Marriage.

  To a Giovanni?

  He can go fuck himself.

  Unfortunately, I know him well enough to know, if I refuse, he’ll just find someone else who’ll go along with his crazy, fucked up plan. His threat about killing me is empty. He knows it and I know it. He’ll torture me, make me wish I was dead, but he won’t kill me.

  The real threat is what he’ll do to Lexi. I don’t need my wolf’s sixth sense to know he’s already realized I care what happens to her.

  The moment I stepped between them earlier, I gave away my weakness, and the game has barely even started.

  I take another drink, staring blindly at the twinkling lights of the city I once called home. Indigo Hills isn’t a bad place for most of its residents. Whatever monster he might be personally, Franco at least sees to that. The economy is thriving, employment is up, and the community is tight-knit. Or it has been until recently.

  Something is happening behind the scenes, and no one knows what. All we know for sure is that things have started to slip. First, a business owner got roughed up for not paying enough “taxes” to his “local representative.” Then, four elementary schools lost their funding for their music and arts programs. An audit of the city planner’s office showed that the budget was reallocated to the Giovanni Foundation, which is Franco’s smokescreen for discretionary spending on himself and his hired men.

  It's bullshit. And it’s exactly the kind of thing I’ve always wanted to stop in this town. I only ever walked away because Franco finally seemed to settle into something resembling decent. For the last few years, he at least did a better job than my old man would have, and that’s enough for me.

  Now, that’s no longer true, and something has to be done.

  Unfortunately, something has become a someone.

  After twenty years as Giovanni’s biggest rival, my father is perfectly poised to do what no one else has ever attempted. He’s going to unseat the alpha of the mafia pack and put himself on that throne instead. Using Lexi to do it is just a practical means to an end. Or it was until I met her.

  Now that I have, I’m not sure I can let one monster replace another. Not if it means hurting her in the process. For reasons I can’t understand, my wolf won’t allow it, and I’m not sure there’s any difference between him and me on this one.

  My phone vibrates, and I see Dutch’s name on the screen.

  “What?” I answer.

  “We found Trucker.”

  “It’s late, bro. You couldn’t call me in the morning to tell me that?”

  “We found him with a girl. Maybe sixteen?”

  “Dammit.” Anger heats my blood, and the need to punch that asshole myself makes my knuckles ache. “Is she okay?”

  “She will be. Could use a softer touch than Razor and Crow, though.”

  I sigh because I know who he wants me to call. “Where’s Mia now?”

  “Not answering her phone,” he says, clearly annoyed.

  I sigh again. “Did he at least give you any details on what he’s fed Franco?”

  His voice drops low. “He says he’ll only talk to the princess herself.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say. “Now?”

  “That’s what he says. We’re at the cargo dump. You want me to stay put?”

  “Yeah, keep him there. I’m on my way.”

  I hang up and toss back the rest of my drink. This town is going to be the death of me yet.

  13

  LEXI

  I sleep with a chair wedged beneath the knob of my bedroom door. Okay, not so much sleep as lie in the dark, trying to make myself relax. It doesn’t come easily, thanks to my racing thoughts. After all that’s happened, I don’t know whether to be more scared of the mafia head that never wanted me in the first place or the monster of a man trying to force me to marry his son so he can take power.

  Two days ago, my biggest worry was earning enough money for rent while somehow not selling my soul in exchange. Now, I’d gladly sell my soul if it means not signing my body over to a man whose worst nightmare is being tied to me forever.

  My heart squeezes as I imagine a life with the man sleeping across the hall from me. He’s not quite the monster his father is—or at least, I haven’t seen that side of him yet. But I can’t let myself forget that, at the end of the day, he’s my enemy.

  If I’m going to survive this, I need to remember that and stop looking for proof he’s the nice guy when all the evidence I have says otherwise.

  Hours later, I’m just drifting off when a noise jolts me awake again. It’s a soft chime, but in the stillness, it echoes, rattling my nerves. I sit up, listening intently as the chime comes again then abruptly cuts short.

  Grey’s voice is muffled through the walls. I hear him, but I can’t make out the words.

  Sliding out of bed, I pad to my door and pull the chair out of the way. Easing the door open, I step into the hall and hover at his door, straining to listen.

  “…got to be fucking kidding me,” he growls. “Now?”

  There’s a pause and a snort, and I realize the chime I heard must have been his phone because whoever he’s talking to is clearly not in the room with him.

  “Yeah, keep him there. I’m on my way.”

  His response sends me scooting backward, but a second later, his bedroom door flies open. Grey frowns at the sight of me, and I regret putting on the large shirt and oversized shorts he gave me to sleep in. It’s the only change of clothes I’ve been provided, and they smell like him, which only makes it worse. But the only other option was sleeping in the clothes I came here in, which are beyond gross at this point.

  “What are you doing up?” he asks.

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  He brushes past me. “Just as well,” he says over his shoulder as he starts down the hall toward the kitchen. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

  I glare at his retreating back. “I am dressed,” I say dryly, “Since I currently only own the clothes I arrived in and they’re gross.”

