Page 67 of Dark Wolf Soul
Before I can ask what he means, two more cars arrive. One is a dark Mercedes, and the other is a bright blue sportscar of some sort that was clearly not made for gravel lanes like this one.
“Shit,” Grey mutters.
I look at him, and he explains, “More generals. That one’s Razor’s old man, and that one’s Dutch’s.”
“So, Mia, Ramsey, Razor, and Dutch are all sons and daughters of a general? What about Crow? Is his dad a general too?” I ask.
“His dad is Razor’s dad,” Grey says quietly.
“They’re brothers.”
“Sort of,” is all he says.
I want to ask what he means, but then a fifth vehicle pulls in—another SUV. It parks right in front of the porch, blocking everyone else in. My stomach tightens as the driver gets out, looking more like a UFC fighter than a professional chauffeur.
“Get in the kitchen,” Grey tells me and then propels me that way by force.
The back door opens as I hurry around the island toward the sink. Mia, Ramsey, Razor, and Dutch all file in. Crow is notably absent, but I don’t dare ask where he went as the front door bangs open and men file inside the living room. Mia grabs my arms and pulls me backward a step, tucking me in between her and Razor.
Grey plants himself between the two groups in the open doorway that connects both rooms, his hard gaze on the four generals. They don’t say a word to anyone as they spread out in the suddenly-small space. Instead, they all sweep the faces of those present and settle on me.
I swallow hard as I study their faces.
“Razor, you fucking idiot,” one of them snarls with a trace of a Hispanic accent. He’s taller with dark hair like Razor and has the same broad build and thick arms.
Razor stiffens beside me, but his tone is light as he shrugs and says, “You know me, pops.”
The man snorts, his hands fisting at his sides. “You never fucking learn.”
“Mia, I swear, you’re better than this crowd,” says the man Grey pointed out as Mia’s father. His hair is a reddish hue though nowhere near as bright her hers.
“That’s what I keep telling them, Daddy,” she drawls.
The man’s eyes flash with irritation.
“Ramsey, you and I are going to have that chat I’ve been promising you,” his father says. His golden hair is streaked with gray, but he’s toned and even more built than Ramsey is. What is it with these mafia guys and their huge size?
“Bring it, Pops,” Ramsey says, the last word dripping with sarcasm.
The man growls, and I tense, wondering if this room is large enough to hold even one of them in wolf form.
Finally, another figure steps in through the front door, and a hush falls over the space. The generals part quickly for him to pass, and he steps to the front. I don’t need to see his face to know who it is, but the moment I do, the fury emanating has me shrinking back.
Vincenzo.
The others around me have gone rigid though I don’t know if it’s from fear, like me, or fury.
“You defied my direct order, you piece of shit,” Vincenzo snarls at Grey.
I flinch, but Grey says nothing.
“I should bury you for this,” Vincenzo adds.
“Maybe,” Grey says evenly. “Though you’re the one who begged me to come back to this fucking city. You get what you pay for: isn’t that what they say?”
“You fucking ingrate,” Vincenzo roars in his face.
Grey blinks but otherwise doesn’t react. My heart thunders against my ribcage, fear clogging my throat. Every one of these men looks like they want to kill us. Or at least kill Grey.
