Page 1 of Broken Wolf Heart (Mafia Pack #3)

LEXI

T oday is supposed to be a beginning. The moment the nightmares of my past give way to something real. A future. A husband. A life I choose for myself. Instead, it’s an ending—for the last living family member I had and undoubtedly for me too.

“He’s dead.”

Santiago’s words hang in the air like a poison cloud.

The suit-clad male with a paunchy gut stands halfway up the aisle of the crowded church, which is as far as he got after returning from my upstairs dressing room.

As one of Franco’s mafia generals, he hadn’t been willing to accept Dutch’s claims about his high alpha’s sudden demise. Not without seeing for himself.

Now, he looks stunned.

At his pronouncement, the wedding guests— my wedding, which might as well be a wake now—look at me with shock and awe. And more than a little skepticism. I can’t blame them for the latter. Mostly because Dutch just claimed I killed the mafia pack’s high alpha… which is a total lie.

The question is: Why ?

One look at my fiancé—husband? Did we make it that far?—and my stomach sours.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Trust me,” he whispers back.

Something flashes in his eye. Desperation. And something darker.

I blink and pull back as the realization washes over me. Grey killed him, but he’s giving me the credit.

I don’t know how he did it. Franco was supposed to be the most powerful wolf in this city. But somehow, my grandfather, Franco Giovanni—the man who ruled Indigo Hills with an iron fist, the man who had no qualms about being my enemy, yet failed to denounce me as his heir, is dead.

I also don’t know why Grey isn’t just declaring himself the new alpha. But I won’t betray him. So, I keep my mouth shut and do my best to make my expression devoid of the truth. It’s not hard, considering all my other half-panicked thoughts vying for attention.

Santiago looks from me to his brother, Conrad, who sits in the second row.

They’re both generals in Franco’s pack hierarchy, which probably makes them in charge now that the old man is gone.

Then, they both look at Toros, the third general.

The worst of them, from what I’ve heard.

His scars stretch across his face, pulled taut with the tension of the moment.

After a shared look, they all nod like they’ve just made some unspoken agreement.

Fear squeezes my chest at that nod. Is it a “yes” to killing me? To shifting into their wolf forms and decimating this entire church full of people? A yes to retribution for what Grey took from them? For what they think I’ve done?

I can’t breathe around my racing thoughts as I try to decipher my next move. Or how I’ll possibly survive the next few moments with murderous wolf shifters hovering over me and my own inner wolf intent on clawing her way out to join them .

The serum Vincenzo gave me to access my wolf has finally started to kick in. I don’t know what’s considered normal for a new wolf, but I’ve never felt quite this unhinged before.

The guests become restless.

Murmurs echo off the walls. They start low but get louder fast. Shoes scrape against the floor as people shove to their feet.

Threats and curses are tossed my way, the most vicious of them from Franco’s lieutenants sitting in the second row.

The loudest voice, though, belongs to Vincenzo Diavolo.

Grey’s father. If there were an award for Most Likely to Kill Me Where I Stand, it would go to this man, no contest.

While Santiago, Toros, and Conrad seem to debate who gets to murder me, Vincenzo shoves to his feet, yelling, “What the fuck have you done?”

But he’s not looking at me.

He’s shooting venomous glares at his son. Like he knows the truth. Or has at least guessed it.

“Lexi,” Grey warns, pulling me back just as a couple of Franco’s pack members surge toward the dais. Toward me.

I tense, bracing myself for their vengeance.

Before they can reach me, a couple of bodies slide in front of me and Grey.

Razor and Dutch. They shove the two men back and face the crowd with their arms crossed—a veritable wall between us and them.

It won’t last long, though. Not with the looks Franco’s generals are giving me.

Inside, my stomach rolls with nausea. Anxiety slams through me. The need to run wars with the urge to fight. I shove both of them away and try to breathe.

“Hey,” Grey says, but I can’t look at him. I can’t do anything except suck in oxygen and try not to lose my shit.

My next inhale is an assault on my senses. Suddenly, I can smell every single person in this room. None of them smells like friends, not to her .

“Whatever happens next, know that I love you. ”

Grey’s words break through my inner battle.

I blink, finally forcing myself to look at him, to focus on the intensity in his dark grey eyes. The way they are fastened so completely on me. As if this room isn’t full of people who want to kill us both.

Whatever he sees in my expression startles him.

“Is it your wolf?” he whispers.

“Yes,” I manage, gritting my teeth against the pain of what feels like my insides being ripped apart.

I watch as his expression goes from resolute to worried and back again.

He reaches down and runs his thumb over the twist-tie wrapped around my finger. I look down at it, my heart squeezing.