  He stops and turns back, blinking as if he’s only just now realized this fact.

  I cross my arms.

  “Wait here.”

  He disappears into his bedroom and returns a moment later with a pair of sweatpants.

  “Put these on.”

  “No.”

  His jaw tightens. “We don’t have time for this. Put them on, and let’s go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

  He hisses out a breath between clenched teeth. “There was supposed to be a supply delivery before you arrived, but it was delayed. I’ll have some clothes brought in for you soon. For now, I need you to wear these or put your own clothes back on.”

  Without waiting for my response, he disappears around the corner toward the living room, and I follow, fully intending on arguing further. He might have kidnapped me, but I refuse to comply with his every wish. I round the corner just in time to see him emerge from a storage closet near the elevator. He’s lifted his shirt, revealing abs that make my mouth go suddenly dry so he can tuck a gun into a holster he’s strapped across his ribs.

  He looks up, and I realize I’ve just been caught staring.

  Swallowing hard, I look away. “What’s that for?”

  “Hopefully nothing.” He stares at me. “Put on the pants, Lexi.”

  I lift my chin. “No, thanks. I’ll wear this.”

  He stares at me for a long moment then turns for the elevator. “Fine.”

  He pushes the call button. The door opens, and he looks back at me pointedly.

  “Get in.”

  I cross my arms. “No.”

  He glares at me, but I don’t move. Fuck him and his orders. As much as I want out of this tower, I’m not sure where we’re going is any safer.

  “Lexi,” he warns, but I shake my head.

  “I’m not going to let you order me—”

  He closes the distance and grabs me, slinging me over his shoulder before I can get away. I shriek, pounding my fists against his back as he carries me onto the elevator.

  “Let me go!”

  He sets me on my feet, and I immediately lunge for the exit, but he blocks me, caging me in. Behind him, the elevator doors slide shut, and we begin to descend.

  “You can come willingly, or I can tie you up and put you in the damned trunk again. The choice is yours.”

  My heart races, and I’m suddenly very aware of our closeness—and the fact that I’m not wearing a bra beneath this thin shirt. My nipples harden, and I glance from his fiery glare to his full mouth hovering mere inches from mine.

  “Lexi.”

  The sound of him speaking my name sends a shudder through me. When I look up at him again, his eyes flash with something different than the fury I saw a moment ago. It reminds me of the way he watched me when I danced for him. For some reason, it’s enough to break the spell.

  I clear my throat, looking away from him so I can get my bearings.

  “Fine. I’ll go.”

  He hesitates another moment and then, apparently satisfied, steps back. I cross my arms, partly from stubbornness and partly to hide the fact that my body clearly doesn’t understand the situation. Every square inch of my skin tingles even though every brain cell in my head screams at it to cut that shit out.

  We finish the descent in silence.

  Now that he’s not crowding me, I remember the gun he strapped to his body before we left. Immediately, my mind begins to conjure all the possible reasons a deadly wolf shifter might also need a gun. Or why we’re going out at three in the morning in the first place. Maybe they’ve decided against using me and are skipping right to the part where they get rid of me entirely. I try to shut out the images, but my brain is on a roll, and I can’t shake the idea that certain death awaits me.

  Grey takes my arm as the elevator opens to the parking garage. I don’t fight him, but my steps are slow as I let him lead me out. Cool air hits me first. Then I catch sight of the two guards posted nearby, and I regret my clothing choice—not that I’ll let myself admit that now. Grey ignores the men as he leads me toward his car and opens the front passenger door.

  He gestures at me. “Get in.”

  “I get to ride up front this time?”

  “You prefer the trunk?”

  I sigh and get in.

  He comes around and slides into the driver’s seat, the leather crunching as he settles in. The interior is cool, and I rub my arms against the late-night chill.

  “Cold?” he asks.

  I don’t answer.

  He starts the car and immediately reaches over, turning up the heat and aiming all the vents at me. Then, he backs us out of the space and cruises toward the gated exit.

  Outside the garage, the city is quiet. There are very few cars on the road, and again I’m struck by how peaceful the city feels at this hour. An illusion, I remind myself. All the bad guys are doing their evil deeds at home rather than on the street.

  Glancing over at Grey’s set jaw and tense shoulders, I realize all but one is home.

  When we stop at a red light, I eye the door handle, calculating how far I’d get if I made a run for it.

  “This town is full of shifters, and all the humans know.”

  His words startle me out of my crazy planning. I look over, and the minute our eyes meet, I know he’s read my thoughts.

  “Why are you telling me that?” I ask.

  “Because, as a human, I’m faster than you, but as a wolf, there’s nowhere you can hide that I won’t track you.”

  “It’s dark as shit out there. How can you track me if you don’t see me?” I challenge.

  His voice is husky as he says, “I’d know your scent anywhere in the world.”

  I swallow hard and fix my gaze straight ahead. “Whatever.”

  The light turns green, and he guns it, propelling us onward.

