I stiffen.

  Across the room, the injured man, Trucker, snorts. “The princess has returned.” When I look over at him, he’s staring right at me. “Bet you didn’t expect such a warm welcome.” His wink ruffles me more than I want to admit.

  “What are we doing here?” I snap at Grey. “He clearly attacked her. She shouldn’t have to be subjected to standing in the same room as him for another second.”

  Grey turns back to the old man. “You got what you wanted. Now, say what you have to say so judgment can be delivered.”

  “Not until she comes closer,” he says, “I need to look into her eyes and know that it’s her.”

  I hesitate, but Grey, looking pissed enough to murder, waves me forward. I let go of Claire’s hand and reluctantly step forward until I’m standing beside Grey.

  “That’s far enough,” he says, his warm shoulder brushing mine.

  It’s comforting, knowing he’s right here with me, which is beyond stupid. The enemy of my enemy does not make him my friend.

  “What am I—” I begin, but Grey cuts me off.

  “This asshole’s been feeding information to Franco,” he explains. “He claims he has information for you that he’d only deliver face to face.”

  “What information?” I ask.

  Grey gives the man a pointed look. “Spill it.”

  “You don’t look like an heir to an empire,” he says to me.

  And even though I couldn’t agree more, his words make me feel inadequate and embarrassed.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I really care about the predator vote,” I tell him.

  He laughs—or tries to, it turns quickly into a cough that spews more blood and saliva down his chin.

  I resist the urge to step back.

  “Ah, you’re a Giovanni after all, I see.”

  I don’t answer.

  “The old man never wanted it this way, you know.”

  I stiffen. “So, giving me up for adoption and never coming to find me or tell me I had family was an accident?”

  “He was protecting you.”

  “From what?” I ask.

  I have no idea if this guy is speaking the truth, but with so little information to go on, I’ll take whatever scrap I can get. Even from a stranger in a warehouse in the middle of the night.

  “What the hell do you even know about Franco’s intentions?” Grey’s friend demands. “You’re a sewer rat. A fucking traitor. You can’t possibly know what Franco wants.”

  “As a matter of fact, Franco invited me to have a seat at the table,” Trucker says. “He believes those of us who’ve put in our time should get something in return, which is more than I can say for what this family’s given me.”

  “We’ve given you a life, a home, protection.” Grey’s expression hardens. “More protection than you deserve, considering what you were trying to do to that girl.”

  Claire sniffles, and my heart squeezes with what she’s been through. With that in mind, I suddenly trust this asshole’s information a lot less.

  “Grey,” I say quietly, hugging my hands to my arms. His gaze snaps to mine. I glance back at the girl still cowering in the corner. “Can we go?”

  “Yeah,” he says with a sharp nod. “This was a waste of time. Sorry for dragging you out—”

  “Shit. She tells you to jump, and you’re already asking how high.” Trucker snickers. “Looks like you finally went and got yourself a real boss to run this shitshow.”

  Grey glares at him. “You already got more than you deserve from me tonight.”

  Trucker’s lip curls as he looks at me again. “You’ve already gone to their side.” He clucks his tongue. “A damn shame too. Your old man would’ve welcomed you with open arms. You could have been on the winning side of this fucking war right along with the rest of us. But now… you’re fucking worthless to him. The only thing you’re good for is securing me my rightful fucking seat at his table.”

  A ripple of unease runs through me. How can I secure his seat with Franco?

  Before I can ask, he springs to his feet. My shock sends me reeling backward as he transforms into a wolf and lunges—not at Grey but at me.

  “Run!” Grey’s command is swallowed by the attacking wolf’s snarl that echoes off the concrete.

  I turn and race for the door then veer toward the wall to avoid getting tackled as the angry wolf attempts to head me off.

  Grey’s friends surround me and Claire, shoving us back against the wall and screaming at us to get out. I make sure Claire goes first and then stumble sideways to avoid getting smashed.

