Their scuffle becomes a wrestling match that nearly takes out the kitchen island. I step back, leaning on the counter and tucking myself into the corner to keep from getting caught in the fallout. Mia shrieks and shoves them out the back door, fussing at them to stop destroying property with their immaturity. They act like a group who’ve been friends forever, and I can’t help but feel outside of it all.

  Grey stands back too, and I catch him watching me more than once. It makes my heart thud stupidly every time, which pisses me off as much as it lights me up.

  I finish my plate of food and turn around to face the sink behind me, mostly to escape his stare. The sink is full of dishes and pans, and I don’t think about it; I just turn on the faucet and start washing.

  A minute later, Crow comes up beside me and says simply, “I’ll dry.”

  I glance back to see Grey’s gone and Crow and I are the only ones left.

  “Okay,” I tell him.

  He takes the clean plate out of my hands and goes to work on it with a dish towel. We work in companionable silence, and I almost forget that the quiet guy in the hoodie beside me is an explosives expert.

  “Thanks for the food,” I tell him. “It was really good.”

  He shrugs. “I like to cook.”

  “I like to eat.”

  He shoots me a small smile before falling silent again.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Grey says, coming in just as we’re finishing up.

  He carries his own empty plate, and I glance from it to him.

  “I know that,” I say, “But I clean up my own messes.”

  “Touché. I’ll clean my own mess, then, too.”

  He heads straight for the sink, and that means he and I will have to stand way too close for comfort, so I slip past him and wander into the next room. Before me, are large windows covered in gauzy curtains and wooden blinds that are open to reveal blooming rose bushes lining the front walkway. Roses in bright crimson reds and soft yellows crowd in amongst greenery and shrubs.

  Planters with similar greenery are dotted around the living room, each one strategically placed for access to the best light. The furniture is cozy, the couch made with thick cushions that are more worn than I’d expect for a house made of so much money.

  I have the impression someone in Grey’s family spends a lot of time here, and it’s not Vincenzo. There’s too much softness here. Too much peace and quiet.

  I’m admiring the tranquil feel of it all when two black SUVs race up the driveway hard enough to kick up gravel in their wake. They grind to a halt and park on either side of Dutch’s car, dust clouding up around them.

  “Grey,” I call, panic rising as I remember how Franco’s men drove these exact vehicles.

  Grey stalks into the room and looks at the SUVs skidding to a stop outside.

  “Crow, get the others,” Grey barks.

  From the kitchen, the back door opens and closes quickly. My eyes are glued to the cars, though, as the doors open and men in dressy clothes get out. Two wear suits, but the rest are in button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and dark dress pants.

  “Who are they?” I ask, throat threatening to close around the words.

  “The suits are two of Father’s generals,” Grey says grimly. He points them out and says, “Ramey’s dad and Mia’s.”

  “And the others?”

  “Security.”

  “Oh.” I relax as I realize it’s not Franco and his men, but Grey senses my relief and turns to me with a dark look.

  “They’re not here to protect us,” he warns.

  Before I can ask what he means, two more cars arrive. One is a dark Mercedes, and the other is a bright blue sportscar of some sort that was clearly not made for gravel lanes like this one.

  “Shit,” Grey mutters.

  I look at him, and he explains, “More generals. That one’s Razor’s old man, and that one’s Dutch’s.”

  “So, Mia, Ramsey, Razor, and Dutch are all sons and daughters of a general? What about Crow? Is his dad a general too?” I ask.

  “His dad is Razor’s dad,” Grey says quietly.

  “They’re brothers.”

  “Sort of,” is all he says.

  I want to ask what he means, but then a fifth vehicle pulls in—another SUV. It parks right in front of the porch, blocking everyone else in. My stomach tightens as the driver gets out, looking more like a UFC fighter than a professional chauffeur.

  “Get in the kitchen,” Grey tells me and then propels me that way by force.

