Page 92 of Broken Wolf Heart
He squeezes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“Good,” he says. “Because that’s not where I meant.”
I blink up at him, confused. “Then where?”
He grins—boyish and secretive. “I have something to show you.”
19
GREY
The drive takes longer than I want it to. Not because of traffic but because I’m impatient. Lexi sits beside me in the passenger seat, quiet and tense. I see her worry in how she fidgets with her hands, the way her eyes dart to mine like she’s making sure I’m real, like maybe she’s still convincing herself she didn’t just risk her life and mine on a live stream.
I’m proud of her. So fucking proud. But I’m also aware of how much this cost us. What my father tried to do… what she just did in return… How fragile the future feels. Her energy is fraying at the edges, like a candle burning at both ends. I can feel it in the tether that connects us. I can feel it in my wolf too—how he paces, alert, even though danger isn’t imminent in this very moment. Like he knows what comes next is just as important as the war we’ll fight eventually.
The dark creature that rose in me at the warehouse hasn’t been back. I have no idea what it was or how it took me over like that. I was my wolf…but not. And the theories I’ve been wrestling with about how to explain the foreign feeling of it all would make me sound crazy if I said them out loud. So, I’ve kept them to myself. Haven’t even told Dutch or the others. Because what I felt like in that moment was Franco.
“Where are we going?” she asks, finally breaking the silence.
“You’ll see.”
She rolls her eyes and looks damn cute about it. “That’s not an answer.”
I smirk. “I know.”
She huffs, but it’s affectionate. She’s used to my evasions by now.
I spend a few miles making sure we aren’t followed. Then, I head for the highway. Just before we exit the city limits, I turn off the main road and wind down a narrow two-lane drive flanked by old-growth trees. Spanish moss dangles from the limbs like nature’s curtains, and late-afternoon sunlight flickers through in soft, golden patches. There’s no street sign. No mailbox. Just a barely-there gravel path tucked behind a rusted gate that blends so well into the underbrush, you’d miss it if you didn’t know where to look.
Lexi leans forward in her seat then shoots me a dubious look. “This looks like a murder road.”
I laugh. “I think you’ll change your mind in a minute.”
I pull up to the gate and type in the code. A second later, it swings open with a low creak. The gravel crunches beneath the tires as we make the slow climb up a wooded incline. At the top, the trees open to reveal a small, stone-front cottage with blue shutters and a porch swing that moves in the breeze. Faint smoke curls from the chimney like the place is already waiting for us. Thanks to Dutch, who better fucking be long gone now.
Lexi stares at the house.
“What is this place?” she whispers.
I kill the engine.
“It’s ours,” I say, turning toward her. “I bought it under afake name, paid cash. No one knows it’s here. Not Vincenzo. Not our packs. Not even Dutch—well, until today.”
Her eyes widen. “You’ve had this… how long?”
“A few weeks. I found it right after the engagement party.”
When I knew I’d fallen in love with her.
Emotion flickers in her eyes, but she pushes the door open and climbs out without a word. I follow.
Inside, the house is all honey wood floors and creamy walls. Low beams cross the ceiling, and the living room has a plush sectional sofa big enough for both of us to sprawl out together. There’s a fireplace. A real one. And a kitchen with copper pans and stone counters and light streaming in through windows that look out into the wooded backyard.
Lexi runs her fingers over the back of the couch like she’s not sure any of this is real.
“What are you thinking?” I ask when I can’t wait any longer.
She looks up at me, her lips curving. “This couch is a lot nicer than the one we met on.”
