5. Lexi

5

LEXI

G rey is quiet as we drive. Even the call from his father didn't subdue him like this. Whoever he called as he left my room earlier must've said something to piss him off, though I don't ask what. I'm not confident enough to pry. Not with the secret I'm keeping.

In the side mirror, I spot a dark car with tinted windows trailing us. Would Franco be dumb enough to put a tail on me as obvious as this one? Would Ramsey?

"Relax."

Grey's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He lays a hand over mine. I look down and realize I've been picking at my cuticles.

"The car behind us is my security. Remember that car we took home from the engagement party?"

I dart another glance at my mirror. Sure enough, the car and driver are the ones we used for our engagement celebration a couple of days ago. My thoughts drift to what we did in that car on the way home. And in his bedroom after.

Grey's hand is warm where it rests over mine for one beat, two…

He removes it and drapes it over the e-brake instead.

I suppress a sigh and turn my attention back to the window, watching the city whir by. As we drive through downtown Indigo Hills, music streams softly through the car's speakers. I let it wash over me, enjoying the lazy, vibey acoustics after what feels like a lifetime of club beats or "stripper ballads," as Violet called the slow songs she always selected for her stage performances.

A pang of loneliness hits me in the gut.

I don't miss my job at Shady Shag's, but I do miss Violet, my only friend. She's probably a mess from my disappearance. I don't remember much of my exit—okay, abduction—that night because I passed out from the shock of seeing Grey transform into a wolf right before my eyes, but it must seem like I vanished into thin air.

Even if I can't go back, I wish I could at least let Violet know I'm okay. The phone Grey gave me yesterday has tempted me more than once, but I can't bring myself to reach out to her with it. Tech is traceable, and I have no doubt Vincenzo would use Violet to hurt me. Could Grey's courier get her a message? The one he used to retrieve my things?

A quick glance at him makes it clear now isn't a good time to ask. His jaw is set, the muscle flexing as he grinds his teeth. He's definitely upset, which reignites my own fear.

I look away before he can see me staring.

Fidgeting again, I play with the enormous engagement ring he insisted I wear today. The diamond is heavy and blinding, not at all what I would've wanted if this engagement were real. But it's not. It's me playing a part, pretending to be someone I'm not.

And this gaudy ring symbolizes that perfectly.

"You don't like it."

My head whips up at his words. He looks from me to the ring and back again, his gaze perceptive enough that I don't bother to deny it.

"It's not what I would've chosen," I say carefully.

His mouth curves ruefully. "I guess choice wasn't exactly part of the process for either of us."

My heart pricks at that.

He didn't choose me.

Does that mean he doesn't want me, after all?

"I didn't say I felt the same about the person who gave me the ring." The words are out before I can talk myself out of it.

His expression softens. For a second, he's completely open, his feelings on full display. "I hope you mean that."

His voice is rough and vulnerable, shooting an arrow of hope straight to my heart, but before I can ask if he feels the same way, his expression tightens again, and he's back to brooding.

I don't say anything else.

Twenty minutes later, we've swapped the skyscrapers for rolling lawns that grow wider and more manicured as we wind along. Houses become larger and larger until we turn left into a gated neighborhood. Grey slows to a stop at the guardhouse and rolls his window down. But the uniformed guard merely offers a salute and waves us through without a word.

Grey waves back, and we drive on.

My worry is overtaken by awe as I drink in the beautiful houses along our route. They're set back from the road, obscured by lush trees and bright green hedges, but I glimpse enough of them to note the luxury.

After a couple of turns, Grey pulls into one of the driveways.

The sprawling mansion looks like somewhere a congressman might live. A quick count gives it at least five chimneys and four different balconies. The exterior is a cream-colored stone of some kind. And the lawn is flawless. The grass couldn't have been more perfect if someone had painted it on.

Grey parks under a covered carport on the side of the house.

"Where are we?" I ask, unable to hold in my curiosity another moment.

