Page 82 of Broken Wolf Heart
“We do exactly what we’ve been doing all along,” she says. “We beat him at his own game.”
Razor groans. “We’re back to politics and parties, aren’t we?”
Crow whispers something in his ear, and he shuts up. I swallow hard, thinking of Alvaro. We’ve done enough with violence already. Apparently, Razor agrees.
“What’s the mission then?” Donahue asks. “If we’re not going to attack him outright—which I’m starting to think plays right into his hands if we do—then how do we stop him?”
“We’ll need to find a way to spin this story,” Mia says. “It would help to know which media members he has in his pocket so we can try to flip them.”
“I say we just drive over there and take him out,” Broderick says. “Show this fucker who he’s messing with.”
“If we do that, he’ll use his alpha power to call every wolf in the Diavolo pack to fight for him,” Mia says. “We saw evidence of that yesterday.”
Broderick shrugs. “So? We’ll call all of ours. Giovanni pack has always been the strongest.”
“A lot of his pack are innocents,” Mia says. “People who only remain part of his pack through generational loyalty. Not to mention women and children.”
“So, we give them a chance to switch sides,” Broderick argues.
“Actually, that’s a good idea,” Donahue puts in. He looks at me. “Shouldn’t we offer them a chance to defect before we attack them?”
I glance between Donahue and Broderick. “Yes. But that takes time. Which is why we can’t afford to attack today.”
Broderick scowls but lets it go.
“He has the numbers to make this a very messy war if he wants to,” Mia says. “If we want to protect the people of this city, we need to alert them to what’s coming and let them choose.”
“I’m all for this plan, but it’s not like we can go door to door,” Dutch points out. “How do we plan to get the word out?”
“I’m working on that. In the meantime, we need round-the-clock patrols of the grounds so we aren’t caught off guard if and when Vincenzo does show up here again—” Mia halts when the door slams open hard enough to rattle the windows.
Grey stalks inside, chest heaving like he ran down here. His clothes are rumpled, the first few buttons of his shirt undone like he couldn’t be bothered to finish dressing. His eyes—storm-grey and wild—lock onto mine, then swing around the room, sharp and searching.
I tense, panicked that he’s lost to the darkness of thatcreature again. But then he focuses on the computer on the table, and when he speaks, his voice is his own.
“Turn on the news,” he says.
Crow is the fastest to react. He leans over the laptop perched near Mia and jabs a few keys. The screen flickers from the spreadsheet of patrol schedules to a live news feed.
“...a statement today from Vincenzo Diavolo,” the anchor says, her voice smooth and polished like this is just another day’s gossip.
The screen cuts to Vincenzo.
Standing at a podium in front of a sea of reporters, he wears a mournful expression so convincing it makes my stomach turn. Behind him, the glass walls of The Tower reflect wealth and corruption; a portal to the underworld he rules.
“My heart is heavy as I stand before you today with such grave information,” Vincenzo begins, “but I have a duty to the citizens of Indigo Hills. And that duty to protect goes beyond even my allegiance to the alpha.”
Grey appears on my left. He leans forward to grip the chair in front of him, one hand dropping to the back of it like he needs something to hold him up. With his other hand, he brushes the nape of my neck. I can feel his fingers trembling.
“I have become aware of a very serious crime committed by our late alpha,” Vincenzo says solemnly. “I had hoped these acts would end when he died, but I have learned our new alpha continues in her grandfather’s footsteps. And I can no longer, in good conscience, allow the truth to remain hidden.”
Vincenzo pauses dramatically, and the effect isn’t lost on me. My stomach tightens, and my wolf snarls in protest of the fear that builds inside me. “Proof has come to light that Lexi Giovanni—who many of you have accepted as your high alpha—is not what she claims to be.”
The words hit like a slap.
The screen flashes to a copy of my medical chart—a fileGrey and the others said was missing from the records we retrieved from Capo. Vincenzo’s voice continues while the screen shows dates of injections and the scientific names for the drugs they apparently gave me.
“She is, according to these medical records, the product of illegal genetic tampering,” Vincenzo says, his voice brimming with false regret. “An experiment conducted by Franco Giovanni and his corrupt scientists, altering her very nature before she could even walk. Altering her wolf itself. Permanently.”
