Page 61 of Deadly Wolf Bite

In fact, Vincenzo Diavolo is clear-eyed and smiling as he greets the attendees on their way past the casket. His dark suit is spotless, and his eyes have never been drier. The only sign that he’s acknowledging the high stakes is the security detail he arrived with. At least six men escorted him inside. They’ve positioned themselves near where he stands now, trying—and failing—to blend in. Anytime anyone makes a sudden movement, one of them gets up and shoves them back until my father clears the person to pass.

Even Ramsey was blocked from approaching.

Ramsey’s prediction that he’ll be welcomed as a general was naïve. He spent the last two days drinking himself into oblivion while his aunt Sylvia made the arrangements for today’s service. The fact that he couldn’t pull himself together hasn’t gone unnoticed by the pack leaders.

Tucked into the fourth row, Dutch sits on my left. Razor and Mia are in the back somewhere, keeping an eye on the room and all the players in it. Crow’s on standby at Mia’s penthouse in case shit hits the fan. He wouldn’t be welcome here, and we can’t afford to piss off the generals—not today.

Lexi’s on my right. She’s quiet, taking it all in. The last two days have been a whirlwind of making plans for this party and talking through all the ways tonight could go wrong.

I hate involving Lexi.

She shouldn’t be exposed to any more danger than she already is, but I also can’t leave her alone. After hacking the phone company, Dutch traced the IP using cell towers and a bunch of shit I don’t understand to prove Dom was the one who texted me pretending to be my father. He clearly wanted Lexi to witness what happened to Anthony. Or maybe he wanted to show me he can get to her—and me. Either way, I’m not going to let him fuck with her again.

Franco and his people walk in just as the organ begins to play.

The rest of the guests hurry to take their seats, but Franco ambles. There’s no other word for it. He makes his way to the front so slowly that the organ’s song ends, pauses, then begins again. Dom and the other generals trail him, the former winking at Lexi as he passes our row.

She stiffens beside me, relaxing only a little when he finally turns back to his own people again. They all settle in the front row across the aisle from Ramsey and Sylvia. In the second row, my father’s men look over at Franco’s people.

The generals all nod stiffly at one another.

The two alphas don’t even make eye contact.

Dom makes it a point to look over at the casket then shake his head as if to say the deceased brought this on himself.

Fucker.

I stare at his profile as if my eyes could burn a hole through his temple. My hands curl into fists as rage courses through me. All I can think about is how he put his hands on Lexi. Touched her without her permission—and without mine.

My wolf wants vengeance.

Don’t be reckless.

I can practically hear Dutch’s voice in my head. It was a hell of a lot easier to agree with that sentiment before he smiled at me while Anthony Greco was shot in the head. Now, I’m not sure I can commit to that kind of self-control.

As if he knows what I’m battling, Dutch bumps his shoulder into mine. I tear my gaze away from Dom and glance at my second. He shakes his head subtly.

I scowl.

On my other side, Lexi covers my fist with her hand, her soft fingers brushing over my knuckles.

Instantly, the contact relaxes me.

My eyes catch on the glittering diamond ring. Underneath it, she still wears the twist-tie I gave her. My heart warms at the sight of it. I can’t deny that I enjoy the way it marks her. The way my wolf wishes he could mark her. Claim her. At least this way, the world knows she’s mine.

I exhale and look over at her.

In her green-eyed gaze, I find an anchor.

Around us, the organ’s song builds, sweeping and sad. In this moment, it feels like a soundtrack to our inevitable end.

We’re rushing toward it, faster and faster every day.

The song finishes for a second time.

I look away from Lexi and up to the dais, where a robed clergyman stands. He looks somber with his black robe and white hair, but when he begins to preach, it’s brimstone and fire. Condemnation for the wickedness that’s befallen this family and this city.

It’s ballsy considering everyone here knows Franco is the evil he speaks of. But Franco merely nods and murmurs “Amen” in all the right places. The rest of the room echoes his behavior. It’s disgusting. The only thing more hypocritical than a remorseless murderer in church is a sanctuary full of them.

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