18. Grey

18

GREY

A nthony Greco's funeral is a huge affair despite only two days' notice. The church, a non-denominational cathedral smack in the middle of downtown, feels more like a palace paid for with blood than a holy place. Its stained-glass windows and high, painted ceilings remind me that what matters most in this city are appearances. Fitting considering the crowd in attendance is only here to gawk and gossip anyway.

It grates on me, the mourners dressed in black filing past Ramsey and his aunt Sylvia, offering their empty condolences. Half of them never met the man lying lifeless in the casket up front. And even if they did, Anthony wasn't exactly a loved member of the community. They're here for politics. Anthony was a city official, a business owner, and most importantly, a general for the Diavolo family.

If he's gone, there's a power vacuum—or at least that's what the media's calling it.

Like sharks to blood, they smell the opportunity this presents.

Maybe that's why my father didn't bat an eye when I suggested we hold a party in Anthony's honor at the tower tonight. He needs to show strength right now. Business as usual. Nothing says "I'm not shaken" like getting wasted at your corporate headquarters on a Wednesday night. He hasn't even brought up the text he claims he didn't send or Lexi's attendance at that meeting. It's like our phone call never happened.

In fact, Vincenzo Diavolo is clear-eyed and smiling as he greets the attendees on their way past the casket. His dark suit is spotless, and his eyes have never been drier. The only sign that he's acknowledging the high stakes is the security detail he arrived with. At least six men escorted him inside. They've positioned themselves near where he stands now, trying—and failing—to blend in. Anytime anyone makes a sudden movement, one of them gets up and shoves them back until my father clears the person to pass.

Even Ramsey was blocked from approaching.

Ramsey's prediction that he'll be welcomed as a general was na?ve. He spent the last two days drinking himself into oblivion while his aunt Sylvia made the arrangements for today's service. The fact that he couldn't pull himself together hasn't gone unnoticed by the pack leaders.

Tucked into the fourth row, Dutch sits on my left. Razor and Mia are in the back somewhere, keeping an eye on the room and all the players in it. Crow's on standby at Mia's penthouse in case shit hits the fan. He wouldn't be welcome here, and we can't afford to piss off the generals—not today.

Lexi's on my right. She's quiet, taking it all in. The last two days have been a whirlwind of making plans for this party and talking through all the ways tonight could go wrong.

I hate involving Lexi.

She shouldn't be exposed to any more danger than she already is, but I also can't leave her alone. After hacking the phone company, Dutch traced the IP using cell towers and a bunch of shit I don't understand to prove Dom was the one who texted me pretending to be my father. He clearly wanted Lexi to witness what happened to Anthony. Or maybe he wanted to show me he can get to her—and me. Either way, I'm not going to let him fuck with her again.

Franco and his people walk in just as the organ begins to play.

The rest of the guests hurry to take their seats, but Franco ambles. There's no other word for it. He makes his way to the front so slowly that the organ's song ends, pauses, then begins again. Dom and the other generals trail him, the former winking at Lexi as he passes our row.

She stiffens beside me, relaxing only a little when he finally turns back to his own people again. They all settle in the front row across the aisle from Ramsey and Sylvia. In the second row, my father's men look over at Franco's people.

The generals all nod stiffly at one another.

The two alphas don't even make eye contact.

Dom makes it a point to look over at the casket then shake his head as if to say the deceased brought this on himself.

Fucker.

I stare at his profile as if my eyes could burn a hole through his temple. My hands curl into fists as rage courses through me. All I can think about is how he put his hands on Lexi. Touched her without her permission—and without mine.

My wolf wants vengeance.

Don't be reckless.

I can practically hear Dutch's voice in my head. It was a hell of a lot easier to agree with that sentiment before he smiled at me while Anthony Greco was shot in the head. Now, I'm not sure I can commit to that kind of self-control.

As if he knows what I'm battling, Dutch bumps his shoulder into mine. I tear my gaze away from Dom and glance at my second. He shakes his head subtly.

I scowl.

On my other side, Lexi covers my fist with her hand, her soft fingers brushing over my knuckles.

Instantly, the contact relaxes me.

My eyes catch on the glittering diamond ring. Underneath it, she still wears the twist-tie I gave her. My heart warms at the sight of it. I can't deny that I enjoy the way it marks her. The way my wolf wishes he could mark her. Claim her. At least this way, the world knows she's mine.

I exhale and look over at her.

In her green-eyed gaze, I find an anchor.

Around us, the organ's song builds, sweeping and sad. In this moment, it feels like a soundtrack to our inevitable end.

We're rushing toward it, faster and faster every day.

The song finishes for a second time.

I look away from Lexi and up to the dais, where a robed clergyman stands. He looks somber with his black robe and white hair, but when he begins to preach, it's brimstone and fire. Condemnation for the wickedness that's befallen this family and this city.

It's ballsy considering everyone here knows Franco is the evil he speaks of. But Franco merely nods and murmurs "Amen" in all the right places. The rest of the room echoes his behavior. It's disgusting. The only thing more hypocritical than a remorseless murderer in church is a sanctuary full of them.