"Dutch's house," Grey says before climbing out.

My jaw drops as Grey rounds the car. He pulls my door open just as the security car parks behind us. I shut my mouth and climb hastily out to join him. "Seriously?"

"What? This place doesn't scream Dutch to you?"

Before I can answer, a familiar lanky figure emerges from the house. Dutch is dressed in swimming trunks and a short-sleeved white button-down left undone to reveal a surprisingly cut chest and abs.

At the sight of us, he spreads his arms wide in greeting, a bottled beer clutched in one hand. "Mi amigos," he calls as if this is some kind of reunion.

"Where are the others?" Grey asks.

"Her Majesty is out by the pool." He tips his sunglasses down his nose and glances at me. "Waiting for you," he adds. "You did bring a suit, right?"

"Under my clothes," I say, gesturing to the sundress I threw on over the blue bikini I dug out of my duffel bag earlier. It's Violet's bathing suit. She wore it for a stage performance once—some mermaid thing she decided not to do again—but it's technically a swimsuit. And despite how scant the fabric is, it makes me feel close to her to wear it now.

I need her courage today.

"Good." Dutch waves me toward the house. "Come on. I'll show you where to go while Grey and I get the snacks."

I follow them inside, trying not to gawk. Marble floors give way to buttery white furniture and matching drapes that frame large windows overlooking the backyard. I pass a gleaming sideboard and can't help but run my fingers over its pristine surface.

Grey's penthouse is nice, but this place feels like a castle.

We reach an atrium in the very center of the house, and the walkway branches in four directions. To my left, there are more rooms decorated in mostly white and an ascending staircase near a set of wide front doors. But Dutch points to the right where French doors stand open to the outside. Beyond that, a patio beckons, and music spills in from outside speakers.

"Mia's out there," Dutch tells me.

Grey adds, "We'll be right back."

He and Dutch disappear down the hall, and I go in search of Mia, the only other woman in the friend group and one of Grey's closest confidantes. Up until yesterday, I might've considered us friends too, but after last night, I can't afford to think like that.

I find the gorgeous redhead lounging beside a pool fit for the Olympics. She wears dark sunglasses and a black-and-white striped bikini that, along with her red hair, gives off a classic-movie-star vibe. Sunlight casts her skin in a bronze glow, highlighting the freckles dotting her cheeks. The entire scene could be printed on a postcard. Only the slight breeze stirring her hair gives it away as real.

When I stop in front of her, she reaches up and slides her glasses down her nose much like Dutch did. "You're alive."

And just like that, the pretty picture is slashed into pieces, and I'm on full alert. "Was there a doubt?"

"Sit." She points to the empty lounge chair beside her.

I take it, still on edge. Does she know what Ramsey did to me last night? Does everyone? Is this a setup?

"He's not using you," she says. "Well, not entirely."

"Who?" I ask, confused.

"Grey." She says it like it's obvious, but I honestly have no idea what we're talking about here.

"Okay…"

"Look, if you don't trust him, just tell him that. You don't have to fake an illness to avoid going out with him. He's a big boy. He can handle the truth."

"I wasn't?—"

Razor and Crow emerge from the house, followed by Ramsey. The three of them are laughing and hooting about something. At the sight of Mia and me, they offer boisterous greetings and matching grins.

"Fucking finally," Mia says with a huff. "You ladies take forever to answer a summons. What if it had been an emergency?"

"Crow couldn't get his hair right," Razor says, reaching out to ruffle his half-brother's hair.

"Fuck off." Crow shoves Razor.

Razor shoves him back.

They nearly knock each other to the ground in a sudden wrestling match.

"Ramsey, do something," Mia says, sitting up.

"What the hell do you want me to do?" Ramsey asks.

