Page 34 of Broken Wolf Heart (Mafia Pack #3)

GREY

S t. Andrews smells like fresh flowers and expensive cologne.

A cloying mixture that fills my head with memories.

A lifetime of weddings and funerals and baptisms; of gatherings filled with fake smiles and self-righteous pride.

All of it wrapped up in a pack where corruption is the uninvited guest filling every empty pew.

Franco’s funeral flowers aren’t the usual muted, tasteful arrangements. They’re bright to the point of being overstated. Blood red roses so steeped in color and scent, clearly on the verge of rotting.

Fitting, really. Franco Giovanni deserves nothing less. Lexi says Andy planned the details, but I have to wonder who decided on the macabre color scheme that is crimson bouquets set among dark gray balloons.

It sends a message. Not just to the guests crowding the pews as we gather one last time for the monster who ran this city. But to the corpse of that man now lying inside the open casket at the front of the room.

Even so, it’s not him I’m looking at.

It’s her .

Lexi stands at the back of the church near the main entrance, a vision in black.

Her shoulders are stiff, her expression solemn.

It’s not the broken kind of mourning that comes with losing a loved one.

She wears her grief like armor—fitted, sharp, and tailored to draw every eye in the room. She looks like pure power.

She hasn’t spotted me yet. Good. I don’t want her to see the way my hands won’t stop flexing. The way my wolf paces just beneath the surface, agitated and alert. The way I’ve already marked every possible exit and every armed man in this building. And it’s not just my wolf I’m wrestling with.

The creature inside me is awake.

I can’t stop thinking that this public arena is the perfect place to make some kind of move against us.

I’m not sure my father will come at us so directly in front of witnesses, but if it were me, I would.

So I can’t let my guard down. And I can’t let her out of my sight.

Not even to fight off the darkness inside me.

The pews are nearly full. Family. Pack. Civilians. Reporters. Enemies dressed like mourners.

And my father.

Front row. Polished shoes. Custom suit. Snake-oil smile.

He sits like he owns the place, like this church exists for him alone. Like Franco’s body is his final prop in a show designed to smear Lexi and manipulate the crowd.

But he’s not the only one with theatrics up their sleeve.

I spot Dutch and Mia halfway down the left side.

Razor and Crow flank the aisle, eyes sharp, shoulders stiff.

Andy stands close beside Lexi, her gaze watchful for any kind of threat.

A few of Lexi’s lieutenants line the wall in the vestibule, Donahue and Camila among them.

Dutch says they’re the most loyal so far.

She’s protected. I keep reminding myself of that since it’s the only grip on control I have left. Lexi is mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. As long as I do that, I stand a chance of holding onto my sanity until this thing ends.

And then?—

My mother walks in.

I’ve been calling her since the wedding with no answer. My worry for her is only second to my need to remain at Lexi’s side. But I scan the sight of her, looking for evidence of harm.

She’s in a knee-length black dress with a matching jacket.

The cut is conservative with long sleeves and a high neckline that doesn’t show much skin.

Something in her posture is off. Slumped, worn, not like her usual queen-on-her-throne elegance.

When she finally takes off her large sunglasses, I can see that she’s pale with dark circles under her eyes.

She bears no visible bruises, but I’ve seen what my father can do.

They either healed already, or she’s hiding them well.

The anger flares white-hot.

My mother was once mine to protect too. My failure to do so drove me from this city once. Seeing her now brings it all back. I clench my fists and force myself to breathe through it.

But it’s getting harder to hold the leash.

I can feel the alpha power in my blood like static under my skin. A yawning darkness that threatens to swallow me up. To take me over. To rule everyone, including me.

I shake my head to clear it.

This is not the time to lose control.

And if it slips the leash here, in front of all these people? There will be blood. I might not have control over whose.

Lexi’s gaze sweeps the church. Our eyes lock.

And the chaos inside me stills.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

Not just in the way that makes people stare. But in the way she carries the future of this city on her shoulders like it belongs to her. Like, no matter how many knives are pointed at her back, they won’t pierce her .

And I’m lucky enough to be married to her. Not just married. Mated. The realization steals my breath and evaporates my worries.

For one perfect second, I forget where we are. Or what dangers lurk.

Then something catches my eye from above. I look up.

And freeze.

A shadow on the balcony.

Tall. Golden. Familiar.

My heart stutters.

Ramsey.

The hallucination hits so hard I have to grip the edge of the pew in front of me.

It can’t be.

He wouldn’t be this stupid.

And yet, for that heartbeat, I see him clearly. That casual slouch. That smirk. A flex of his muscles as he presses his fist into his palm in a silent promise.

I blink.