  The back door opens as I hurry around the island toward the sink. Mia, Ramsey, Razor, and Dutch all file in. Crow is notably absent, but I don’t dare ask where he went as the front door bangs open and men file inside the living room. Mia grabs my arms and pulls me backward a step, tucking me in between her and Razor.

  Grey plants himself between the two groups in the open doorway that connects both rooms, his hard gaze on the four generals. They don’t say a word to anyone as they spread out in the suddenly-small space. Instead, they all sweep the faces of those present and settle on me.

  I swallow hard as I study their faces.

  “Razor, you fucking idiot,” one of them snarls with a trace of a Hispanic accent. He’s taller with dark hair like Razor and has the same broad build and thick arms.

  Razor stiffens beside me, but his tone is light as he shrugs and says, “You know me, pops.”

  The man snorts, his hands fisting at his sides. “You never fucking learn.”

  “Mia, I swear, you’re better than this crowd,” says the man Grey pointed out as Mia’s father. His hair is a reddish hue though nowhere near as bright her hers.

  “That’s what I keep telling them, Daddy,” she drawls.

  The man’s eyes flash with irritation.

  “Ramsey, you and I are going to have that chat I’ve been promising you,” his father says. His golden hair is streaked with gray, but he’s toned and even more built than Ramsey is. What is it with these mafia guys and their huge size?

  “Bring it, Pops,” Ramsey says, the last word dripping with sarcasm.

  The man growls, and I tense, wondering if this room is large enough to hold even one of them in wolf form.

  Finally, another figure steps in through the front door, and a hush falls over the space. The generals part quickly for him to pass, and he steps to the front. I don’t need to see his face to know who it is, but the moment I do, the fury emanating has me shrinking back.

  Vincenzo.

  The others around me have gone rigid though I don’t know if it’s from fear, like me, or fury.

  “You defied my direct order, you piece of shit,” Vincenzo snarls at Grey.

  I flinch, but Grey says nothing.

  “I should bury you for this,” Vincenzo adds.

  “Maybe,” Grey says evenly. “Though you’re the one who begged me to come back to this fucking city. You get what you pay for: isn’t that what they say?”

  “You fucking ingrate,” Vincenzo roars in his face.

  Grey blinks but otherwise doesn’t react. My heart thunders against my ribcage, fear clogging my throat. Every one of these men looks like they want to kill us. Or at least kill Grey.

  And, if even one shifts into a wolf, I’m helpless.

  Hell, I’m already helpless against them.

  “This is insanity,” Vincenzo goes on.

  He swings away from Grey to face the rest of us, his angry gaze sweeping from Dutch to Ramsey. “You all violated the sacred respect of a man’s home. An attack like that has been against the rules of engagement since this city was created, and in one single morning, you’ve shit all over our last upheld agreement. Franco’s rallying his damned soldiers as we speak. You’ve just started a fucking war.”

  “We were already at war the moment you took Lexi,” Grey tells him.

  I suck in a breath at the way Vincenzo’s face reddens as he rounds on his son. “I did not give you permission to speak. And you.” He swivels again, marching up to me until he’s close enough for me to feel the rage radiating from his body. Mia presses in against me, but it’s not reassuring when the monster’s sole attention is on me.

  “You do not get to make demands. You are not in charge here, do you understand me?”

  I bite my tongue against the urge to say something snarky, which would likely get me killed right now. But apparently, his question is not rhetorical. He leans closer so that I flinch back as he roars, “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” I say but Grey walks over and faces his father, nearly wedging himself between us.

  Razor and Mia remain where they are, forming a solid wall around me. I swallow hard against the terror choking me, but it remains. Still, I refuse to let him see it, so I keep my chin up and force my breathing to remain even.

  “Lexi’s agreed to our terms,” Grey tells him. “She and I will announce the engagement tonight.”

  Vincenzo turns to glare at him. “You’re damn right you will. Because, if either one of you has a hair out of place or a single fucking eyelash out of line from here out, I will remind you of your place in this organization. By whatever means necessary.”