"Ugh. I swear, I'm surrounded by children." Mia jumps up and rushes over, easily yanking the brothers off each other. It's impressive, her tiny stature overpowering their muscular bodies. Of course, Mia's a powerful wolf shifter just like they are, but it's hard to wrap my brain around it when she's standing next to them and looking so slight in comparison.

I can't help but wish I had strength like that too.

Would Franco think twice about messing with me if I were a wolf? Would Vincenzo?

With their fight over, Mia starts lecturing the two of them about manners. I smile at their sheepish expressions—until Ramsey steps into my path, blocking my view.

My smile evaporates.

I force myself to focus on his face, bile rising. I hate the way he stands here, pretending he's not selling out his friends to their worst enemy. But mostly I hate that he forced me to do it too—which has essentially put us on the same side. So, now the sight of him reminds me that I hate myself.

He comes toward me, his happy-go-lucky expression replaced by a tightness that hardens his sparkling blue eyes to granite. Ramsey reminded me of a Greek god the first time I saw him. Now, that's even more true, considering how fucked up and backstabbing those gods really were.

"What did you tell Grey?" he asks, pulling up a chair from the table nearby.

"About what?" I ask stubbornly.

His eyes narrow. "You know what."

I glance away from him. "I told him I was sick."

"And he believed you?"

"Yes."

He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it more disheveled than I've ever seen it. He looks ready to say more, but Mia rejoins us, followed by Razor and Crow. She drops back into her lounge chair just as Dutch and Grey appear, their arms loaded with drinks.

Dutch gives a cold beer to each of the guys, while Grey hands Mia and me a can of something I don't recognize.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Hard seltzer," Mia says. "They taste way better than that crap."

"Thanks." I take it but don't open it.

Alcohol and lies don't mix well. Not for me, anyway. Ramsey, however, pops the top of his beer and swigs. The others all open their drinks and, for a moment, the small talk and laughter between them is pure friendship. The kind that can only come from a long history together.

Razor accidentally spills some of his beer on the concrete.

"Party foul," Dutch accuses.

"Chill," Razor mutters, shoving Dutch.

Dutch shoves him back, which results in Razor spilling even more beer.

"You're both heathens," Mia says.

Crow smirks at that. He catches my eye. "Don't judge us all based on my heathen brother."

"Noted," I say, returning his smile.

For half a second, I forget these people aren't my friends. Or that Crow wouldn't be this friendly if he knew where I was last night—and why. For half a second, I let myself be happy.

The illusion vanishes when I look over at Grey. He doesn't look amused like the others do. He's watching Ramsey with a deepening frown. My insides tighten, and I look away again before he can catch me staring.

"Okay," Mia says. "As fun as it is to day-drink with you assholes, can we get down to business? I have shit to do."

"You're really fucking bossy, you know that?" Dutch grumbles.

"I'm only bossy because you're all children." Mia flashes him a brilliant smile. "Someone has to be the mature one in this group."

Ramsey laughs, and Grey's gaze on him sharpens.

"Mia's right," Grey says. "We have a lot to discuss. Let's go."

Go?

Everyone moves to follow Grey, and I get the sense they've done this before. He leads them around the pool and away from the house. Ahead, the gardens spread out before us.

"Where are we going?" I fall into step with Mia at the back of the line.

She has her towel wrapped around her waist and her dark glasses hide most of her face. In a low voice, she says, "We can't talk out in the open like this. Not with Rocco in and out of the house."

I pause, remembering the name. "Rocco is Dutch's father."

"He's the donor anyway," Dutch pipes up.

Mia looks over at me wryly. "Like I said, we can't risk him overhearing our conversations."

I nod.

Dutch's dad is one of Vincenzo's generals. In fact, every one of Grey's friends is the son or daughter of a mafia pack general. I've only met the generals once, but that was enough for me to know we don't want them discovering our plans. They're loyal to Vincenzo, and he's already proven what he'll do if Grey defies him even an inch.

