Page 25 of Broken Wolf Heart (Mafia Pack #3)

LEXI

B reathing hurts.

Every inhale is a reminder of the marble column Vincenzo threw me against like I weighed nothing. I’m bruised, battered, probably cracked somewhere inside—and I haven’t slept. Not really.

Not since I looked Vincenzo Diavolo in the eye and declared war.

The morning after the attack, I lean against the kitchen island, munching on toast. A security guard passes through on his rounds, and I can feel her eyes on me. It’s not unfriendly, but the sorrow in her gaze guts me. We lost seven guards yesterday, thanks to Rocco and Alvaro.

Seven Giovanni pack members who did nothing except try to protect me.

I owe them everything. A debt I can’t possibly repay.

Andy sits at the breakfast bar across from me, sipping her coffee. She hasn’t said much this morning, but it’s a comfortable silence. I’m beginning to feel myself wanting to trust her. I can only hope that trust won’t prove misplaced— like it did with Ramsey.

The thought of him sends a wave of anxiety through me.

Grey didn’t leave my side after his father left, and after he’d patched up all the cuts left behind by the fight, he filled me in on seeing Ramsey on the video feed at the lab.

Then he told me about the creepy phone call Ramsey made to Grey the day of the pack vote.

Ramsey’s up to something, and I doubt it’s going to be good for any of us when he reveals what it is.

I’ve stopped worrying that he’s going to out me to Vincenzo for spying. Even if he did, Vincenzo’s determination to come for us is already absolute. And Ramsey doesn’t do anything that won’t serve himself first.

I asked Grey what he thought about all of the lab findings.

Not just Ramsey but Crow’s mom’s files. The experiments.

Maybe shutting it down wasn’t enough. Maybe we should have burned the fucking place to the ground.

But Grey assured me we’d stopped them from hurting anyone else.

Now, all we can do is move forward. Starting with apprehending Vincenzo so we can stop the bloodshed before it starts.

Every day he remains free is another threat to the people I love.

This might all be so much easier if I could make peace with my wolf. Not shifting yesterday could have killed me. But deep down, I’m still constantly fighting her for control. I haven’t admitted it to Grey since that moment in the driveway, and he hasn’t asked.

I’m just downing my last bite when Dutch comes in, phone in hand, eyes stormy.

“They’ve got him.”

My pulse skips. “Alvaro?”

Grey told me what Crow asked for. The order he gave to let them loose on the general, who consented to allow Severin to experiment on Crow’s mother.

And how she eventually took her own life.

My heart aches for Crow—and for Razor. Having a father like that is just as bad as not having one at all.

But now that Crow and Razor have unleashed their rage on the man, I’m not sure he’ll live much longer anyway.

Dutch nods at my question. “Razor said they have him at the warehouse. Told us to come soon if we want to try to get our own questions answered.”

I straighten. My ribs hate me for it. “So, he’s alive.?”

Dutch’s smile is grim. “For now.”

I nod, grabbing the hoodie I left slung over the back of a chair.

Grey walks in just as I’m pulling it over my head. There’s something different about him today. He hasn’t touched me since he rolled out of bed alone this morning when he thought I was still sleeping. Hasn’t looked at anyone too long.

Something’s off with him. Worse than the expected Daddy issues, which no one would even blame him for anyway. But there’s no time to unravel him now.

Mia would probably know, but she’s gone to look for a way to check on Charlie.

He wasn’t with the other generals yesterday, and I can tell she’s not sure whether to deem that a good thing or a cause for worry.

I can’t quite give him the benefit of the doubt, but I understand needing to know he’s safe.

“I’m going with you,” I tell Grey defiantly, bracing myself for a fight, but he just nods.

“Okay.”

“I’ll hold down the fort,” Andy says.

“Actually,” I hesitate, hating that it’s come to this. “I need you to call a meeting with the lieutenants we decided to keep.”

“What do you want me to tell them?” she asks.

“They can each handpick a team and start running patrols of the city. Vincenzo Diavolo should be arrested on sight.”

Andy nods. “Understood.”

“And for the funeral arrangements for the guards,” I say haltingly, but Andy waves me off .

“I’m taking care of it. Along with Franco’s and the generals,” she adds a bit quieter.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” I say, but she snorts.

“Believe me, Elena wouldn’t allow that for a second.”

I exhale. “Thank you.”

“Go take care of business,” she says.

I follow Grey and Dutch out as fast as my injured ribs will allow, my stomach full of both determination and dread.