  On the far side of the room, Grey shifts, his human body transforming into an enormous wolf in less than a blink. The sight of it distracts me, and I barely avoid getting cut to ribbons by Trucker’s claws before I’m yanked out of the way just in time. But the angry wolf is already coming again, and Grey’s snapping teeth are barely holding him back.

  In the next second, whoever’s holding my arm releases his grip, and I tumble toward the floor, knowing with startling clarity that it won’t be fast enough or far enough to avoid the attack that’s coming.

  Behind me, someone yells, and then, as my body slams into the concrete floor, an ear-splitting howl rings out and then goes abruptly silent. I wince, curling into a ball on the cold floor as I wait for sharp teeth to sink into my flesh.

  Instead, hands grasp my shoulders, and I snap, swinging out and thrashing against my attacker.

  “Whoa.”

  Through my hair covering my eyes, I see Grey’s lanky friend trying to help me up. I shove him back, scratching at his wrists until he gives up and backs away.

  Then, Grey is there, dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts, reaching down and pulling me up with an iron grip that no amount of fighting will loosen. He crushes me to his chest in an embrace that feels a lot like relief.

  “You okay?” he asks, the words still muffled in my ears.

  I don’t answer.

  “Did he hurt you?” he presses, releasing me far enough to look into my eyes.

  I glare up at him, fear and shock and confusion whirling into a rage that has me balling up my fists and preparing to aim them at his face. It’s so much—Claire and Trucker and the wolf and nearly being killed. I can’t process it fast enough, and nothing makes sense.

  Grey watches me with enough worry to make me believe he actually cares about whether I live or die—but that’s wrong. It has to be wrong.

  Nothing about this night is right.

  Then he moves, and I catch sight of the body on the floor beside him.

  The man—Trucker—is back in human form. Naked, facedown, and coated in his own blood. If there’s a wound, I can’t even see it through the layers of blood and grime.

  My stomach rolls, and I look away.

  That man died tonight… because he tried to kill me. Grey killed him to protect me.

  My confusion wins out just as a warm hand lands on my shoulder.

  “Lexi.” Grey’s voice is gentle, but after the point-blank murder he just committed, I don’t care how nice he talks to me.

  I don’t care about him at all.

  He was protecting me. But it doesn’t change what he did. Who he is.

  Does it?

  The confusion pisses me off, and I’m left with only my anger to protect me. So, I use it. I funnel it all into hating the man whose fault it is I’m here at all.

  “Take me away from here,” I demand. “Take us,” I correct icily, glancing back at Claire, who is trembling while silent tears track down her cheeks.

  She looks like I feel.

  I grab her hand and pull her close.

  Her skin is cold, but she doesn’t fight me holding onto her. If anything, she tucks herself in tighter against me.

  Grey looks from her to me and nods then leads us out of the room. His friends part to let us pass. No one speaks though they cast me heavy looks that I resolutely ignore.

  Fuck them.

  Fuck this whole crazy-ass city full of violence.

  The guy who met us at the door earlier follows us back out again. The other two stay behind, and I refuse to let myself think about what they’ll do with Trucker’s body.

  At the exit, Grey stops long enough to tell his friend, “Clean this up, and come by when you’re done.”

  “And your dad?”

  Grey frowns. “What if I said it’s none of his business.”

  The guy shrugs. “Then it’s not.”

  Grey nods. “See you soon.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Grey snaps.

  The guy smirks then turns and disappears back inside.

  Still scowling, Grey unlocks the car and opens the back passenger door. Ushering Claire in first, I slide in behind her.

  Grey closes the door behind us, but I don’t speak. Not even when he climbs in behind the wheel and turns the car on, blasting the heat and aiming the vents at Claire shivering beside me. I can’t bring myself to acknowledge his gentlemanly gesture. There’s nothing gentle about him, no matter how much he pretends. He’s a killer and a kidnapper and a mafia prince. I can’t let myself forget that ever again. Even if he just chose to save me rather than throw me to the wolves.