We file into the pool house, which is larger and nicer than any house I've ever lived in. White carpet and beige furniture decorate the space. Artwork with relaxing beach scenes hang on the walls. It's not quite as opulent as the main house—and a little more lived-in, now that I'm looking closer. Video games are strewn over the entertainment center's surface and a pair of flip flops rest upside down in the corner where someone flung them.

Dutch drops onto the couch and drapes his arm over the cushioned armrest. Razor and Crow both take a seat on the couch with him. Mia opts to stand near the window, leaning on the wall as she sips her drink.

Grey takes one of the oversized chairs opposite the couch. I take the other.

"Well?" Dutch says when everyone's settled. "What's the plan, boss?"

Grey's gaze is aimed across the room, where Ramsey's standing in front of the fridge. He comes away with another beer but stops short when he sees us watching.

"What?" he asks, his golden-haired, blue-eyed look the epitome of innocence.

If I hadn't been with him at Franco's, I'd never suspect him as a traitor.

But he is.

And all I feel when I look at him is contempt.

"Before we discuss our strategy, we need to get a few things straight," Grey says. His tone is sharp, and no one says a word, even when his pause stretches.

Ramsey comes slowly forward, his drink dangling in his hand. "All right," he says warily. "What's on your mind?"

"First off," Grey says, his gaze stony, "why don't you tell me what Franco said to you last night."

Every cell in my body screams danger.

This is it.

He already knows—and bringing us out here to this isolated space is the perfect way to deal with us without anyone ever knowing what happened.

This isn't just a setup. It's an ambush.

Ramsey doesn't miss a beat. "Ugh, I fucking knew you'd hear about it. Listen, before you get all cocked on going after Dom, think it through."

"Of course I'd hear about it," Grey snaps. "The question is why didn't you want me to know?"

Mia shoots me a questioning glance, but I don't meet her eyes. I can't. Even without Grey's attention on me, I know he's reading my reaction right now. I'm hyper-aware of him sitting so close to me. Close enough to reach over and grab me if Ramsey decides to throw me under the bus.

The others are deadly silent, hanging on Ramsey's answer.

"Because it's not hard to figure out that you feel something for her," Ramsey says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Grey frowns.

I stop breathing, waiting to see how this will play out.

"And I knew the moment you heard Dom touched her, you'd want to kill him. But listen, we can't afford that emotional shit right now, okay? Dutch, talk sense into him."

Dutch blinks, and I watch as the words click into the parts of his brain that make sense. He looks over at Grey and shrugs. "Ramsey's right. Dom deserves whatever we dish out, but we can't get reckless about it."

Grey's attention swings back to me. "Did he hurt you?" he asks quietly.

"No," I say quickly.

"The motherfucker tossed you over his shoulder from what I heard," Dutch drawls.

Grey's eyes narrow on me.

"He did," I agree, looking only at Grey. "Dom's definitely an asshole, I'm not arguing that. But he didn't hurt me. He just wanted to scare me."

"And did he?" Grey presses. "Scare you?"

This time, I can't help glancing at Ramsey. "Yes," I say, my eyes boring into his. It's not a lie. Dom did scare me, but the damage Ramsey could do scares me more.

When I look back at Grey, his hands are fisted. He's pissed, and I can't tell how much of that temper is aimed at me.

"But Dutch is right," I add, unwilling to acknowledge that Ramsey's advice came first. "Let's be smart, not reckless."

Grey doesn't answer right away, and the fear gnaws through my control until I have to squeeze my hands together to keep them from trembling. "What did he say to you?" he asks.

"Dom?"

"And Franco."

"Franco wasn't even there," Ramsey chimes in before I can answer.

Grey rounds on him. "She can speak for herself."

Ramsey rolls his eyes like this is all just an annoyance and pops his beer open.

Grey turns back to me. His dark eyes are piercing, like he's stripping me bare. Layer by layer. Until all that exists is the truth.

