguments. I may be only Angeli mediator for this meeting, but that does not preclude sharing my opinion. Of all the continents, yours are the two strongest. You must come to agreement on which one falls first and work together. This is crucial for all seven continents.”

Vestavia caught himself leaning toward Bardaric, his muscles tight with the need to fight. He’d buried his pain over the failed mission so deep no one knew how much losing Josephine had cost him. How hard it had been to order her death when she’d been captured. To watch her beautiful head explode.

He had a mole, yes, but this UK prick was causing him just as much trouble. Smoothing his face to appear unconcerned, Vestavia willed his body to relax. He straightened away from the table.

Ostrovsky was correct. They were Angeli first and foremost.

The seven Angeli-one from each continent-called themselves the Council of Seven as a security measure so no one slipped around the Fratelli de il Sovrano.

The Fratelli thought they were the highest order on each continent in charge of preparing the world for the Renaissance, but the Council would eventually wield the true power. Like Vestavia, each of the other six had infiltrated the Fratelli groups on their respective continents. The Council would surface in due time, but for now they were letting the Fratelli do the heavy lifting.

The Fratelli wouldn’t fold easily when the time came to hand over control of the world, but the Council of Seven Angeli held one powerful key to the future.

Until the day to reveal that key arrived, Vestavia refused to see North America pummeled just to make this UK fuck feel better about his position.

Vestavia and his six counterparts on the council were secretly accelerating the Fratelli’s plans so that the Renaissance would happen in their lifetime, not another sixty years from now as currently expected.

“The U.S. must fall first to complete the parity phase,” Bardaric argued, not addressing the part about working together.

Of course that horse’s ass would say the U.S. had to fall first. Vestavia didn’t react. He had the backing of the Wentworths, who carried the purest blood of the North American and European Fratelli. Their power trumped Bardaric’s royal bloodline in Britain, so he allowed, “You have a valid point.”

Bardaric’s eyes thinned in suspicion. “Then you agree the Wentworth family is growing too quickly.”

“Perhaps.” Vestavia had to give up something so that Ostrovsky would report his compliance to the other Angeli. “However, I would point out that there is only one fertile Wentworth being put into service at this time.”

Bardaric seethed quietly. “There must be no new Wentworth babies until the UK has three more births with the genetic markers. We all agreed to limit births-”

“No,” Vestavia said, cutting in. “We agreed to maintain a balance of pure DNA breeding. These babies are our future leaders and our genetic stock. With only four descendants of the original seven women who birthed our civilization-and Wentworth holding the purest blood, I might add-we can’t afford to limit a breeder who is on schedule because yours is behind.”

“I am well aware of our limited DNA resources. I will call for a vote to allow multiple births from the three women in Europe’s bloodline when I return home tomorrow so that all three can be inseminated immediately.”

“I’m not comfortable with multiple births at one time in the UK.” Vestavia looked over at Ostrovsky, who made a noncommittal shoulder movement. “I don’t think any of us want to see a replay of your grandfather’s mistake, Bardaric.”

“Hitler was not my grandfather’s mistake.” Bardaric hit the table with his fist. “Hitler climbed his way into the Fratelli just as you did. My family cannot be held accountable for his insanity, only for the actions of those within our direct bloodline.”

“I’m not saying your family is specifically at fault for anything, only that Hitler was allowed to breed genetic offspring like rats during your grandfather’s era. The Angeli two generations back failed to contain Hitler. Our job is to ensure no Fratelli abuses the power to create life.” Vestavia slid another look at Ostrovsky, who weighed in with a nod, so he continued. “Our generation has technological advantages over prior ones, but allowing any generation to breed at too fast a rate is just as irresponsible as our forefathers who experimented with plagues they couldn’t control.”

Bardaric’s anger fingered through the pristine air that smelled so clean it seemed manufactured. “I have maintained an equivalent pace, but the last three babies did not survive.”

“Can’t help it if our sperm is more powerful.” Vestavia spoke without emotion, as though just stating facts, but hit his mark with the verbal strike.

Bardaric’s shoulders flexed, tense with hostility.

Ostrovsky shot a warning glare at both sides of the table.

Vestavia lifted his hands to stem the argument brewing. He needed Ostrovsky, the one Angeli council member most trusted for over a decade to play mediator, to report to the other four that Vestavia continued to be capable of ruling over North America. “I thought we were going to hear about your new plan, Bardaric. If your plan is sound and if the majority of the council votes yes, I’ll put all my resources behind it.”

That lit a glow in the Brit’s eyes. “At the heart, this is a conservative plan that will serve us all well.”

That was the first sign of danger from Bardaric. He liked to sell the Angeli on his conservative actions to cover lies and covert plans.

“I’m listening.” Vestavia fingered the lip of his glass.

“This would affect only three major cities in the U.S.,” Bardaric said, as though wiping out three U.S. cities would be minor damage. “We’ve been experimenting with a new material, something so small it can be easily transported, yet once it is constructed as a bomb and linked with more than one, the results are cataclysmic.”