Page 97 of Broken Wolf Heart
That breaks me a little. Because I believe him. And I’ve never believed that kind of promise before. Then again, no one’s ever made a promise to me like that before.
I snuggle closer, pressing my forehead to his. “Thank you. For the house. For being there. For... not trying to fix me.”
“I don’t want to fix you, Lex. I just want to stand beside you while you fix the world.”
I laugh softly, even as my eyes sting. “No pressure.”
He kisses my temple, then my cheek, then the corner of my mouth. Then he’s planting kisses so fast and sloppy, I can’t help but laugh and wiggle away.
“Come on,” he says, like he’s satisfied with my happiness—like that was his goal all along, “Let’s get coffee and breakfast, and then I’ll have you for dessert.” His wink has my body tingling in anticipation.
The kitchenin the new house smells like cinnamon and dark roast. Grey stands at the counter in nothing but his boxers, hair a mess, tattoos on full display. He’s flipping pancakes like somekind of domestic sex god while I sit on the stool by the island, watching him with my chin in my hand.
“You know,” I murmur, “this whole hot alpha wolf thing really works when paired with maple syrup.”
He shoots me a look over his shoulder. “Noted. Should I add bacon to the rotation?”
“Bacon’s a sex toy now. Officially.”
Grey barks a laugh, and something warm and fizzy bubbles in my chest. I can’t get enough of this. The normalcy between us. The teasing and laughter. It’s stupid to think we could have a life like this, but I can’t help wishing…
There’s a knock at the door.
My smile fades.
Grey puts the spatula down, instantly alert. “Stay here.”
He walks to the front of the house, his stance shifting into predator mode so fast it makes my head spin. But the tension drains the second he looks through the peephole.
Relaxed, he opens the door.
“Morning,” Dutch says casually, stepping inside with his hands raised. “No need to shift and maul, big guy. Just bringing news.”
Grey grunts. “Next time, text.”
“I did. Three times. You were too busy playing house to check it.”
Dutch winks at me as he steps into the kitchen, dropping a folded newspaper on the counter beside me. “You made the front page.”
I unfold it slowly, heart thudding. The headline reads: SHE-WOLF TELLS ALL: LEXI GIOVANNI IS ONE OF US.
Below it, a still from the interview. Me in that green dress, eyes steady, mouth mid-sentence. I stare at the picture, trying to recognize the version of me I see there. She looks… brave. Bold. I’m awed by it. By her.
I exhale shakily. “They didn’t twist it.”
“Nope,” Dutch says. “Savannah’s a real one. And public opinion’s starting to tilt. Slow, but steady. You convinced people they can trust you.”
“How does it change the numbers?” Grey asks.
“Defections are on the rise. Andy says a non-stop stream of people have been showing up at the gate since the interview aired.” He doesn’t look nearly as happy as his words make it sound.
“So what’s the problem?” I ask.
“It’s not enough. Not yet,” Grey says knowingly. He hands me a mug of coffee before taking the stool beside mine. “What’s my asshole father doing about it?”
Dutch grimaces. “We don’t know yet. Rumor is he’ll try to hijack Franco’s funeral tonight.”
The funeral I asked Andy to expedite, mostly so we could concentrate on the memorial services for our fallen security guards. They’re the ones who deserve to be honored, but this city is steeped in sick traditions, and honoring a dead alpha is one that might as well be written into law.
