Page 106 of Broken Wolf Heart
He curls our fingers together more tightly, like we’re not already fused at the soul.
“You did good today,” he tells me. “That speech? The way they looked at you after? They saw their alpha.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know about that.”
“Grey’s right,” Mia says firmly. “I watched their faces, and they saw the future in you.”
My skepticism must be obvious because Andy chimes in, “Vincenzo’s stunt doesn’t change that either.”
“If they believe I’m capable of killing Alvaro and covering it up…”
“You’re not like him, and they know it,” Mia says. “You think a pack this tired of old blood wants to go back to someone like him?”
I don’t answer.
Because I want to believe them. But I’ve seen what fear andhate can do. I’ve watched it crush people under its heel. Strong people. Survivors like me.
Grey must sense it—because the next thing he says is a whisper, meant only for me, even though Andy and Mia and everyone else can hear every word.
“I love you, Lexi Giovanni. I would tear this city apart for you. And anyone who’s decent only has to be in the same room with you to feel the same.”
My heart stumbles.
He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. “But I’d rather build it with you instead.”
Tears sting behind my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I just breathe him in again. His wolf, his fury, his faith in me.
“I love you too,” I whisper. “And I’m not letting him take this from us.”
His fingers flex around mine.
“That’s my girl,” he says.
And even with the war, even with Vincenzo’s accusations rising like smoke behind us—I let myself believe him.
Just for one breath.
23
LEXI
We return to Franco’s mansion—or as I’m determined to call it, the estate, mostly because it sounds only slightly less pretentious—for a quiet reception open only to pack members. No media. No rival families. Definitely no one from Vincenzo’s side. Not when Alvaro’s name is in a missing person’s report and my name is listed alongside it.
Despite my doubts to the contrary, the Giovanni pack shows up. Not just the security teams and their families, or the lieutenants whose presence is required, but regular citizens too. They bring casseroles and hugs and wary glances. They offer condolences for Franco, yes—but mostly, they come for me.
They come to meet their alpha.
I shake so many hands I lose feeling in mine. Smile so many smiles my cheeks hurt. My wolf stays alert, pacing under my skin. Watching for signs of betrayal, or challenge, or both.
I’m beginning to realize those are the moments she’ll take me over. Part of me wants to appreciate the protection she offers, but the other part, the one whose will is taken over if that happens, would rather not.
“You looked good in that interview yesterday,” someone says. “Strong.”
I nod, murmuring an automatic thanks, but then the person smiles, and recognition strikes me.
“Bobby, right?” I ask warily.
He nods.
