I feel human.

  From here, the house looks like it’s miles away, and I suppress a groan as I push to my feet and start limping toward it. Out front, a car starts, followed quickly by doors opening and closing. I relax a little, knowing the generals are departing.

  Hopefully, he is too.

  A moment later, the rest of the cars start up, and one by one, they all drive away, their tires crunching over gravel. My father’s car is the last to go, but when it does, my knees buckle. Exhaustion and pain overwhelm my senses. My chest aches with every single breath.

  I grab the low wall near the firepit, disgusted with how slow my progress is and how easily my body is giving out. The back door opens, and a figure comes out. I don’t have to look up to know who it is. Even without my wolf, I can feel her.

  Lexi doesn’t say a word to me as she steps up beside me and slides her arm around my waist. I inhale sharply, but she’s careful to keep her hands away from my wounds, and I realize I’m reacting to her soft touch rather than to any pain she’s caused me. She doesn’t give me a chance to pull away, though. Her other hand grabs my wrist, and she slings my arm over her shoulder, letting me put my weight on her as she slowly walks us toward the house.

  Her body against mine is heaven.

  This isn’t like the lap dance. There’s no lust. Well, maybe a little, as evidenced by my dick stirring at the way Lexi’s hands press up against my bare skin. But mostly, there’s comfort. The feel of Lexi flush against my hip, helping me when I’m at my weakest, stirs a strange feeling in my chest. It’s a sensation I haven’t felt in years—long before I left this place in search of peace and freedom. And it’s so foreign I can’t name it. One thing I do know: the cruelty, the pain, the “payment” as he calls it—none of those things strip me bare like Lexi Giovanni with her soft, slender arms holding me upright.

  And then I know exactly what this strange feeling is. Having Lexi here beside me feels like home.

  23

  LEXI

  The moment Vincenzo follows Grey out the back door, I press myself against the kitchen window, but Mia pulls me back.

  “You don’t want to see this,” she tells me grimly.

  “Yes,” I say, pulling out of her grasp. “I do. I have to.”

  She studies me for a beat and then sighs. “Okay. Come on. You can see better from the bedroom.”

  She hesitates until all the generals follow Vincenzo out. Then she leads me down the hall and into the first bedroom on the left. It faces the back of the house and, true to her word, offers a large window view of the grassy area where Grey stands.

  Vincenzo stalks after him, but it’s Grey I stare at, wide-eyed, as he removes his clothing and tosses it aside. First, his shirt, revealing a toned chest and rippled abs, and then his pants, revealing—

  Damn.

  I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry as I take in the sight of him on full display. Tattoos wrap his arms, ending at his shoulder and highlighting how darkly dangerous he can be. A danger that turns me on more than it should. Some part of me is aware of how thirsty I must look, but I can’t quite bring myself to care. Grey is breathtaking, and I can’t do anything but admire the sight of him so unconcerned with how exposed he is.

  If I hadn’t been staring like a stalker, I might have missed the first small ripple beneath his skin. But the second and third ones are unmistakable.

  My eyes go wide, and now I can’t look away for entirely different reasons as his arms and legs begin to stretch and move. Fur sprouts along his skin. His brow furrows in what looks like concentration or intensity. A second later, he falls to his knees, but by the time his hands land, they’re giant paws.

  Grey is gone, and in his place stands a giant, charcoal-colored wolf. I’d only seen him in this form once, and I’d been so panicked at the time that I’d secretly begun to convince myself I’d imagined the entire thing.

  But there’s no imagining this.

  And to make it more surreal, I watch as Vincenzo shifts too. He doesn’t bother removing his clothes first and instead just shreds them as he shifts mid-stride. His wolf is so dark brown he’s nearly black, and his lips are already pulled back in an angry snarl. He stalks over to where Grey stands and leans over him until Grey’s wolf lowers his head.

  “What’s happening?” I ask Mia.

