Chapter 15: Gia's New Partner

Leo stood firmly at the far end of a weathered pier which extended out into the darkness of Puget Sound, boots scraping against salt-fretted planks, their splintered edges worn smooth by rain and salt over decades, creaking softly as he shifted beneath their weight with each change of position. The air was heavy—brine stung his nostrils, acrid and biting, mixed with the sharp odor of diesel fuel from a red-painted, rusted-out fishing boat moored to the pilings, its hull covered in green slime and peeling red paint that flaked off into the water below. Gulls wheeled overhead, the harsh, throaty calls filling the air, above the low, relentless sound of waves lapping against pilings covered with barnacles to form sprays of white that glowed pallidly in the fading light. A chilly gust of Sound air clutched at his black leather jacket—stiff, wet from the morning drizzle—its wet heaviness straining on his shoulders, its musky scent of damp hide blending with the pier's perpetual odor of spoiled fish and seaweed lodged in the pilings. His chest burned, a furious heat snaking tight around his ribs—damn wolf—damn bond—damn everything—uncoiling deeper, a storm he could not still, a beast he could not hold. He snapped his Zippo open—flame crackled hot on the gray twilight—lit a cigarette, sucked in smoke quickly to steady shaking hands, the ember glowing red in dim light pouring from a sky thick with bruised, rolling clouds. 

His phone lay dark in his pocket—6:12 p.m., March 05, 2025, he'd checked before leaving Ezra's dorm—no vibration since Ezra's confession—"If I do this, Leo… you might not make it"—words that crept into him like the cold seeping through the pier's warped, waterlogged boards, freezing his bones. He rubbed his hand over his jacket—parchment crinkled—crimson throbbed faint through the leather, a heartbeat he couldn't stifle, a chain he couldn't break. He kicked a loose nail—metal rang off a plank, into the black water with a smothered splash—smoke unfurling heavy into the damp air, joining the fishy stench wafting up out of the depths below.

The pier stretched out in front of him—discarded nets bunched in soggy heaps along the sides, their loose ends pearling water, snagged on rusty hooks set into the wood. A line of broken crab pots leaned against a dilapidated shed, its tin roof creaking under rust and neglect, one corner bashed inward, revealing twisted beams covered in cobwebs that stirred in the wind. Shadows lengthened as the sun sank low, casting the distant Seattle skyline in a hazy, serrated line—towers glinting dimly through the fog steaming off the Sound—while the water churned, black and wild, starred with foam that seethed at the pilings like ominous whispers. 

A faded sign dangled from a post—its paint chipped, letters illegible—creaking on rusted hinges with each gust, a rhythmic groan that echoed the unease twisting in his gut. His wolf paced—restless—wild—claws scraping at the edges of his control—alpha fire flickering too close—damn it—emotions roiling—rage—fear—something raw—Ezra’s voice—“Might not survive”—Marco’s taunt—“You will come around”—Vito’s threat—“Downfall’s you”—damn them—stirring it all, yanking the beast awake. The welts on his arms throbbed—deep—red—raw—crisscrossing from the warehouse rage—wolf clawing—bond tightening—damn it—why'd it feel alive—why'd it try to break out? He raked a hand through his wet hair—sticky with sweat—head banged—vision clouded—thoughts tangled—Marco's smile—Ezra's hazel eyes—damn them—wolf snarled—low—deep—damn this—why'd it pull—why'd it claw so hard? His fingers clenched—nails dug into his palms—half-shifted—black tips sharp—blood beaded—red—hot—trickling slow—damn it—couldn't stop—couldn't think—rage seething—bond thrumming—ripping him asunder—thread by jagged thread—piece by jagged piece.

A low rumble pierced the pier's stillness—tires scraped gravel outside the pier's edge—Leo tensed—knife flipped over once—blade caught the faint, glinting off the water's surface—headlights sliced the twilight—two black SUVs arrived, their sleek bodies smeared with mud, engines humming with a guttural rumble that vibrated through the planks. Doors banged—Gia materialized—dark hair plastered back, glistening wet under the weak glow of a sodium lamp casting irregular shadows on a twisted pole—leather jacket reflecting drizzle—smile sharp—damn her—trouble always—flanked by Nick—yellow eyes glinting feral—chain loose, scratching wood—and three more—tattooed—scarred—guns glinting under jackets—Serpents—underground cell—damn it—new players—wolf growled—scent hit hard—blood—steel—threat—pulse leaped—not just anger—damn her—why did it spike so sharp? "Russo," Gia called—voice low—through howl of wind—stepped out onto pier—boots thudded hard—"Still standing?"

—pity"—Nick smiled—scar twisting ugly—chain scraped planks—damn it—alliance—power—Leo spat—spit struck wood, a dark stain on the salt-bleached surface—"Pity?

—try me"

—knife spun—wolf growled—Gia laughed—sharp—biting—"Try?

Not tonight. Say hello to my friends. Serpents. West's done." Leo paced, his boots crunching on the weathered planks of the pier, smoke curling from his cigarette. "Done? Not yet," he snapped, the pier groaning under the howling wind. Serpents spread out, their figures silhouetted against the dark water. Nick, his eyes narrowed, wielded a heavy chain. "Gia's right. West's ours. Crawl or bleed." Damn it, a threat. The wolf snarled within him, a spike of rage and wounded pride. Shit, and her new partner.

Gia's lips curved, a thin smile. "Bleed? You first. Serpents, muscle, mine. Marco's pinned. North's next. You're alone." Shit, the alliance went deeper than he'd thought. Leo kicked a plank, the wood splintering, sending splinters into the air. "Alone? Crew's mine." Nick's yellow eyes shone in the half-dark. "Crew? Dead soon. Damn him, the rage that was a fire in his blood, the bond that was a searing brand that clung. Why did it burn so fiercely? Why had Gia risen so quickly?

The pier bucked as waves splashed into pilings, sending foam flying through the air. Stinging salt-scented spray whipped by their clothes. Serpents, tattooed bodies sporting snakes and skulls, stood poised, guns in their hands. Damn, they were outnumbered. The wolf scratched at his skin, the shift teasing, a burning need to burst free. Why did it burn so intensely?

Gia stepped closer, her breath smoky, her dark eyes locked on his. “Marco’s weak. North, Dante, deal’s dust. Serpents, power. You’re out.” Damn it, the wolf roared, a mix of rage and lust. Leo shoved her back, his voice a snarl. “Out? Fuck you.” His knife flipped into his hand, the blade glinting in the moonlight. Nick swung his chain. “Fuck? Done, Russo.” Damn them. The air was electric, the wood groaning under tension. Serpents, guns at the ready, Gia, her eyes cold. "Done? Watch." Shit, why did it hurt so badly? Why did the wolf snarl so fiercely?

His phone buzzed, the screen lighting up. Leo's eyes widened, his body immobilized. A video, grainy and twisted, played on the screen. Him and Marco, up on the loft, the kiss raw and violent unspooled itself in front of all. Bastard, it had leaked. Whose command was this? What happened then? The treachery a bitter acrid taste on his tongue, shivering horror sliding over him. The video a weapon, a war cry.