"Dom wants me," I say quietly, not sure I can trust my voice any louder. "He said that…if I play my cards right, I'll get him as my prize."

Grey snarls.

"That fucker is dead," Dutch mutters.

"Yeah, but Lexi got him," Ramsey says, nodding his approval. "Gouged his face with her nails."

"Good for you," Mia says, her eyes burning so brightly, I wonder if her hair will catch fire. It's the only thing she's said so far, and I swallow my guilt at lying to a girl who so obviously has my back on this.

"Anything else?" Grey asks, and I refocus on him.

"I think Dom wants me out of the way," I say, because it's a thought I've had between the moments of dread over my promise to spy. "Does he stand to inherit the Giovanni pack?"

"Not officially, but the assumption was there," Grey says. "He's always strutted around like it's in the bag."

"That all went away the moment she got here," Razor says.

The others frown.

I search their faces, hungry to understand more of this world to help me survive it. "Is that how it works?" I ask. "Franco could name another heir instead of me, and they'd just get everything?"

"Not with you alive and in this city," Dutch says pointedly.

I try not to think about the alternative to either of those things.

"So, right now, if I'm…here, and something happens to Franco, I inherit his title?" I ask.

"Traditionally, you would, yes," Grey says, "But…"

"But?" I prompt.

"You're not bound to anyone yet," Mia says when no one else speaks up. "It's archaic and sexist as fuck, but until you and Grey are married, you're fair game for claiming. Dom could use that. Force you to marry him instead. Then he'd kill you and get your title."

I shudder at the casual way she tosses out the idea of my death. "Why bother to marry me before killing me?"

"Because you're not a wolf," Dutch says.

I frown. "So, if I were a wolf, he'd just kill me."

Dutch shrugs. "Probably."

Mia reaches over and smacks the back of his head.

"Ow," he says. "What?"

She sighs. "Since you're human, Dom would need a legal tie to you. Otherwise, anyone could challenge his rule as alpha if you were out of the picture," she says. "Not to mention, Dom would have to fight any challenger, and the coward doesn't want to do that."

"So, as a single, unmarried human, I'd have a better chance of keeping my title," I say, trying to wrap my head around all the technicalities.

"It's hard to say," she admits. "We've never had a human alpha before. Normally, if you kill an alpha wolf, you inherit their title and power. But since you're human, there's no power to inherit. Only the title. Keeping it might be harder."

"I don't know. The generals would probably accept her," Dutch says. "Or Santiago and Conrad would, at least. She's Franco's bloodline, which would carry a lot of weight with them. But also, no offense, Lexi, they'd see you as someone to manipulate for their own gain."

"True," Mia says. "They'd probably just suck up to convince you to relinquish the title to them instead. Or give them more power than they had before."

"So why doesn't Franco just name Dom and be done with it already?" I still can't figure out why Franco hasn't disowned me—or killed me—if he hates me so much.

"That's a great question," Dutch drawls.

I glance from him to Grey as the two share a look I can't decipher. My body's still wound tight from the questions, and something tells me I'm not out of the woods yet.

"Franco's playing a game of his own," Mia says thoughtfully. "He doesn't do anything without good reason."

"We can't underestimate him," Dutch says, almost reluctantly. "He's remained in power this long because he's smart."

I study Grey, looking for any sign he's on to me.

"If anyone wants out, now's the time to say so," Grey adds. "Because if we're discovered by either side, or if we fail, there'll be no escape. Not like last time." He winces as he adds, "I won't be able to take the heat alone again."

"Bro," Dutch says earnestly, "we don't want you to. That's what I've been saying since you left. I'm with you until the end, no matter what happens. And I don't want you taking any more of my punishments, do you hear me?"

Razor and Crow both offer their agreements.

I think of the way Vincenzo punished Grey just a few short days ago—extra hits because he insisted on taking everyone's share on himself. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to watch. The fact that it wasn't the first time he's done it for them touches my heart and inspires a loyalty no one else ever has.