The drive to the warehouse is quiet; the only sound is the swish of the windshield wipers as they clear away the drizzle that’s falling.

We take a navy blue Rolls-Royce Dutch found in Franco’s garage.

Any other day, I’d be enjoying my first time in a car like this one, but today I’m distracted by what waits for us at the warehouse.

Dutch drives, leaving Grey and me in the backseat.

He holds my hand, but his face is turned toward the window, and he looks pensive.

I want to ask him what’s wrong, but even without wolf hearing, there’s zero chance for privacy.

So, I settle for squeezing his hand and sending as much comfort through our mate bond as I can muster around my own anxiety.

Just before we park, he leans in, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and pressing his lips to mine in a chaste kiss that feels like a promise of love and violence all rolled into one. I try not to overthink the fact that it comforts me more than any words could.

Crow meets us at the warehouse door, his face and knuckles streaked with dirt and blood. His hair is disheveled, and his gaze is wilder than I’ve ever seen it. Somehow raw and closed off at the same time.

He doesn’t speak. Just nods and leads the way.

Inside, the space is dim, barely lit by the overheads.

In the large open bay, we pass a table stacked with files from the lab records they printed and went through yesterday.

Dust swirls in the shafts of light as we make our way through the halls toward the back room where I already know they keep their prisoners.

Sure enough, it’s the same room I visited the night I first arrived in Indigo Hills. The room where Grey questioned and then killed Trucker—a vile man who betrayed his pack and preyed on young women.

I can’t help noting how I view Alvaro as no better than Trucker—and no less deserving of that same fate. How far I’ve come from that shocked and traumatized girl from just a few weeks ago.

When we finally reach the small room, Razor’s standing beside a folding chair placed in the center of the space, sleeves rolled up, blood on his knuckles. Crow slips by and moves to stand on the other side of the chair.

Alvaro is tied to the chair, his white shirt stained brown and red, his face and arms bruised and bleeding. Even so, there’s something smug about his expression that makes my stomach twist. Like he still thinks he’s in control.

“Looks like you’ve already started,” Grey says, toneless. “Learn anything interesting?”

Crow’s voice is low, wrecked. “He didn’t deny any of it.” He finally glances back at us. His eyes are hollow. “If anything, the bastard seemed proud that he served my mom up like a fucking lab rat for Franco’s whims.”

Silence.

My throat tightens. “Was she…? Are you…?” I can’t seem to get the words out, but we all know what I mean.

If Crow has the LAG gene, his wolf could become just as unpredictable as mine.

Crow turns fully now, expression unreadable. “He said the experiments happened after I was born. So, I wouldn’t have inherited whatever the hell gene they were testing. It was just about her. And her wolf.”

“Against her fucking will,” Razor says the words like he’s delivering a verdict.

Alvaro merely snorts.

“He says it caused changes in her wolf. Lack of control. A darkness that—” Crow swallows hard. “That’s probably what drove her to do what she did.”

Horror blooms inside me like an inkblot across my chest. How can a person do something like that and laugh about it all these years later?

I don’t realize I’ve asked the question out loud until Alvaro lets out a ragged laugh, wet with blood. “She knew what she was signing up for when she married into this life.”

“That’s the thing. She wasn’t married,” Crow snarls. “You used her like she was nothing. And then you locked her away so you wouldn’t have to acknowledge what you’d done.”

“Not that your wife had it any better,” Razor puts in darkly.

“Gloria knows her place,” Alvaro mutters, but some of the cruel humor has gone out of his expression.

I don’t know the details of Gloria’s relationship with Alvaro, but judging from the look Razor wears, it’s not good.

“Yes, and you always knew your place, didn’t you?” Crow asks, the words more like a taunt.

“Generals make hard choices for the good of the pack.” Alvaro sneers. “Not that you’d know anything about being one.”

Crow’s fist cracks across Alvaro’s jaw. The general’s head snaps to the side. Blood sprays from his mouth, but he merely laughs then juts his chin at me.

“You gonna let the bitch watch?” he sneers through blood-stained teeth. “Show her how to take a beating like a fucking wolf? Or was yesterday lesson enough?” When I don’t answer, he says, “You look worse than I do, alpha .”

My title drips with sarcasm.

Crow’s fist answers that. Then Razor’s.

For the first time since meeting them all, I see an uncanny resemblance between the three of them. It exists mostly in the expressions twisted with rage that each of them wears.