Chapter 2 Devil Alpha
Lyra’s pulse still raced long after the words left his mouth.
Welcome to my pack.
She didn’t move. The man who’d saved her…no, captured her stood with that quiet authority that made her wolf shrink inside her. The red glow had faded from his eyes, leaving only cold gray steel. But it was the kind of calm that followed a storm, the sort that could turn deadly without warning.
“Drink,” Dante said, sliding a glass of dark liquid across the table between them. They were in a study now, marble, gold accents, a fire crackling behind him. He didn’t look like a savior or a monster. He looked like both.
“I don’t want anything,” she muttered.
“You don’t get to want.”
Lyra’s stomach twisted. She should have been dead, not sitting across from a mafia alpha whose name made criminals disappear.
“Why am I here?”
He sat back in the leather chair, watching her over steepled fingers. “Because the Scarlatti family wanted you alive. And I like to know why my enemies want the same thing I do.”
“I don’t know them.”
“Try again.”
His tone was soft, but it hit like a slap. Lyra forced herself to hold his gaze. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You lie poorly, omega.”
Her breath caught. Hearing the word on his tongue was intimate, humiliating. She pushed back from the table, but he moved faster, circling her chair. His scent wrapped around her, smoke, steel, the faint edge of wolf.
“Who taught you to hide your scent?” he asked.
“No one.”
He brushed her hair aside, exposing the base of her neck. His thumb grazed the still-healing gland. The touch made her shiver, not from fear but something hotter she refused to name.
“These marks,” he murmured. “Suppression burns. You’ve been dosing yourself for years.”
Lyra bit her lip. “Better that than be hunted.”
“By who?”
“Everyone.”
He let go, stepping back. For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed his face, something like recognition, then gone.
“You think hiding makes you safe,” he said quietly. “It only makes you weak.”
“I am weak,” she snapped. “That’s why I run.”
Silence stretched between them. Then, to her shock, he laughed. It wasn’t kind. “At least you’re honest now.”
He walked to the window. “The Scarlattis have been arming themselves with silver. They killed three of my men last week. Tonight they were hunting you. If you’re not one of theirs, you’re something worse.”
“I told you, I don’t know them!”
He turned, eyes narrowing. “Then tell me why, when I killed them, your wolf whispered their names before you passed out.”
Lyra froze. She hadn’t even remembered speaking.
“I heard you,” Dante said, crossing back to her. “Luciano. Marzio. Two of the men who burned my shipment. How would you know them unless you’d met them before?”
Her throat dried. “I… It was just something I heard on the street.”
He slammed his palm against the table. The glass rattled. “Do not lie to me again.”
Lyra flinched, her own wolf whimpering deep inside. “You think shouting will make me remember something I don’t!”
Something in her voice must have cracked, because his fury shifted to scrutiny. He inhaled slowly, as if tasting her fear, then exhaled through his teeth.
“You really don’t know,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“No.”
“Interesting.”
He turned away, pouring himself whiskey. The tremor in her hands wouldn’t stop. “So what now? You keep me prisoner?”
“Until I know what you are,” he said simply. “And who wants you dead.”
She swallowed. “And if you never find out?”
Dante smiled over his shoulder. “Then you’ll stay here forever.”
Her heart tripped. “You can’t keep me here.”
“Can’t?” He leaned close enough for her to see the faint scar under his jaw. “You forget whose territory you’re in.”
His presence pressed against her wolf, heavy and dominating. Every instinct screamed at her to submit, but another part of her, the part that had survived alone all these years, refused.
“Kill me, then,” she said. “But I won’t crawl.”
For a moment, silence again. Then he chuckled low in his chest. “You’ve got teeth, little omega. I like that.”
Lyra’s cheeks burned. “You’re insane.”
“I’m curious.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “There’s something inside you. Power. I felt it when your blood hit the ground.”
“I have no power.”
“We’ll see.”
He turned away, dismissing her. “You’ll stay in the east wing. Beta Lorenzo will show you the rules. Break any of them, and I’ll break you.”
He started for the door. Desperation clawed through her. “Why do you care?”
“Because,” he said without looking back, “you smell like the curse that ruined my pack.”
The words hit like ice. Before she could ask what he meant, he was gone.
The next hours blurred. Lorenzo, a tall man with a scarred face and scent of iron, escorted her to a room overlooking the dark courtyard. Guards flanked the halls. Cameras followed every step.
“You’ll be safe here,” Lorenzo said, though his tone made the word sound like a joke.
“Safe isn’t the word I’d use.”
He gave a ghost of a smile. “You survived meeting Dante. That’s more than most.”
When he left, Lyra sat on the bed, staring at the city lights through the rain-streaked window. She should’ve been relieved to be alive. Instead, she felt the invisible leash tightening.
Her shoulder throbbed where the bullet wound had been. She pulled the bandage back. Beneath it, faint silver scars shimmered, not normal healing. Something was changing inside her.
“Don’t lose it now,” she whispered. “Just survive the night.”
The door creaked open.
She spun. Dante filled the doorway again, no jacket this time, sleeves rolled, revealing inked veins and the edge of a tattoo that curled like claws around his wrist.
“I said I didn’t want company,” she snapped.
He stepped inside anyway. “I wasn’t asking.”
He tossed a small pendant onto the bed. “Wear it. It masks your scent better than those herbs you burned.”
Lyra eyed it suspiciously. “Why help me?”
“Because if they track you here, I’ll have to kill half the city. That’s inconvenient.”
Despite herself, a small huff of laughter escaped. “Charming.”
His gaze flicked to her mouth. “Careful, omega. I might start thinking you enjoy provoking me.”
Her pulse jumped. “You think too highly of yourself.”
He moved closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. “Do I?”
The air thickened. Her wolf stirred, drawn to his power even as her mind screamed no. She backed until the wall met her shoulders. He caged her in without touching her.
“You don’t have to fear me,” he said, voice low.
“I don’t.”
“Liar.”
He dipped his head….his breath brushed her ear. “Fear smells sweet on you.”
The words burned through her like fire. She hated him for it, for the way her body betrayed her with every quickened heartbeat.
“Stay away,” she whispered.
“I’m trying,” he admitted, and for a fleeting second there was honesty in his tone, something raw, almost human. Then it vanished.
He straightened, breaking the spell. “Tomorrow, you’ll answer questions for my council. Don’t waste my time.”
She exhaled shakily once he left, sliding down the wall. The pendant lay heavy in her palm.
“Devil,” she muttered.
Outside, thunder rolled across the city.
Down in the courtyard, Dante stood alone under the rain, eyes lifted to the blood-red moon hidden behind clouds. Lorenzo approached quietly.
“You think she’s the one?”
“She’s hiding power,” Dante said. “And the Scarlattis wanted it.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then she dies.”
He turned his face to the sky, rain streaking down like tears he’d never admit to shedding. “But if I’m
right… she’s the key to ending this curse.”
Lorenzo hesitated. “And if the curse ends?”
Dante’s lips curved into something between hope and threat. “Then nothing will stop my wolf.”