Page 29 of Broken Wolf Heart (Mafia Pack #3)

LEXI

B ehind me, voices sound as the meeting abruptly breaks up. Even though I’m striding through the house, I still feel trapped in that room, still staring at the screen where Vincenzo took everything I am and turned it into something dirty.

Something broken.

Something I might never be able to fix.

I don’t remember deciding to leave the house. Or slipping the guards and losing myself in the woods. I just know I’m moving. Fast. Like, if I stop, I’ll shatter into a thousand pieces I can’t put back together.

Vincenzo twisted my greatest fear into a blade and used it to carve me right out of the place I’d made for myself in this world. And the worst part? I believed him. For one long, gutting moment, I believed that I didn’t belong here.

But not anymore.

It’s time to fight for my place in Indigo Hills. Not just taking what’s offered but really stepping up and using my voice to claim this place as my home.

Home .

The word doesn’t sound quite as foreign as it used to.

Instead, it sounds like I suddenly have a lot to lose if Vincenzo has his way.

But I survived too many nights alone to give up now.

Foster homes. Empty apartments. Self-reliance is written into my bones.

I’ve always been the only one who saved me.

The only difference now is that I’m saving more than just myself. I’m saving my pack. I promised them I wouldn’t abandon them, and I intend to keep that promise.

I run faster.

At some point, I become aware that I’m not human.

The realization that I’ve shifted into my wolf stops me short.

Sensations slam into me then. Four legs.

Powerful strides. A snout that can scent anything that moves in my vicinity.

Instead of feeling possessed by something “other” like before, I feel as if I’ve just come back into my body after a long time away from it. A ghost returned to corporeal form.

It’s somehow both disturbing and grounding all at once.

My wolf whines at me.

She thinks I’m being dramatic.

I snort at her, and then, I let her run.

She takes off like a whip, trees blurring past. Scents filling our nose. Sound muted, thanks to the wind in my ears.

Moving this way is freeing. Giving over to my wolf, letting her take charge—for the first time since I felt her presence inside me, I welcome her. And some of the overwhelm recedes.

Finally, I near the city and recognize the need to be human again. My wolf argues that point. I think she’d happily walk right into the heart of downtown in her four-legged form without a qualm. But I know better than to draw that kind of attention to myself—especially considering the news report.

After struggling for what feels like an interminable amount of time, I shove my wolf down and shift back to two legs. Then I spend another hour creeping naked through hedges until I manage to find a towel hanging over someone’s fence and wrap it around myself.

How do shifters manage to stay clothed, anyway?

On the outskirts of downtown, I find a faded, aged thrift store in a small strip shopping center. Forcing my chin up, I walk inside, holding the towel tightly around my body.

The cashier does a double-take.

The two shoppers inside stop and stare at me. One of them drops the macrame dream catcher she’s holding. Her jaw falls open. I step toward the cashier and whisper, “Do you have anything in the back that you’re tossing out? Something I might borrow?”

“You’re…you’re Lexi—I mean High Alpha.”

I wince. “Just Lexi is fine.”

She nods emphatically.

“Um, the clothes,” I begin.

Her eyes widen. “Right. Yes. Come with me.”

She rounds the counter and leads me toward the back, walking on my right to shield me from the shoppers’ nosy view.

I keep my head down, letting my long hair fall across my face like a curtain.

But not before I see one of the shoppers raise her phone and take a picture of me. Or video. Ugh. So much for anonymity.

I whisper a silent plea that these women are Giovanni pack and not Diavolo.

In the back, the cashier winds past piles of boxes and bins full of people’s donations. She stops at a hanging rack and thumbs through the clothing there.

“Here,” she says, holding out a dress that someone’s grandmother probably wore. It’s not in bad shape though, and I can’t imagine they’re going to throw it out. “This looks like your size.”

“It’s pretty nice. Are you sure you can’t sell it? Don’t you have a trash pile I could?— ”

“Absolutely not.” She softens. “No one deserves to wear trash, honey. Least of all you.” She leans in and says, “My cousin’s best friend lives next door to Gina.”