  “Understood,” Grey says.

  The generals grumble their agreement and irritation. But Vincenzo is practically vibrating with his contained rage.

  “Now, you owe me for the blatant disrespect you showed this morning,” Vincenzo tells Grey.

  “I’m prepared to take the hit,” Grey says.

  Something about the way he says it sends a chill up my spine. What kind of hit?

  “And what about the rest of you?” Vincenzo bellows.

  Grey’s eyes widen a fraction, but he quickly clamps down on his expression. “No.”

  “The fuck did you just say?” Vincenzo demands.

  “It was all on me,” Grey says. “I gave the order. They only followed them.”

  “Doesn’t fucking matter. They all owe for what they did today,” Vincenzo says.

  “Then I’ll pay it all,” Grey says, shooting Mia a glare when she tries to argue.

  She falls silent again, her hand sliding into mine and squeezing. I keep my surprise at the gesture off my face, and while I don’t squeeze back, I don’t let go either. My heart thuds as I try to understand what’s happening—and what exactly Grey is paying with for his insubordination.

  “Fine,” Vincenzo says smugly. “Outside. Now.” He turns to glance at the rest of us and says, “Stay inside. If a single one of you steps out that door, I’ll double his payment.”

  Everyone bows their head, and I have to bite back a curse at the way he sneers at them, challenging them to argue. But no one does.

  Vincenzo shoves past Grey out the back door, and the generals follow.

  “Grey,” Mia says, but he shakes his head to shush her.

  “Don’t.” He glances from me back to her. “Make sure she stays inside,” he adds. “No matter what.”

  Mia’s shoulders sag. “I will.”

  22

  GREY

  I stalk through the backyard, not stopping until I’m near the riverbank and hopefully far enough that the view from the kitchen windows is at least partially obstructed. Doesn’t matter, though. I already know the squad will feel every single bit of what’s to come, which is another reason to get as far from the house as possible. If my father learns we’re developing a pack bond again, he won’t be satisfied with letting me pay for their sins.

  As long as my true family remains out of his reach, I don’t care what kind of punishment he gives me.

  This is on me, not them.

  Near the water’s edge, I begin to strip out of my clothes and toss them away. This bullshit isn’t worth wasting an outfit. My father, however, doesn’t share the same sense of practicality.

  He marches toward me, already shifting into his wolf as he comes. His snarl rips from his throat even while he’s still human. I shift too, forcing the change as quickly as possible so I can be ready. Not that it’ll do me much good, but being ripped into as a wolf is preferable over having my human body shredded by canines and claws.

  My father doesn’t wait, either.

  The minute he reaches me, he growls low and threatening, looming over me until his alpha power cowers my wolf. I grit my teeth against the feeling, hating how out of control I feel when he asserts his dominance this way.

  Once, I defied him and resisted it—but that’s what landed me in this fucked up mess in the first place. So, if he thinks I’m doing it again now, he’s wrong.

  For a second, as memories wash over me, I wonder if this is the whole test. Him asserting his dominance if only to see whether I’ll fight him a second time. But the moment I lower my head out of deference, he sinks his teeth into my shoulder. Not a test then.

  Fuck.

  His canines rip straight through muscle, and agony follows.

  I make a sound of pain, barely managing to bite back a howl as a chunk of fur and flesh is ripped away.

  That’s one.

  My father’s wolf backs away and spits out the mix of blood and fur then snarls at me and comes again. There is absolutely no trace of compassion or remorse in his hateful eyes, nor do I expect there to be. The man is a monster, through and through.

  I can feel his enjoyment radiating from his wolf; the satisfaction he gets from taking me apart bite by bite while I’m helpless to fight back. It’s sick. And it’s exactly why he deserves to be removed from power. So he can never do this to anyone else.

