Page 102 of Broken Wolf Heart
“Franco Giovanni was a titan. A leader. A father to us all,” he says, voice deep and practiced. “He was an alpha whose presence commanded respect and whose vision shaped this city.”
He pauses, no doubt for dramatic effect. “I had the honor of standing beside him through the years. He was a mentor to many, and to me, more than that. He was family.”
Bullshit.
My wolf strains beneath my skin.
The darkness whispers in my ear.
“Today, we mourn him by honoring the work he did in the past. But we must also look to the future.” He lifts his chin, scanning the room. “This city deserves leadershipforged in loyalty. In strength. In understanding. Someone who puts the safety of our people before their own ambition.”
His gaze slides pointedly toward Lexi. Subtle. Measured. Poison dipped in politeness. “Not those who court chaos. Who stumble into a position of power they barely understand, carrying a name and a title they didn’t earn.”
A low growl rips through my chest before I can stop it.
Lexi squeezes my hand, her thumb brushing over my skin.
It helps. A little.
My father doesn’t acknowledge my outburst. He just keeps going.
“We need leaders who remember what it means to serve. Not reign. Leaders who will protect the balance between our kind and theirs. Who won’t let blood and legacy be tainted by experiments and ambition.”
My nails dig into my thigh.
I know exactly what he’s doing.
And so does Lexi.
But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just watches him with that same regal stillness she possessed on our wedding day. Like the eye of a fucking hurricane.
My father bows his head. “Franco Giovanni was devoted to this city, and so am I. As a tribute to his memory, I can only hope to be as great a true alpha as he once was.”
He steps down to a smattering of applause.
My wolf still claws under my skin, impatient. I can feel the shift threatening at the base of my spine.
But I breathe through it.
For her.
She came here in full view of her enemies to honor the man who tried to control her and the system that tried to break her. And she did it not to mourn Franco but to show she’s not afraid.
She’s ten times stronger and better than my father will ever be.
So, I sit. I wait. I keep my wolf on a tight leash. And I let the darkness wrap itself around my heart instead of someone else’s throat.
At a nod from the priest, Lexi rises.
The moment she takes the podium, the church quiets.
“Franco Giovanni built this city on strength of will,” she begins, her voice even, warm. “He made hard choices, some of them to the detriment of the people affected by them. And while I didn’t agree with his actions, I respect the pack he built.”
I watch her. Every syllable honest, every word genuine. She’s not pretending. She’s doing what so few of them ever could—telling the truth without making someone bleed for it.
“There are those who think leadership is about dominance. That it comes from inheritance or tradition. But leadership, real leadership, is about responsibility. About listening. About fighting for people who may never thank you for it. People who can’t fight for themselves.”
A murmur of approval ripples through the crowd.