  14

  LEXI

  Claire doesn’t speak on the ride back into the city. I hold her hand in mine, noting how cold she is, but even then, she doesn’t say a word. I bite my lip, debating whether to press her for answers, but my mind is too busy demanding answers of my own. Rather than replay the scene in that warehouse, I focus on the fact that these men are capable of shifting into wolves. And, if Grey’s claims about me are true, so am I. It’s terrifying to think about, but I can’t help wishing for it anyway. If I were a wolf, I could fight my way free. But it’s not like I can ask my captor for answers when giving them would mean giving me the upper hand.

  Grey pulls to the curb out front of a fancy high-rise apartment building, not unlike his own.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “Meeting a friend.” Grey’s eyes flick to Claire in the rearview. “Someone who can help her get home.”

  “Home?” I shake my head. “She needs a hospital.”

  His gaze snaps to mine. “That’s not how it’s done.”

  “Well, where I’m from, when a girl’s attacked, she deserves—”

  “What?” he snaps, eyes shooting daggers at me. “Justice? Isn’t that what she just got?”

  I hesitate. “Medical attention,” I say, my tone icy.

  “She’ll have what she needs,” he says cryptically, and I follow the direction of his glance through the window where a figure peels off from the shadows and approaches the car.

  I tense as the figure bends and opens Claire’s car door. A woman, not much older than me, with riotous red hair peers in at us. She tosses Grey a shirt that he quickly pulls on. Then she looks at us in the backseat.

  Beside me, Claire grabs my arm with her free hand, clinging tightly.

  “What—” I begin, alarmed.

  “Relax. This is Mia. She’s going to help.” He turns back to look at Claire pressed against his backseat. “Mia is Reyes’ daughter. She’s part of my squad, and she’s going to keep you safe,” he tells her. “Okay?”

  Mia doesn’t say a word as she waits with the door held open. She flicks a curious glance at me but otherwise seems as if this whole thing is just another Tuesday night. Maybe for her, it is.

  My earlier resolve to see this girl to the hospital is slipping away. Something about the smooth transition he’s offering tells me this isn’t the first late-night rescue he’s made in this city, and the idea of it throws me off balance. Suddenly, he’s not the evil I’m fighting against.

  Just like he’s not the one to blame for what happened at the warehouse.

  Before I can think of a reason to stop her, Claire whispers, “Okay,” and slides out of the car to join Mia on the sidewalk. She looks over her shoulder at me and says, “Thanks.”

  “Sure,” I mumble as Mia shuts the door.

  On the sidewalk, Mia wraps an arm around her and whisks her into the front door of the apartment building.

  When they’re gone, I face forward again and find Grey watching me from the rearview mirror.

  “Want to come up front?” he asks.

  I shake my head, and he peels smoothly away from the curb without another word. The entire drive back is a mental tug of war with myself as I try to reconcile the two halves of the man before me. He’s twisted enough to kidnap me and drop me into the middle of a war, and yet tonight, when he could have stepped aside and let me die, he saved me. And then he saved Claire.

  At least, I assume that’s what the Mia woman will do.

  I still have no idea who the good guys are here. So far, no one’s proven themselves good. It’s more like opposing forces of evil trying to one-up each other on just how corrupt they can be.

  Back in the penthouse, Grey drops his car keys onto a tray by the door. My eyes track the motion—not that it matters since there’s no way out of here for me—as the elevator door seals shut behind us.

  Despite the softness of the sound, there’s a finality to it.

  I begin to tremble.

  “That shouldn’t have happened,” Grey says to me.

  I turn, struggling to keep my emotions in check. “No,” I agree, “It shouldn’t have.”

  The trembling only gets worse as he steps closer to me. I try to call up my earlier anger. It’s so much easier to hate him than to let him see my fear.