Ramsey catches my eye, and as if he can read my thoughts, his mouth presses into a hard line and his eyes flash a warning.

I meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to be cowed.

Mia pushes off from the wall, straightening to her full height, which isn't much, but she manages to make it look both regal and terrifying. "You know how I feel, but I'll say it again if you need to hear it. Those two asshole alphas need to be removed, and I'll sleep even better knowing I'm the one who took them out. I agree with Dutch. I can take my own lashes from now on."

Grey grunts. I can tell he doesn't like the idea of letting them take a beating, but he nods then finally turns to Ramsey.

"Bro, I would take the alpha's wrath for us both, you know that," Ramsey says, and I swallow the acid that burns my tongue.

The fucking liar.

Grey is somber as he nods in appreciation, and my entire body fills with revulsion. I do my best to keep my fury buried far beneath the surface of my skin, but I also make myself a promise. No matter what it takes, I will find a way to stop Ramsey Greco from harming these people.

"I agree with the others," I say resolutely enough that all eyes suddenly turn to me, including Grey's. "If it comes down to it, let me take my own punishment."

"Lexi," Grey begins. "You're not exactly strong like the rest of us?—"

"Don't patronize me," I cut in, furious that he's right. "And don't treat me like less than them just because I don't have a wolf," I add, gesturing to the others. "If I'm in this, I'm one of you. An equal. Which means I get to say what happens to me. I get to choose the danger I put myself in. And if I get caught, I'll accept the consequences of those decisions. Not you."

Grey's gaze is a thousand pounds heavier than it was a moment ago, but there's no suspicion, only regret. Finally, he nods, his shoulders sagging even though we all just pledged to die for our cause if necessary. Or maybe that's what he was hoping to avoid when he fought against taking on this war in the first place.

"All right," he says finally. "We're all in this, equal shares."

There's a collective exhale. And I realize the others were worried he wouldn't agree to this. Suddenly, Grey's decision feels like a big step for this group. One they've been waiting for a lot longer than I've been here.

"This war won't be easy." Grey sounds tired. Like he's seen the future and is already exhausted by it. "We're going up against two powerful alphas. Neither of which has ever been even remotely threatened by anyone who tried to take them down, which means it'll take all of us working together if we're going to beat them." He pauses then adds, "Like a pack."

Dutch's eyes go wide. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Grey glances at Ramsey then back at Dutch as he nods. "I think so. I've been feeling it for a few days now."

The others all exchange glances.

"Seriously? When?" Razor asks.

I listen intently, trying like hell to figure out what they're talking about.

"I think it started when we met at the lake house," Grey says. "We made an agreement as a group, and something changed."

"I don't fucking believe it," Dutch says with wonder shining in his gaze.

He looks at Mia, who grins. "Fucking finally."

"Holy shit," Razor mutters.

Ramsey and Crow both look stunned.

"Sorry, um, what exactly are we talking about here?" I finally ask.

"Grey's an alpha," Mia declares.

"Sshh," Razor shushes her.

"What? No one can hear us," she says, her joy undimmed.

" Becoming an alpha," Grey corrects.

I look back at Grey, trying to understand the implications of this development. "You're an alpha…like Vincenzo?"

"Not quite," he says. "My wolf's still transitioning so I don't have the same level of power. Besides, hopefully, I'll never be an alpha like him."

"Right, sorry," I mumble. "I just… Is this common?"

"No," Dutch says, grinning like he just won the lottery. "It's been a long fucking time since this city had another alpha in it." Then his expression clouds. "Wait, do you think the others can sense you?"

Grey shakes his head. "No, I can barely sense it myself. Look, it's not something we can use in our favor—yet. I need time. We need time—to bond."

"Right. We should do a pack run." Razor nudges Crow. "Isn't this crazy? A pack run with just us."

Crow leans forward, clearly interested. I ignore the pang in my gut at knowing I'll be left out.