  She stands a couple of feet away, also watching the two wolves. Her forehead is creased with some internal effort. She doesn’t look away from them as she tells me, “Vincenzo is using his alpha power to make Grey submit.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “So he can’t fight back.”

  Her words are punctuated by a snarl loud enough to hear through the window. I swing my gaze back to the two wolves just in time to see Vincenzo ripping a chunk out of Grey’s shoulder. Blood leaks from the open wound, and I gasp.

  “We have to help him.” I dart out of the room and am halfway down the hall when Ramsey appears, blocking my way. His expression is pinched.

  “Move,” I say, “Vincenzo’s hurting him.”

  “I know,” he says quietly, but he doesn’t move.

  “We have to help,” I say, trying to shove him, but the guy’s like a brick wall.

  “We can’t go out there,” Ramsey says sadly.

  I stare at him as another yelp sounds from outside. My heart squeezes as I think of Grey being hurt because of what we did. No, because of what I asked him to do.

  “What is wrong with you?” I demand, my panic building to a breaking point. “We can’t just let him be attacked by his own father.”

  “He chose it,” Mia says tightly.

  “What difference does that make if he’s hurting?” I demand.

  “He’s not the only one,” Ramsey says, wincing as a third yelp sounds.

  The sound of it nearly breaks me. All I can think is how this is all my fault. His pain is on my shoulders. It makes me desperate to do something. Anything but stand here and watch helplessly.

  I turn and shove her aside, racing back to the bedroom in time to see Vincenzo biting Grey’s flank and ripping a wound wide open. My breath catches. It’s horrific—the blood and flesh being exposed is awful, but the fact that all four generals are standing and watching in calm silence is beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed before. Not to mention the ones here in the house with me.

  Grey’s friends.

  Mia and Ramsey hover in the doorway behind me, probably to make sure I don’t leave this room again.

  Ugh.

  “What kind of friends leave their leader to suffer like this alone?” I demand, feeling vicious in my helplessness.

  Mia doesn’t react, but Ramsey’s eyes flash with guilt before he looks away from me.

  Fucking cowards.

  I turn back to the window as Vincenzo steps back, his wolf still hovering near where Grey has fallen on his belly. Then, slowly, Grey’s body begins to shift like before. Except, this is nothing like last time. It’s a slow-motion version with limbs cracking and moving in ways that don’t look natural compared to his earlier shift. Whatever’s happening has the two behind me sucking in a breath and making grunting sounds of frustration and pain.

  “What’s going on?” I demand.

  “He’s forcing him to shift,” Ramsey says, his voice strained.

  “Can he do that?” I ask.

  “As alpha of the Diavolo pack, yeah, technically, he can,” Mia whispers.

  I look at them, noting the way Mia’s face has gone white.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “We formed a pack bond with Grey, which means we feel some of what he feels right now,” Ramsey tells me.

  I study them, noting the way Mia’s biting her lip now and Ramsey’s hands are fisted at his sides. My heart thuds heavily, both with panic and concern. I’m still figuring out how all this pack hierarchy works, but that’s the least of my concerns right now.

  Finally, I turn back to the window and watch as Grey’s body slowly becomes human again. He lies unmoving on his stomach as Vincenzo turns and walks away from him. The generals stay put until Vincenzo passes them, shifting back to his human form as he approaches the house. Someone passes the alpha a set of clothes, which he snags as he heads for the back door. I brace myself for him to come in here, my fear and fury merging until I’m not sure if I want him to come for me next or just leave without a word.

  In the end, it’s not up to me anyway.

  Mia and Ramsey step inside the bedroom, and Ramsey closes the door with a soft click, shutting us in together. No one speaks as we listen to Vincenzo move through the house, getting dressed and calling orders to his men. The other generals file back into the house, and a moment later, the front door opens as they all exit to the parking area.

  Judging from the sound of their voices, Vincenzo is the last to leave, but when the door shuts behind him, I breathe a sigh of relief. Glancing out the window, I see that Grey has managed to get to his feet. He’s bleeding and dirty and walking like he might keel over at any moment.