  But his hard expression has lost its granite coating. Now, I can see the exhaustion hovering behind his dark gaze. “If I thought for a second…” He runs a hand through his tousled hair. I wonder what it would feel like if I did the same thing. Burying my hands in his hair, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, mouth—

  “I never would have brought you in there if I knew he was going to come after you like that.”

  “Right. Because you’re so worried about my safety.” I snort and turn for the hallway so he won’t see how distracted I am.

  “I fucking saved your ass tonight,” he snaps, and I stiffen. “So, yeah, I think we can both agree your safety matters to me.”

  I turn back, my eyes narrowing. “You kidnapped me, injected me with drugs, and brought me into a city where half the population wants to kill me simply based on which family I was born into. A family I never knew existed before you dropped me into the middle of this shitstorm. Without you, I could have lived my entire life in blissful ignorance, so if you’re looking for gratitude, you’re not going to find it with me.”

  “I told you—”

  “And on top of ruining my life as I knew it, you walked me into some kind of gang execution tonight and made me watch you kill a man at point-blank range. You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you consider my safety a priority.”

  “He was going to hurt you,” he says, his voice dipping dangerously low.

  He’s pissed.

  Join the club, buddy.

  “You mean like you hurt me,” I retort.

  His eyes flash, and he stalks closer until he’s standing right in front of me. I force myself to remain where I am even though everything in me wants to back away, to get a little more breathing room. To remind myself how much I’m supposed to hate the idea of him backing me against this wall and touching me until I lose all common sense.

  “I have done nothing but protect you from the moment we met,” he says.

  “Bullshit,” I snap.

  His voice rises as he says, “I protected you from Trucker tonight, whether you choose to believe that or not. Hell, I even protected you from my own father—”

  “And who’s going to protect me from you?”

  His gaze is dark, the storm in his eyes full of thunder crashing. “I’m not going to hurt you, Lexi.”

  “You already have.”

  The words are out before I can stop them. It’s the most honest, vulnerable thing I’ve said, and I hate that I’ve let it slip.

  “This is about the lap dance.” The anger melts away, and in its place is a predatory sort of triumph that makes my skin heat. I’d rather have the anger. At least then, I’d have some semblance of control over this thing between us.

  “That dance didn’t mean shit,” I lie.

  I’d fold my arms over my chest, but he’s standing so close my forearm brushes his shirt.

  Dammit.

  When did he get this close?

  I drop my arms again, fisting my hands at my sides as I struggle to breathe, but every inhale is full of him.

  He cocks his head. “Didn’t it?”

  Even as I hate myself for it, I can feel a flush creeping into my cheeks. “Why did you make me do it?” I whisper.

  He glances at my mouth then back up again. “I didn’t make you do anything.”

  My back hits the wall. I didn’t even realize I’d retreated, but it doesn’t matter because he’s crowding in already, stealing all the oxygen between us. All the power and control. Just like that first night. I’m helpless to stop him. To stop falling.

  “You know what I mean,” I say, breathless because I refuse to breathe him in anymore.

  He studies me, and I bite my lip, every nerve ending in my body tuned to him now. His head dips lower, and in that moment, I know he’s going to kiss me. And damn if I don’t actually want him to.

  But I can’t let myself fall into the same trap I did that first night.

  Not again.

  Not when he’s used it against me every step of the way.

  So, I steel myself against how badly I want him and wait.

  The moment his lips brush over mine, I allow myself a shudder of pleasure, and then I whisper against his mouth, “I’ll agree to your father’s terms on one condition.”

  He pulls away, and I ignore how much I hate his retreat. His eyes blaze down at me before his careful mask slips into place.

  “And what is that?”

  “I want a meeting with my grandfather. In person.”

  He frowns. “Meeting Franco’s a bad idea. Especially after tonight.”

  “You seem pretty good at bad ideas to me.”

  He scowls. “I’m serious, Lexi. Trucker clearly had orders to kill you. Who the hell do you think it came from?”