  A series of turns lands us in what looks like an industrial area. Warehouses surrounded by chain link fences capped in barbed wire line the back roads where we wind our way along. Finally, Grey pulls in at one of them. The guard house is empty, so we blow past it and come to a stop before a bay door that’s pulled shut.

  The minute he parks, the warehouse’s side door opens, and a male figure swathed in shadows motions for Grey to hurry up.

  He climbs out and hurries around to my side of the car, yanking my door open impatiently.

  “Come on.”

  “I’d rather wait here.”

  “Not happening.”

  “I don’t have shoes.”

  He glances at my socked feet. “Your choice,” he reminds me.

  Asshole.

  I climb out, my heart thudding as he takes my arm and pulls me toward the door where the stranger waits. The only thing I can tell from here is that it’s not Vincenzo. More scenarios run through my mind, each one worse than the last. Maybe Grey’s rejecting his dad’s offer to marry me by having me killed off in secret. Maybe he got tired of keeping me at the apartment, so this is my new prison and new guard. Or maybe he’s selling me to the highest bidder of his enemies. Either way, nothing good can come of me stepping foot in a warehouse with two men at three a.m.

  But before I know it, I’m through the doorway and standing before a tall, lanky male with wavy brown hair whose eyes flash with the promise of violence. My pulse speeds, making me wonder exactly who that violence is meant for.

  “Hey, boss,” he greets Grey.

  “Where’s the douchebag?” Grey demands.

  “This way.” The stranger leads the way, and their footsteps echo over concrete floors as we start down an empty hall. “What’s she doing here?” he asks over his shoulder.

  “I can’t leave her alone.”

  “Not like she can get out of the tower,” the guy points out.

  “No, but my father can get in.”

  “Damn, the old man’s being a pain already, huh.”

  “He can’t help himself,” Grey says.

  The stranger snorts. “Sounds about right. Here we are.”

  He stops before a door and gestures with a nod. “You ready?”

  “Just open the damn door,” Grey mutters.

  The stranger does as he asks then steps back. Grey lets me go and walks inside. I hesitate, but the sharp-eyed stranger is right behind me, pressing in close enough to send me shuffling forward.

  The room is lit by a single work lamp someone’s brought in and plugged into an extension cord in the far corner. I’m surprised to see three others already waiting inside.

  Two more men stand along the wall to my right. One is tall with cropped, dark hair, deep brown eyes, and defined biceps. The other is shorter with longer hair that hangs in his eyes, though there’s a definite resemblance between them.

  “Razor. Crow,” Grey greets.

  “Brother,” the taller, more muscled of the two returns.

  The second is silent.

  Grey ignores the fourth figure but I can’t help but stare. A girl, fifteen, maybe sixteen, huddles in the corner on the other side of the two men. Her shirt is torn open, and she holds her arms crossed over her chest to cover herself. She meets my eyes, and the fear that rolls off her is unmistakable. I look from her to the two guys standing between us, and my eyes narrow.

  Without waiting for instructions, I shove past the two guys and walk up to the scared girl.

  “Hey,” I say softly.

  Her eyes widen at the sight of me, but she holds her ground as she returns, “Hey,” in a small voice.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask.

  She shakes her head.

  I exhale. “Who did this to you?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer, but her eyes dart over my shoulder. I turn and follow the direction of her glance. Nearly obscured by shadows, I spot another figure in the far corner of the room.

  Blinking through the grainy half-light, I see that an older man sits on the dirty concrete, his head hanging, his long hair obscuring his face. Blood and saliva drip from his mouth. I hadn’t even noticed him at first with the way he’s hunched over and out of the reach of the lamp’s light.

  “He did this?” I ask the girl.

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  At her reply, the man raises his head and looks up at us through swollen, bruised lids. His lip curls at the sight of Grey, but then his eyes land on me, and something sparks.

  “Well, what do we have here?” The words are muffled by what sounds like a swollen lip. “Royalty has arrived. Now it’s a party.”

  “It’s your fucking funeral, Trucker.” Grey’s voice is colder than I’ve ever heard. Beside me, the girl flinches. I step closer to her and whisper, “It’s going to be all right,” despite the fact that I’m just as fucked as she is. I haven’t been roughed up, but I’m still a prisoner here.

  She doesn’t know that, though, and right now, I want only to make her feel safe. My chest pangs at how much she reminds me of one of the shelter teens—and how I might never see any of them again.

  “Did she give her statement?” Grey asks, bringing me back to the present nightmare.

  “She did,” his friend confirms. The lanky one who walked us in here glances over at me as he says it. Our eyes meet, and I see curiosity reflected back at me. But not confusion. He clearly knows who I am. In fact, I get the sense that everyone in this room knows more about me than I do—except the girl.

  Cautiously, I slide my hand into hers. She wraps her cold fingers around mine instantly, and I feel a rush of protection toward her.

  “That girl doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Trucker says, eyes narrowing as Grey and his friends discuss what to do about the girl.

  “What’s your name?” I whisper.

  “Claire.”

  I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m Lexi. It’s going to be okay.”

  “You’re Lexi?” She stares at me with shock and a definite layer of fear that wasn’t there a moment ago.