  Determined, I step up to where Ramsey blocks the door. “Let me out.”

  I half-expect him to fight me but, instead, he flicks a glance at Mia, who apparently gives him whatever answer he needs.

  He moves silently aside.

  I fling open the door and hurry down the hall and outside. Grey falters as he reaches the patio, but I’m already there, grabbing him and helping him make it the rest of the way.

  His skin is warm, and while I’m careful not to touch his wounds, he tenses when I wrap my hand around his ribs. Grabbing his other wrist, I drape his tattooed arm over my shoulder so he can lean on me for support. The worst part is that he lets me, and I know that speaks to how injured and weak he is in this moment. The Grey I’m used to would never show this kind of vulnerability.

  My heart aches for him. Despite everything he’s done, he didn’t deserve this. I’m aware that he’s still naked, but it’s not the distraction it was before, not when he’s struggling to even remain upright. Not when he’s bloody and beaten—because of me.

  Dutch appears at the back door, holding it open for us to pass inside. As we do, he holds a towel out that I help Grey wrap around his waist.

  “What the fuck,” Dutch says to him. “Why don’t you shift back and heal? Old man’s gone. Coast is clear.”

  “I can’t,” Grey says flatly.

  We make it to the kitchen as the others appear. Ramsey, Razor, Mia—even Crow is suddenly back. They all stare at Grey, dumbfounded by his answer.

  “What do you mean you can’t?” Razor demands.

  “I mean my wolf isn’t available,” Grey says.

  “He blocked your wolf, didn’t he?” Mia asks.

  Grey grunts, and they all stare at him with varying masks of horror and rage.

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “How is it possible that someone else can keep you from shifting?”

  “An alpha is the only one of us who has the power to take away that ability,” Crow says quietly when no one else speaks up.

  “None of them has actually fucking done it,” Dutch growls.

  “Not even Franco’s that evil,” Ramsey says.

  “No one’s that evil,” Grey replies.

  “Vincenzo’s a son of a bitch,” Razor says, punching his palm with his fist. “He deserves—”

  “We’re still standing in his house,” Mia points out, cutting him off with a pointed look.

  Razor mumbles but doesn’t argue. I glance around, worried Vincenzo is somehow still listening, but there’s no sign of cameras. Clearly, they’re paranoid for a reason though.

  “If he can’t shift, he can’t heal,” Ramsey says grimly.

  No one says anything to that.

  I bite my tongue, not wanting to distract further with my questions. “He needs a hospital,” I say instead.

  That gets them on the same page instantly.

  “Hell no,” Grey growls at the same time they all echo his sentiment.

  “We can’t,” Mia says more gently than the others.

  “Do you see his wounds?” I demand. “He needs stitches.”

  “Hospitals will ask questions,” she tells me.

  “And? Aren’t all the doctors in your pocket or something?”

  “Not all of them,” she says, “And that doesn’t help us anyway. They’ll see Vincenzo’s attack on Grey a clear casting of blame for the mess at Franco’s earlier. They’ll see it as disloyalty and conflict within the family. Best case, it sends more votes Franco’s way. Worst case, it turns them against Grey entirely, and they try to put him down for what they perceive as a crime against both Vincenzo and Franco.”

  “They’ll see him as a traitor,” Dutch adds grimly.

  “Vincenzo deserves to be charged for this,” I say, refusing to back down. How can they just stand here and let it go?

  “He wouldn’t be,” Mia says sadly.

  Maybe it’s the worry coming through her words rather than raw fury like the others, but I believe her that taking Grey to a hospital will only make things worse politically. Doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods physically though.

  “Fine then. Do you at least have a First Aid kit?”

  “Last bedroom on the left,” Grey says. “Master bathroom.”

  “Come on.”

  With my support, we head that way. None of the others follow, and I don’t know if it’s their rage needing a cooling-off period or if they simply trust me to handle this. Several times, I’ve been the one to patch kids up at the shelter when they’ve gotten hurt living on the street, but I don’t have any experience patching up wounds quite this bad.

