Page 5 of Broken Wolf Heart (Mafia Pack #3)

I stare after them, my thoughts racing. A pack meeting right now can only be about one thing: me. About whether to kill me or let me be their alpha. I can’t tell which side Toros is on, but it won’t matter. Majority will rule, and by the end of the day, I’ll know my fate.

I swallow hard and force myself to follow them. Refusing will only prolong the inevitable. And I need to get this over with before my wolf takes me over completely. I’m not entirely sure what that will be like, but I know I don’t want to do it in front of these people.

Already, I can feel the heat from earlier returning. It’s like a pressure building and building until I finally combust. All I can do is hold it off as long as possible—and hope I live through the experience.

We take the SUV again.

Andy rides in the back with me while Toros sits up front with the driver, who wears a black security uniform.

No one speaks, and I concentrate on keeping my shit together.

When we slide to a stop, I recognize the luxury high-rise office immediately.

It’s the same one where the last pack meeting was held.

When Franco put a bullet in Anthony Greco in front of a full auditorium like it was nothing.

But it’s not the sight of the building I’ve had nightmares about that gets me.

It’s the crowd that pulls my attention and renders me immobile in my seat.

People are lining the sidewalk on both sides of the street.

Men in black shirts and suits—some I recognize from Vincenzo’s pack—are acting as a barricade, pushing people back.

Police cars have pulled sideways with their lights flashing, using their cruisers to barricade the street ahead of us as they direct traffic, one car at a time, through the narrow opening between pedestrians.

I’ve never seen this many people gathered in one place. There are easily five times as many people here as there were last time during the protests.

It’s insane.

They’re all yelling, but I can’t make any of it out.

Toros gets out and opens my door, but still, I don’t move. What if they’re all here to witness my execution?

“It’s okay, Lexi,” Andy says from beside me.

I don’t believe her. But what choice do I have?

Sliding out of the backseat, I force my knees not to buckle as I step from the car. Andy slides out behind me, her presence behind me urging me to move farther onto the sidewalk.

The crowd glimpses me and goes wild. People scream my name.

They point their phones at me, snapping pictures or even filming me just standing here.

Some wave homemade signs in the air, but I don’t read them.

I’m too afraid they’ll be calling for my death in print, and there’s no way my control can handle that.

Instead, I scan the faces for anyone familiar.

I tell myself I’d take Mia, Dutch, Razor—even Crow right now. But it’s Grey I’m really looking for .

I don’t find any of them among the people treating me like I’m some kind of A-list celebrity.

My heart sinks, and the wild animal inside me thrashes harder in its disappointment.

I’ve never felt more alone.

“Guess the word is out,” Toros says with a menacing frown.

Andy appears at my elbow. “Just breathe,” she says so only I can hear.

Toros takes the lead, and Andy nudges me to follow.

We climb the steps to the high-rise office building. Someone opens the door for us, and I hurry through behind Toros, exhaling as the volume of the crowd lessens through the glass.

GV Industries is exactly as I remember. The same pristine marble floors, the same cool sterility with all its white, shiny surfaces.

And the same auditorium with its stadium seating and sunken center stage.

The last time I was here, I witnessed my first execution. Now, I’m the one in the crosshairs.

As if to prove what I’m up against, the first face I see inside the crowded auditorium is Vincenzo Diavolo. Grey’s father and Alpha of the Diavolo pack. Right now, he’s the most powerful man in the room. And the way he watches me reminds me I’m only alive as long as he finds me useful.

Still, there’s not so much murder in his eyes that I worry about Ramsey’s confession just yet. Instead, I think of the deal I made with him in exchange for my wolf. So much has happened since then, but the way he looks at me says he hasn’t forgotten what I promised him.

He gave me back my beast, and for that, I swore to give him the entire kingdom. It was a title I never thought I’d own, much less be able to pass it to him. But now, it may very well have just fallen into my lap. And the gleam in his eye makes it clear he expects me to toss it right into his .

“Hello, Lexi,” he says, managing to make the simple greeting sound like a death threat.

He sits in the front row with his generals beside him. Alvaro—Razor and Crow’s father—glares at me. Rocco, Dutch’s dad, simply lifts a brow as if he’s measured me and found me lacking. Charlie, Mia’s dad, won’t meet my eyes.