I swallow the bile.

The worst part is that I can't really feel sorry for Anthony, only fury and shame for what we've all become. And what we'll all be before it's over. I left this town so it wouldn't break me. Now that I'm back, the only option is to break it instead.

At the end of the service, Lexi finally releases my hand. I feel the absence of her touch like a hole in my heart, but I force myself to focus on the room. On this moment. And whether either side will use it to make a move.

Franco and his people stand, but they don't leave, instead chatting with one another and greeting guests. A quick glance at the back shows Mia and Razor watching closely.

My father makes his way slowly down the main aisle, surrounded by his generals and waylaid every few seconds by those offering condolences. When he disappears into the vestibule behind me, I exhale.

Mia keeps telling me he's not stupid enough to pull some shit out in the open like this, but Franco's never executed a Diavolo general at a board meeting either.

"Let's get going," I say when I'm convinced my father's left.

"I'll get the car." Dutch slips away.

I turn to lead Lexi out using the far aisle by the wall, but Charlie Reyes blocks my path.

"Jericho."

I frown, a little surprised both that he's speaking to me directly—a rare thing despite him being around for most of my life—and that he's choosing to do it so publicly. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"May I have a word?" His gaze flicks over my shoulder to Lexi, making his message clear. He wants to speak alone.

I open my mouth to refuse him, but Lexi lays her hand on my arm.

"I'm going to wait with Mia," she says, nodding at the back of the room.

"Don't talk to anyone else." I try not to sound completely paranoid. "Go straight back. Stay with Mia until I return."

"I will," she assures me. Then she slips into the center aisle and makes her way back.

I turn to Charlie. "Where would you like to talk?"

"I think the refreshments are this way." He makes his way up the side aisle before pushing through an unmarked door that leads farther into the church.

I follow, irritated that he's wasting my time with refreshments and bullshit. But the moment I step through the door, he rounds on me, pushing the door shut and wedging it closed with the doorstop on the floor.

"What the fuck?" I demand.

"We don't have much time," he says, suddenly earnest.

"Time for what, Charlie? What is this?"

"If anyone asks, I'm inquiring about Ramsey's mental state so I can report back to the generals."

"His mental state is fucked." Exactly what Charlie's going to be if he's pulling something.

"Yes, I'm aware. Mia's already updated me."

My mind races as I try to catch up to…whatever this is. What else has Mia told him? No. She would never betray me. Maybe my father ordered him to isolate me. Fuck. There are so many reasons he would do that—none of them good.

"Then what do you want?" I demand.

"Vincenzo wants revenge for what Franco did to Anthony."

This gets my attention. Alarm bells ring in my head. For Charlie to admit that…to me…must mean it's bad.

"Do you know what he's planning?" I ask.

"Nothing direct. He knows better than to implicate himself," Charlie says, but his tone makes it clear that's not a good thing.

"What do you know?" I press.

"He'll use the girl. Lexi." Charlie's eyes glitter with the closest thing to regret I've ever seen in a general. It's unnerving coming from any of them, but with Charlie, I don't immediately brush it off as an act.

"Use her how?"

"I don't know the whole story. We've held round-the-clock strategy meetings about how to respond to what happened to Anthony…" Charlie shakes his head. "But your father doesn't attend. He's holed up in his office taking phone calls."

"From who?"

"A doctor from Franco's past. I don't have a name. All I know is it has something to do with Lexi's wolf. A secret Franco's kept from us all."

"What kind of secret?"

"Lexi is powerful. More powerful than your father or even Franco. Your father wants to control that power. Take it for himself."

I study him, trying to gauge whether he's playing me. "Why are you telling me this? This kind of betrayal will get you killed."

Charlie meets my gaze unflinchingly. "Despite his many faults, your father's always been there for me, but his thirst for power has taken him down a road I can't follow. His desire to own Lexi—to treat her like a possession to be used—crosses a line for me.

"As the father of a strong, smart, capable daughter, I can't sit idly by and watch the women of this pack continue to be overlooked and exploited. They deserve better than that." The steel in his eyes softens for a moment as fear flickers. "They deserve better than us."

Charlie's always been pissed about the sexism against Mia. That's no secret. Even so, I didn't survive in Indigo Hills this long to lower my guard now when it matters most.

"How do I know my father didn't put you up to this?"

"What does he gain by letting me give you this warning?"

I don't know, but that doesn't mean there isn't an angle. "What makes you think I give a shit about Lexi?"

His tone is gentle, but that doesn't soften the blow as he says, "She's your mate, son. I'm not an idiot."

My heart thunders in my chest as my whole body reacts to his words. My wolf strains against my skin, my alpha power surging. It's all I can do not to unleash it on Charlie, but I can't hide the work it takes to regain control.

Fuck. I have no doubt the truth is written in my expression. There's no denying it now. There's also no point asking if my father knows it too. If Charlie's put it together, the old man surely has.

"When will he make his move?" I ask.

"I don't know. Soon. And when he does, if you haven't made one first, it'll already be too late."