“Gina?”

“Conrad’s wife. Or widow, I should say.”

“Oh.” Conrad. Franco’s general. Or he was before I killed him. Shit. “I’m sorry?—”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I’ve heard stories of what kind of monster he was. How he treated Gina. You saved her life doing what you did. Thank you.”

She looks at me like I’m a hero rather than the villain. It’s weird. No one’s ever looked at me like that before.

“Anyway, the dress is the least I can do,” she adds.

I blink, remembering the garment she’s offering. “Thanks.” I take it gratefully and then hesitate when she doesn’t move. “Is there somewhere I can change?”

“Oh, yes.” She jumps and then shuffles past me to a scuffed gray door along the wall. “Bathroom’s here. Take your time, and help yourself to anything else you need.”

“I will.”

“I’m Becky, by the way.”

“Thanks, Becky.”

She smiles and then leaves me alone.

In the bathroom, I pull the dress over my head.

Becky was right. It’s close to my size. The fabric is thick and not very breathable.

But it’s better than a towel. After rummaging through a few bins, I manage to snag a pair of worn sandals and a floppy hat that I shove onto my head.

The last thing I need is someone reporting back to Vincenzo that I’ve been spotted alone.

When I’m done, I find a scrap of paper and a pen and scrawl a note to Becky, thanking her again. Then I slip out the back door into the sunshine and make my way downtown.

Through the mate bond, I feel Grey’s worry like a steady heartbeat. It’s not urgent like I expected, which means he senses that I’m okay. Maybe even that I need this alone time. I send back what I hope is gratitude and reassurance that I’m safe.

As I walk, the city unfolds around me, bright and busy, oblivious to the war brewing in its veins. I slip through it like a ghost until I find what I’m looking for.

Polished glass. Gold lettering. A memory tucked into the edges.

The salon Mia brought me to that first time she tried to dress me up and teach me how to move in this glittering world.

Inside, I walk up to the receptionist at the desk. Her smile falters when she sees me—wrinkled clothes, fraying shoes, hair wild from the wind—but I don't care.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“Is Alejandro here?” I ask, knowing it’s a long shot that the same stylist I met before is even here and has an opening.

Sure enough, there’s a beat of hesitation.

Then she nods. “Right this way, miss.”

Alejandro is excited to the point of exuberance when he sees me. He hugs me and air kisses my cheeks and holds onto me long enough to whisper, “Long live the queen.”

When I pull away, there’s genuine affection in his brown eyes and a hint of connection that takes me a beat to realize comes from a pack bond. He’s Giovanni pack. And he’s clearly pledged his loyalty to me already.

I relax, realizing I can trust him.

“Thanks for fitting me in,” I tell him gratefully.

“Anytime. Darling, you look…” His expression contorts as he takes in my outfit .

“I know,” I say hastily. “I need a transformation. Can you help?”

“Hah! Can I help? It’s what I do.”

I’m pressed into a chair and covered in plastic, which I think relieves him since it hides my dress. Then, he starts picking at my hair and eyeing me in the mirror as he peppers me with questions.

When he manages to pry out of me what I intend to do after this, my outfit is deemed “absolutely disgraceful.” My shoes and hat are thrown in the trash.

Alejandro says something to the receptionist, who gets on the phone.

Several minutes later, a woman arrives with a handful of outfit choices from the boutique down the block. While my color sets, I’m tucked into and out of a dozen different outfits until both Alejandro and the boutique clerk deem one of them “truly exquisite.”

Two hours later, I stare at my reflection and barely recognize myself. The girl looking back at me has sleek, styled hair that hangs in perfect waves. A deep emerald dress that hugs her body in a classy, subtly sexy way. Heels sharp enough to command attention.

I look like someone worth listening to.

I look like a leader.

A knock sounds at the door to the private dressing room Alejandro provided. Whoever it is doesn’t wait for me to answer before pushing the door open. I turn as Mia sweeps inside, followed by Andy, both of them looking a mixture of amused and impressed.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, bracing myself for a rant about safety and allowing myself to be guarded at all times.

