Last to Love by Alexa Whitewolf

Author:Alexa Whitewolf [Whitewolf, Alexa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alexa Whitewolf
Published: 2019-12-30T16:00:00+00:00

∞ ∞ ∞

∞ Fratello ∞

“A friend is a brother who was once a brother.”

-Unknown-

Lucas

Hours later, I stir. Must have fallen asleep, as the side of my face leaning on the wall is caked with dry blood. In a corner of the cell, slipped through the bars, is a bowl with stale water. Like a damn dog.

Still, I reach for it and splash it on my face in an effort to clean up. My entire body is tense with pain, and I cringe with every small movement. But I won’t let my father see my weakness. He sent his men rather than come to me himself because he’s afraid.

Bene. He should be. Because after last night, it’ll be no holds barred.

I lean my head back against the wall. My thoughts go to Monica. Even in my beat up state, it annoys me that my body yearns for her. It was her voice I’d been dreaming about, her cry that woke me up.

This place... I need to get out. But not yet. Not until I have answers. There’s something else going on here. Even so far removed from the rest of the house, I can feel an evil at bay, a sense of something not right. And whatever it is, I have to figure out the truth behind it.

Not for me – that’s already too late. But I won’t let my father drag anyone else down with me.

Hours later, my wounds feel better. Whether it’s the chimera blood or my wolf’s resilience, I’m able to move around the cell. When I’m sure no one’s around, I bend my knees and aim a few punches at the air. The rattle of the chains is loud, but I need the movement, the pain and tear of my muscles to keep me focused on something else but this annoying yearning inside me.

Is Monica even alive? The last I’d seen, she went falling like a rock. I don’t know what that means. If my wolves found her, will they believe she didn’t get me kidnapped on purpose? For a moment, I thought she had. I wanted to hate her. But her expression of genuine surprise keeps flashing in my mind, and I cannot deny her innocence in that particular development.

A snort escapes me and I stop mid-punch, stretching out my neck muscles. Innocente, Monica? I may have known her for only a week, but there’s no way those two words go together.

After I’m done with my warm up, I get back to the ground, and try to analyze the problem from all angles. Without more information, I’m running blind. And while I thought my father would come in the morning and gloat, there’s no sign of him.

More time goes by, and it’s almost evening yet I still haven’t heard peep from anyone. This won’t do – I won’t be getting in Alessandro's head unless I speak with him. With a groan, I get up from the floor I’d reverted to and kick the cell’s bars.

Footsteps come resounding – two wolves, in the black attire I’ve come to recognize as a uniform.

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