“Focus on this,” he says.

I nod, doing my best.

But when I look up at him again, I can feel the pain winning. My focus slips. My breaths become ragged.

“Shit,” Grey mutters, and I know he can see how close I am to losing it.

He grabs my elbow, pulling me close. His mouth crashes down on mine, fierce and possessive.

And despite my wolf howling to get out, I relax.

Somehow, I know everything he’s doing now is to save me, even if it gets him killed in the process.

The idea of losing him sends me panicking again, and I try to pull away.

But he only kisses me harder, his lips bruising against mine.

His thumb rubbing that damned twist-tie like it’s a wishing stone.

A promise, flimsy and fragile—and somehow stronger than anything holding either one of us together right now.

I kiss him like he’s my last grip on sanity before I lose myself forever. Before I lose him forever.

Vaguely, I hear Razor threatening someone to step back or he’ll remove their legs from their body .

My hip is bumped, and I’m jostled.

Grey’s grip tightens around my waist. Despite the chaos, he kisses me with singular focus, as if pressing his mouth to mine will somehow stop everything that’s coming.

But it won’t.

Because before his lips even leave mine, hands are already snatching me away. Razor curses viciously. Someone grunts. Rough fingers clamp down on my arms, wrenching me backward.

Grey is ripped away from me.

Strong hands keep me upright while binding my arms helplessly behind me. I struggle like a wild animal, panic blotting out all reason. My nails rake across flesh, and blood pools where I’ve scratched my captor’s skin.

The sight of the blood and the coppery scent of it leaves a thirst in my throat. My wolf wants more of it. She wants to drink it while standing over their dead body. To bathe in it underneath the light of a full moon and?—

Ugh.

I shake my head to clear it.

My wolf is clearly a psycho.

Her murderous daydream is like a bucket of cold water to my senses. I stop struggling long enough to identify my assailant.

Santiago.

Beside him, Toros looms in front of Razor, whose skin has already sprouted fur in a partial shift. Razor’s eyes are wild and unfocused, but it’s Dutch holding him back, talking him down with quiet words. On the other side of the dais, Conrad holds Grey in place by his arms, though barely.

A snarl erupts from Grey’s chest, savage and raw as he glares across the space at Santiago. “Take your fucking hands off my wife.”

The remaining guests go still at the steel in his voice .

But Santiago doesn’t listen.

With a malicious grin, he hauls me off my feet and begins carrying me away, his grip unyielding. My wolf strains inside me, desperate to free herself. To fight them. To kill.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Dutch demands, the words laced with a growl. He and Razor surge toward the steps—toward me.

My panic escalates at the inevitable brawl coming. I make a sound that’s more animal than human, and it’s enough to make Santiago stop in his tracks.

Dutch eyes me with suspicion, but it’s Grey who speaks.

“Put her down, or I swear I will kill you and everyone you’ve ever loved,” Grey snarls.

“This is Giovanni pack business,” Toros tells him. “You have no authority here.”

Grey stops struggling then. He blinks as if letting those words really sink in. “You’re taking her to Franco’s.” It’s more of a question than a statement.

“We’re taking her home,” Toros snarls. “Where she belongs.”

Grey looks at Dutch and Razor and gives a swift nod. They back off.

My stomach twists as I realize they’re going to stand down.

Santiago carries me down the steps.

The crowd, mostly Franco’s people on this side, parts for us.

“Wait.” Grey surges forward. He yanks out of Conrad’s grip hard enough to send the man staggering. “I’m coming with you.”

“That’s not your call to make,” Toros shoots back.

Grey’s eyes narrow. “I’m her fucking husband.”

The air between them thickens, the tension slicing through the ruined sanctity of the church like a blade .

“Husband or not, you know the price,” Toros tells him. “Denounce your father. Publicly. Swear allegiance to us.”

“Like hell,” Vincenzo snarls. He’s watching this unfold like he can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a nightmare. But at the mention of Grey defecting, he looks like he’s settled on the latter.

Grey’s breathing is ragged, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wants to do as they demand. I can see it in the way his entire body strains toward me. In the way his chest rises and falls like he’s seconds from shifting and ripping them all apart.

Mia appears at Grey’s side. She gives him a look that conveys something I don’t understand.

Grey’s eyes flick to mine, stormy with anguish, apology, fury.

His jaw clenches. The growl that rips from him is pure rage, his wolf so close to the surface that his pupils blacken, his body trembling with the force of his instincts.

And then—he goes still.

Toros watches him, waiting.

Grey doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t have to.

The decision is made.

Toros nods. “Didn’t think so.”

Then they carry me out.

And Grey lets them.