“What the hell does it look like?” Mia replies. “We’re watching your back.”

“But…how did you know where to find me? ”

“Find you?” Mia shares a look with Andy that suggests I’m being slow. “We’ve been following you since you left the house.”

“And we’ve had enough of guarding the exits,” Andy puts in.

I blink. Since I left the house? “I didn’t sense you.”

“Okay, maybe not since you left,” Mia amends. “But close.”

“We picked up your trail at the thrift store,” Andy explains.

“But how—” I stop as realization dawns. “Grey.”

“He was going to make us leave you alone as long as you were in wolf form and away from the city. But when you shifted back and came here, he said we should find you and keep a closer eye on you,” Andy says.

“He didn’t come himself,” I say, glancing past them toward the front doors.

“He said he had something else to take care of,” Andy says, and worry spears through me. I search the bond to make sure Grey is okay. He was targeted with that interview too.

“Is he all right?” I ask.

“He’s fine,” Mia says, but I shake my head.

“His dad outed him about Dom. Maybe I should have stayed.”

“You should know that not a single pack member said a word about Dom’s death after you left,” Andy says.

“Literally no one,” Mia adds wryly. “Vincenzo only tossed it in to upset you.”

I blow out a breath, remembering the way the guards practically thanked Grey for doing it.

“I hope it’s okay that we’re here,” Andy adds.

“It’s fine,” I assure her. “I just… didn’t expect it.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to come to my favorite salon without me,” Mia pouts. “If anyone’s going to be pissed, it’s me. ”

My lips curve upward. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Mia scowls, hands on her hips.

Andy grins, gaze sweeping the length of me now. “But a gorgeous one.”

I don’t answer. Even with their swift forgiveness and easy jokes, I still half-expect anger. A lecture.

Instead, Mia closes the space and pulls me into a tight hug. “Next time,” she murmurs, “we make appointments and come together like besties.”

When she pulls away, I blink hard, throat burning with emotion.

“Deal,” I manage.

“Now, are you going to tell us the plan, or do we have to keep stalking you to figure it out?” Mia demands.

I clear my throat. “How do you know there’s a plan?”

“Please,” Andy snorts. “I just met you, and even I know your trauma response is not retail therapy.”

Mia laughs. “Yeah, that sounds more like me.”

“So,” Andy prompts, eyes glittering now. “What are we doing with this weapon you’ve made yourself into?” She gestures to the dress, makeup, and hair. “Because whatever it is, we want in.”

“Really?” I ask, my surprise slipping out before I can stop it.

Andy softens. “You don’t have to do everything alone anymore, Lexi," she says gently. “That’s what friends are for.”

For a second, the scrappy orphan inside me recoils, suspicious. But their warmth is real. And their loyalty is absolute. It reminds me of my friend Violet. How she used to constantly push me to open up to her. And how I never quite let myself do it.

But in this moment, with two badass friends standing in front of me, offering to fight at my side, I’m tired of surviving by myself. So, I hold my hands out, and they each take one .

“Thanks,” I whisper, my voice wobbling as I start to tell them my plan.

To my surprise, they both love it and offer to help put the gears into motion. By the time I’m finished explaining, Mia has made a couple of phone calls and set everything in motion.

They help me finish getting ready—adjusting the matching jacket, fixing my necklace, smoothing invisible wrinkles—and when we’re done, Mia pulls back and gives me a once-over.

“You're going to knock ‘em dead,” she says.

“Preferably not literally,” Andy adds, and we all laugh.

I can’t help but think it’s such a healing sound.

Outside, for once, there’s no black SUV waiting to take me somewhere. Instead, Mia calls us an Uber, and we pile into something tiny and electric and head toward the business district.

A couple of minutes later, we pull to a stop at the curb and climb out again.

Mia and Andy both sweep their gazes up and down the street, scanning for threats.

I turn my attention to the building before me.

Directly across the street from where I stand, the Indigo Press office looms, stark against the cloudy sky.

“Ready?” Andy asks, coming up beside me.

“Ready,” I murmur and hold my head up high as I walk inside.