Grey nods. "We'd have to find a way to do it without the alphas knowing."

"We could really use a hex blade right about now," Razor grumbles.

"We wouldn't need to do a run if we had one of those," Crow says wistfully.

The others murmur in agreement.

"What's a hex blade?" I ask.

"It's a magical blade that binds souls through a loyalty pledge and blood magic," Mia explains. "It makes your pack bond stronger, and therefore, makes the alpha's power stronger."

"It also roots out anyone disloyal," Dutch says. "Compels them to tell the truth. Finding Trucker would've been a hell of a lot easier with one of those."

His words stab fear into my gut. "Does Franco or Vincenzo have a hex blade?"

"Franco outlawed them," Crow says. "He realized it would be too easy for others to gain power with the help of a blade. And he couldn't have that kind of threat to his position. Anyone found with one is executed."

Horror and relief swirl in equal parts inside me.

Ramsey smirks, clearly better than me at pretending a hex blade wouldn't be his absolute ruin. "He only outlawed them when his got snatched. Sore loser, if you ask me."

"Snatched by who?" I ask.

"They say the hexerei came and took it back when they saw Franco's corruption," Mia says. "Anyway, now the alphas have to rely on sheer numbers rather than the strength of a loyalty pledge. But it's not as strong as a soul binding with a hex blade."

"Even if we had one, my wolf isn't ready for that yet," Grey says. "The alpha change doesn't happen overnight. In the meantime, we still need to work our plan from all angles."

"Hell yeah." Razor hits his fist against his open palm. "Where do we start?"

"For now, we do this slow and methodical," Grey says, shaking his head to cut off whatever violence Razor's about to propose.

"Slow and methodical?" Razor repeats. "What the hell does that mean?"

"This war won't be won with violence. Not entirely," Grey says, and Razor closes his mouth with a huff. "These days, blood is drawn with words as much as weapons."

"You want to fight politically," Mia says, a gleam in her eye.

Grey nods. "For starters. We need to win public favor to our side."

"That sounds boring as fuck," Ramsey complains.

I roll my eyes. He probably means it won't make for juicy intel when he runs back to Franco.

"Yeah, I want to smash heads," Razor adds.

Dutch leans forward, ignoring them. "Your dad and Franco have fought politically for decades, boss. How do you plan to do it better?"

"Politics is about popularity," Mia chimes in. She smiles like she already sees the finish line. "It's just like high school. We start by getting ourselves crowned prom queen."

"Prom queen?" Razor's brows crinkle. "What the fuck? When did we decide to go to prom?"

"It's an expression, you asshat," Crow mutters.

"Oh." Razor looks like he still doesn't get it.

"We earn the favor of the people," Dutch says. "Get the public on our side so those assholes are left out in the cold when it all goes down."

Grey nods. "That's where we'll start. This is a long game, not a smash and dash like we're used to." He throws a look at Razor, who huffs.

"We need to know Vincenzo's plans too," Mia says. "We can't afford any surprises from him."

Grey nods. "Let's use the access we do have to our fathers to find out what we can."

"Grey's right, boys," Dutch says. "We're playing chess, not checkers. At least until our fearless leader here is strong enough to challenge Vincenzo for alpha. After that, it's check-fucking-mate for Franco."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," I say. "But winning the public over seems like an easy task. Neither Vincenzo nor Franco are particularly likeable. And Vincenzo's already ordered me and Grey to use our date tonight to schmooze the media."

"Exactly," Mia says almost gleefully. "Vincenzo will think we're following his orders until… boom . We'll turn all those people to our side. He'll have to watch his people become our people—right under his nose. By the time he realizes our pack is bigger than his, it'll be too late."

Grey nods, his eyes glittering with the promise of the future he's painted. "As long as we stick together, nothing can stop us."

I swallow hard, trying not to think about what will happen to Grey when it all falls apart.