The spot is empty.

The mirage of my former packmate gone as quickly as it came.

Maybe it was nothing.

Maybe it was everything.

My chest aches. Not from rage this time. From grief.

He was my brother. Maybe not by blood, but in all the ways that mattered. I miss him.

Even now.

But thanks to his betrayal, loyalty has never meant more than it does today.

The priest calls everyone to their seats.

Lexi makes her way down the aisle to where I wait at the front.

I take her hand in mine, refusing to look at the balcony again.

Instead, I walk across the aisle and drop a kiss on my mother’s cheek.

Squeeze her shoulder in a silent hello. She gives me a forced smile from where she sits beside my father.

“I love you,” I whisper in her ear.

She doesn’t respond, and my father doesn’t so much as blink.

Lexi steps up behind me and takes her hand, offers a quick smile of her own, then steps back again. We take our seats across the aisle from them. My pack and hers fill in behind us.

When everyone is seated, the priest speaks.

Something about legacy. About Franco. About the man who built an empire.

I don’t let myself hear it, not really. If I did, I’d likely lose it.

Nothing about Franco’s legacy is worth keeping—or honoring, for that matter.

But apparently, we’re going to pretend otherwise for one more day.

When the priest is finished, he nods at the first guest speaker, and my father stands.

I tense.

He walks slowly up the aisle, face somber. Controlled. Every step calculated to draw the eye.

He mounts the stage like a fucking politician.

The crowd quiets.

“Franco Giovanni was a titan. A leader. A father to us all,” he says, voice deep and practiced. “He was an alpha whose presence commanded respect and whose vision shaped this city.”

He pauses, no doubt for dramatic effect. “I had the honor of standing beside him through the years. He was a mentor to many, and to me, more than that. He was family.”

Bullshit.

My wolf strains beneath my skin.

The darkness whispers in my ear.

“Today, we mourn him by honoring the work he did in the past. But we must also look to the future.” He lifts his chin, scanning the room. “This city deserves leadership forged in loyalty. In strength. In understanding. Someone who puts the safety of our people before their own ambition.”

His gaze slides pointedly toward Lexi. Subtle. Measured. Poison dipped in politeness. “Not those who court chaos. Who stumble into a position of power they barely understand, carrying a name and a title they didn’t earn.”

A low growl rips through my chest before I can stop it.

Lexi squeezes my hand, her thumb brushing over my skin.

It helps. A little.

My father doesn’t acknowledge my outburst. He just keeps going.

“We need leaders who remember what it means to serve. Not reign. Leaders who will protect the balance between our kind and theirs. Who won’t let blood and legacy be tainted by experiments and ambition.”

My nails dig into my thigh.

I know exactly what he’s doing.

And so does Lexi.

But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just watches him with that same regal stillness she possessed on our wedding day. Like the eye of a fucking hurricane.

My father bows his head. “Franco Giovanni was devoted to this city, and so am I. As a tribute to his memory, I can only hope to be as great a true alpha as he once was.”

He steps down to a smattering of applause.

My wolf still claws under my skin, impatient. I can feel the shift threatening at the base of my spine.

But I breathe through it.

For her.

She came here in full view of her enemies to honor the man who tried to control her and the system that tried to break her. And she did it not to mourn Franco but to show she’s not afraid .

She’s ten times stronger and better than my father will ever be.

So, I sit. I wait. I keep my wolf on a tight leash. And I let the darkness wrap itself around my heart instead of someone else’s throat.

At a nod from the priest, Lexi rises.

The moment she takes the podium, the church quiets.

“Franco Giovanni built this city on strength of will,” she begins, her voice even, warm. “He made hard choices, some of them to the detriment of the people affected by them. And while I didn’t agree with his actions, I respect the pack he built.”

I watch her. Every syllable honest, every word genuine. She’s not pretending. She’s doing what so few of them ever could—telling the truth without making someone bleed for it.

“There are those who think leadership is about dominance. That it comes from inheritance or tradition. But leadership, real leadership, is about responsibility. About listening. About fighting for people who may never thank you for it. People who can’t fight for themselves.”

A murmur of approval ripples through the crowd.

Lexi looks out at them all, letting her hands rest flat on the podium.

“This city deserves protection. Compassion. A future that doesn’t bury its past but learns from it.

Franco showed us his way. Now, let me show you mine.

Because I will fight for the people of Indigo Hills every damned day you allow me to lead it. ”

When she’s finished, there’s no applause. Just stunned quiet.

And then someone near the back stands and places their hand over their heart. A silent pledge of loyalty.

Another follows.

Then another.

Until most of the room is standing and pledging.

Not a cheer. Not a roar. But respect.