Page 52 of Dark Wolf Soul
A noise outside cuts through the silence, and Franco’s gaze whips toward the door.
“Boss,” Dom says.
“Put her in the storage cellar,” Franco says dismissively.
Panic spears through me. “What?”
Dom comes forward, but I shrink back before he can grab me.
“I came here to join you willingly,” I tell Franco. “Not to become your prisoner.”
“You clearly know nothing about our way of life,” Franco says. “You can’t simply walk in off the street and join an organization like ours.”
“I’m your blood,” I snap, “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Why do you think you’re still breathing?” he shoots back.
Dom grabs my arms and starts pulling me toward the back of the restaurant. I struggle, glaring at Franco, who’s already turned his back on me and is headed for the back door too.
“You’re just as bad as Vincenzo,” I scream.
“Actually,” Dom whispers in my ear, his tone gleefully cruel, “we’re way fucking worse.”
“You can’t just lock me up,” I protest, fear snaking down my spine as Dom drags me toward the swinging doors where Franco just disappeared.
He’s way stronger than me, which means the fact that we’re going this slow is his choice. He probably enjoys dragging it out.
“Oh, I plan to do a hell of a lot more than lock you up,” Dom murmurs. “By the time we’re done, Vincenzo and his little bitch son will know better than to fuck with us.”
18
GREY
The first explosion is a doozy. The force of it demolishes the asphalt road and concrete sidewalk and sends chunks of each hurtling in every direction. Car alarms sound, and screams ring out. It’s fucking chaos. Razor rigged it that way on my orders, but still—I wince at the damage done to the corner of the block thanks to the explosives that have just decimated everything in its radius. The moment the ground stops moving beneath my feet, I launch myself out of the alcove where I’d tucked myself and race down the alley toward the back door of Altobello’s.
When the second explosion goes off, this one right out front of the restaurant, I try not to think about casualties. Razor and Crow had explicit orders to clear the area of civilians before setting off their toys. But I have no way of knowing if they were able to do so without alerting Franco’s men to what was coming.
Now, all I can do is hope no innocent lives got caught in the crosshairs. And get Lexi the fuck out. If I can’t do that, it was all for nothing anyway.
I’m nearly to the door when tires screech into the alley behind me. A quick glance back reveals a familiar sedan and Dutch’s wild-eyed form behind the wheel.
He whoops loudly enough that I can hear him over the rev of the engine. It’s his version of a hyped-up battle cry, one he swears will intimidate the enemy even before we reach them. For me, silence is the best weapon, so I keep my mouth shut and my eyes open as I crash through the restaurant’s back door.
Two strides in, my path is blocked by a scraggly-bearded asshole I know by reputation alone.
“Bobby Malone,” I pause long enough to say before smashing my fist into his face.
He rears back but doesn’t go down.
“Grey Diavolo,” he snarls, spitting out a mix of saliva and blood.
Straightening, he comes at me with a look of pure murder in his eyes. Get in line, buddy.
My second punch lands in his ribs, and I’m rewarded with a loud crack as they split beneath my fist. I hit him once more so that he falls unmoving to the floor, then I move farther inside, my senses tuned to any movement. The kitchen door swings open and Franco himself walks through.
He stops at the sight of me, surprised into a moment of stillness. Then, he blinks and comes to his senses, skirting me as he pulls a gun from his waistband.
“Diavolo!” His eyes widen. “This goes against the rules of engagement, you cocksucker. I’ll have your balls for this!”