  With my arm still around Grey’s waist, I lead us back into a large bedroom with enough white and neutral tones that I wince at the stains left by his dirty, blood-streaked footprints.

  He doesn’t even seem to notice them.

  In the bathroom, Grey perches on the wide edge of a jacuzzi tub ringed in marble. His handprint leaves smudges of blood that have my throat closing in guilt and worry. The ink on his arms is smudged with dirt and blood, obscuring most of the design, but up close I can finally see that’s a beautifully intricate pattern of lines and symbols. For a moment, I blink at him, forgetting what we came in here for.

  His voice brings me back.

  “Down there.”

  He points at the cabinet beneath the sink, and I rummage through until I find the First Aid kit. The longer it takes, the more frantic I become. Fumbling for bandages and ointment, I nearly drop them all, thanks to my trembling fingers.

  “Lexi.” Grey’s voice, though gentle, is sharp enough to make me still as I look up. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  For some reason, his reassurance pisses me off.

  “You’re not okay,” I say hotly as I go back to ripping the bandages open harder than necessary. “What your father just did to you is barbaric.”

  “Well then, it fits since that’s what we are.”

  “You’re wolves. That doesn’t mean you have to be inhumane.”

  He looks up at me, his expression twisting sardonically. “To be humane, you’d have to be an actual human first.”

  “Are you really arguing semantics while you bleed out into your father’s bathtub?”

  He glances over to see his blood trailing into the white porcelain. “This is my tub,” he says, which is the least of any problems I’ve pointed out.

  I roll my eyes and step closer, ready with the alcohol and gauze. He looks at me, and I don’t bother trying to sugarcoat anything.

  “This is going to hurt,” I tell him quietly.

  “I’m already hurt,” he mutters.

  The moment I press the alcohol-soaked pad against his skin, his whole body jerks. “Fuck,” he says loudly.

  “I told you,” I mutter.

  He goes silent, and I look up to see him giving me a wry look. “Your bedside manner is a little rough around the edges, nurse.”

  “Maybe it’s because my patient is a stubborn wiseass.”

  His lips twitch. “Maybe.”

  I move to the next gash along his shoulder and pause there. “Ready?”

  “Do it.”

  He lets loose another sharp hiss but without the cursing. I do it twice more, relieved to see the gashes aren’t bleeding as much as they were before.

  “Maybe your wolf healing is helping you after all,” I say.

  He looks down at the gash on his leg with a frown. “I’ve been trying to force it to come back to me since that asshole left, but I think this is as good as it’ll get.”

  “I can bandage these with gauze, but that’s as good as I can get, too,” I tell him as I start bandaging and taping everything up.

  When I’m done, I toss all the trash and stand. Grey stands too, and the towel he had draped over his lap falls to the floor. Now that he’s not bleeding out, I can’t help but notice the perfectly shaped V that points like an arrow to his very impressive cock.

  He doesn’t move to cover himself either. Instead, he simply waits, watching me as I drink him in.

  My breath catches.

  This isn’t about bandages anymore.

  This is Grey wanting me to see him.

  Dragging my gaze back to his, I note the heavy-lidded stare he gives me, and my core tightens with how much I want to feel him touch me.

  “You like what you see, princess?” he asks.

  My heart hammers in my chest, and I have to force the words from my suddenly dry mouth. “Yes.”

  “Come here.”

  He reaches for me, grabbing my arm and pulling me against his bare chest before I can argue. Not that I will. If I’m being honest, which I’ve spent days trying not to be, I’ve wanted this since the moment I found him waiting for me in the VIP room at Shady’s.

  From the moment I agreed to that lap dance and lowered my body over his on that couch, I’ve been waiting to finish this. The way our bodies fit together feels like some missing piece has been found. The way he touches me now only makes my wanting him more agonizing than ever.

  In this moment, he’s not my enemy. Or, if he is, I no longer care. Not so long as he puts his hands on me and finishes what we started in that back room.