Mated to the Mafioso

[ 5 ] - The Wolfman

[ D A N T E ]

"It's done, Dad."

He's in his office, because of course he is. Curled forward, typing away, lights dim, screen bright. He doesn't even bother to look at me.

"Fang says youse let a girl get away."

That asshole—he couldn't keep his lips shut?

"She was some kind of shifter. She's on our side, and she was outside anyway, so—"

"My boy." Dad stands. He's a monster of a man, perpetually wolfish, perpetually giant, eyes red, giant hands as claws, mouth half-stuck as a maw. I take a step back, heart fluttering. "Naw, don't run from me. Come closer." His heavy voice thickens with a Capital-C Commandment. And as alpha of the pack, I can't disobey him when he barks out Commands. I've inherited that gift—or curse. It works best on my pack, but I can command others, too—with varying levels of success.

Like the woman from my dream.

I suck in a breath, and like a magnet, I'm pulled to the desk. Dad chuckles, gesturing for me to get behind it. My body follows. I watch him, because there's nothing else I can do.

He crouches forward, squinting, and brushes his paw-fingers across my cheeks, my stubble. I try not to wince. His body burns.

"You're my body and my blood. The only thing I got, because when you came out, you were kicking and screaming, a little wolf already, like me, and you ruined your Mama's body so bad that she could never give birth again."

I remember this story. Dad has always made sure I never live it down.

"You'se my legacy, Dante. All I got." He leaned close to whisper him a secret. "Y'know, peace—it's like stained glass. It's beautiful, decorative: us kings, us alphas, we'll hang it on our walls, pray to the god it represents, let the light behind it tan our skins and warm our furs. But you throw one stone, one small stone, and you shatter it entirely. There are too many stones, and much too little glass."

He's told me this before, when I was young, when I still loved him and and looked up to him and thought he was a capital-GM-Good Man. He ducked down, voice low, like it was a secret only we shared.

And then he repeated what he told me to the pack the day later. Everyone was charmed.

My dad has many secrets, many other women he lusts for; many other children. He has many stones to throw—and many betrayals, handed down.

Like now. Does he not remember how many times he's given that line? He's already broken the glass between us.

His breath is angry. He's expecting me to say something, but I give him nothing.

Because it's all he's ever given me.

"Dante." Dad says after a pause, impatient. "Tell me why you thought it was okay to disobey me."

"We don't have many allies here, not with everyone tightening their belts, the fear campaigns. If we branch out, work with other paranormals—"

"Tell me why you thought it was okay to disobey me!" he snarls, shoving me to the ground. My legs buckle; I collapse with a sharp gasp. The Commandment shudders through me, from my toes to my heart to the tip of my tongue.

"Because I didn't respect your order! Because I don't respect you—"

I try to twist the words, change them, but his will is too strong, and I'm too busy trying to fight the Commandment that I don't even notice the leather shoe that slams against my cheek. I'm thrown back and slam against the wall, reinforced wall unmoving beneath the impact. The room darkens. Pain spreads out from between my shoulder blades. But nothing breaks.