I’m not sure what that means. While Vincenzo held me hostage at his house, Charlie warned me that I should find another way that didn’t involve trusting Grey’s father with my fate. It had been a little too late for that, but I haven’t forgotten that he tried to help me in his own way.

I don’t look at him either as I pass by them all without a word. My gaze sweeps upward into the stadium seats, and I suck in a breath when I see a head of flowing red hair halfway up.

Mia winks at me.

Beside her, Dutch and Razor lean over the seat in front of them, their attention focused intently on me.

The sight of them bolsters my courage, and I think for just a second that maybe I’ll make it out of this room alive after all.

But then my chest squeezes as I realize Grey is missing.

Why isn’t he here? Especially when everyone else clearly is.

Even Serena, his mother, is seated a couple of rows behind Vincenzo, next to Sonesta, Rocco’s wife.

She offers me a kind but fleeting smile before I turn away from her.

“Everyone, listen up,” Santiago calls from the center of the sunken stage. The murmurs in the room ignore him, so he tries again. “Sit the fuck down and shut your mouths. We’re going to begin the vote.”

Andy motions for me to sit beside her on the far end of the front row. Before I can sink into my chair, Conrad steps forward, blocking my path and forcing me to face him.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Santiago says from the podium behind me. But Conrad ignores him .

His sneer is a sharp blade meant to cut, and his voice carries the venom of a man who thinks he should be king.

“You don’t deserve a fucking vote, much less an alpha title,” he says, his voice ringing loud enough to silence the low murmur of the assembled packs.

“Can you even shift?” He snorts. “Of course not.” He leans in, close enough to me that I can scent his stale breath.

“You’re just some orphaned street rat who got lucky. ”

Lucky. Right. Because getting kidnapped just screams good fortune.

I force myself to stand tall, ignoring the way my muscles coil like I’ve been backed into a corner. Or the way the beast inside me wants to come out of that corner, claws swinging.

“That’s funny,” I say, my voice calm even as my pulse hammers. “Coming from Franco’s fourth in line…out of four.”

Conrad’s expression flashes with rage. “What the fuck did you just say to me, bitch?”

“Oh. Did I misunderstand the hierarchy?” I ask, watching a vein bulge in his neck at my taunting.

“You don’t know shit,” he spits out.

“I know Dom was first in line,” I say, vaguely aware of the crowd now hanging on our exchange. “And then Toros, Santiago, and then you. Oh wait. Dom’s dead, so I guess that makes you third.”

Conrad’s gaze flicks over my shoulder to where I know Toros stands watching, but the elder general remains silent.

“What the fuck do you mean Dom’s dead?” Conrad asks in a voice laced with deadly calm.

Right. No one knows this yet.

Some vaguely sane part of me tries to nudge me to shut up. But we’re so far past that now. Besides, walking back a statement like that will only be seen as weakness.

“Would you like me to spell it out for you?” I snarl, anger swirling through my veins as I remember that night. The way Dom tried to attack the moment he saw me alone and vulnerable.

I refuse to ever be seen like that again.

“Dom’s throat is no longer attached to his body. He’s dead. Gone. But at least that’s a promotion for you, right?”

A ripple of agreement spreads through the room.

I hold my ground, but the beast inside me is rising again.

Just like at Franco’s, I can feel her scratching at my insides, trying to claw her way free.

Sweat coats my face and neck as I struggle to hold her off.

To focus on how to respond to this room full of powerful predators who are one majority vote away from ending me where I stand.

“You need to back off,” I manage, my hands fisting at my sides.

Conrad studies me. Through hazy vision, I see him frown. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? You smell like a damned rabid she-wolf.”

Someone touches my elbow. I yank away from the unexpected contact, backing toward the center of the floor in order to gain some space. Everyone is suddenly too close. Too loud. Their scents overwhelming.

I can’t breathe.

“She definitely smells like a wolf now,” someone else comments.

Santiago maybe.

I can barely make out the voice through the roar in my own ears.

“She is a wolf, and she’s the rightful heir,” says a female voice full of authority.

Mia.

I squint up at her, but she’s not in her seat.

She’s standing in the aisle less than ten feet away. Dutch and Razor are behind her, looking like they hope this ends in a pummeling .

“She looks like shit,” Conrad says. He sounds smug.

“Hurry up and vote,” someone else calls. “Get her the fuck out of here. She looks ready to hurl.”