  He rips me apart, leaving four more deep gashes in my body. One on each shoulder and two on my left flank for a total of five. He doesn’t go for my throat, and I realize, as I sag to the grass, hissing and huffing in pain, that I half-expected him to just end me right here on the riverbank with all my friends watching.

  With her watching.

  With so much of his alpha power flowing at me, I also get glimpses of his thoughts, and I can feel his desire to do just that. But he backs away, his muzzle bloody from the damage he’s done to me.

  I don’t fight back. I couldn’t if I wanted to. The weight of his alpha power still hangs over me like a guillotine ready to fall if I resist him. And he wants that too.

  A reason to end me. To end the disappointment that I am to him. But then he wouldn’t be able to torture me like this anymore.

  Finally, he steps back and stares down at me.

  I don’t bother to look up at him.

  If I do, I might just kill him. With his generals standing around, watching the spectacle of a one-sided fight, my odds of surviving a dumb move like that are not good.

  Instead, I stay down and wait for him to leave so I can drag myself into the woods and try to heal. But the power around me prickles with an uneasy pressure, and he comes forward again. I tense, confused. Five, that’s what I offered to take. One for me and one for each of the general’s children—or the heirs they bother to recognize. Unless he’s finally decided to acknowledge Crow as a legitimate heir.

  The pressure grows stronger until the weight of it presses down around me and shoves my nose into the dirt. The pressure becomes a buzzing in my ears that seeps into my skin and settles inside my bones. My body tightens and contorts even though I never asked it to. I squeeze my fists and grit my teeth against the pain, but there’s no stopping what my father’s wolf has ordered of mine.

  Slowly, my wolf begins to recede, and I shift back to my human form—against my will, which only makes the process hurt so much fucking worse than it should.

  When it’s done, I’m face-down, naked, and bleeding from several deep gashes across my body. My father’s wolf approaches, towering over me, and I hear his alpha voice in my head.

  This one’s for the girl.

  It takes me a minute to understand what he means. And who. But then I realize he means to take punishment for Lexi too. In his eyes, she’s just as much to blame as we are for what happened with Franco, and I volunteered to pay for everyone’s mistake. All I can think is that, by forcing my shift, he’s decided to leave her alone. Relief makes my shoulders sag heavier than before.

  Suddenly, even more than the pain, I feel exhausted.

  “Fine,” I say. “It’s done.”

  He turns to walk away, and I reach for my wolf, ready to shift back again so that I can begin to heal. These wounds need the power of my wolf form before they become a risk for infection with the way I’ve just rolled around on the ground. But my wolf remains out of reach.

  Panic stirs inside me as I struggle to access it and come up empty.

  My father shifts back to human form. I don’t bother acknowledging him, but then he leans over me and speaks.

  “Your wolf will be inaccessible for a few days. I suggest you get up and dress those wounds properly. You’ll need to look the part for tonight’s event.”

  He turns and walks away, and I lift my head enough to watch him go.

  One of his security detail walks up and hands him another set of clothes. I watch from my stomach as he disappears into the house along with his entourage of generals.

  For a moment, I can only lie here, letting his words sink in and absorbing the shock of what he’s done to me. An alpha has complete power and dominance over his pack—including overriding our own access to our beasts. But no alpha has ever used it before. Not like this.

  Never, in all of Franco’s years as alpha of this city, has he ever suppressed another shifter’s wolf.

  Neither has my father—until now.

  Until me.

  The shock doesn’t last long, though, because, of course, it would be me he’d inflict this on. I defied him once, and he’ll never forget that. He’ll never let me stop paying for it either.

  Suddenly, my decision to step up earlier is even more important. Because, in this moment, I realize I only ever had two choices anyway. Continue to live under the dominance of my father, or challenge him once and for all. Even if it kills me, I can’t live this way forever, which means I never really had a choice at all.

  Getting up is harder than I expect. The wounds on my body burn and scream at me as I slowly pull myself to my knees. Without my wolf to help dull the pain and strengthen my body, I feel slow and weak.