Chapter 7
Gianna Marino
I pressed myself into the corner of the large, extravagant room, knees tucked against my chest, trying to steady my breath.
The door swung open without warning.
Alessio walked in.
Gone was the man who looked at me softly at the bar, the man who had held me from falling twice. This man was furious. His rage filled the room even before he said a word.
"Was this part of your big plan?" he asked coldly, and I wanted to respond—say something, anything—but the warning echoed in my head.
'Keep your mouth shut.'
"Did you know all along and decide to use me for your little game?" he growled, closing the distance between us. My lips parted slightly, but I said nothing. The woman's warning rang louder.
'Don't provoke him. If you want to live, don't speak.'
My eyes dropped to his shirt—and froze. Blood.
Dark, fresh, and smeared across his front. My stomach twisted in horror.
He looked unfazed. Either he purposely came to interrogate me with the blood on his shirt or he didn't mind walking around with the evidence of his murder, fresh.
Before I could react, his hand snapped out and wrapped around my neck, pinning me to the wall with force. My feet barely touched the ground.
"You dealt with the wrong person," he hissed, his voice lower than a whisper but more terrifying than a scream.
"You're going to tell me everything Dmitri is plotting against me. If you don't know, I'll take your limb, then your fingers and arms, until there's nothing left. Then I'll feed your body to the pigs."
His breath brushed against my skin like poison, cold and full of wrath.
I struggled, gasping for air, clawing at his hand. My vision began to blur.
'He is death. None of his enemies survive him.'
Her words came crashing back to me. The woman in the hallway. The one who helped me bathe. The one who told me not to speak. That no one left this place the same.
And now, I understood.
I wasn't the first. I might not even survive to be the next.
Just when the darkness was beginning to take over, someone knocked. One of his men opened the door slightly and muttered something urgent.
Alessio released me with a low growl and stormed out of the room.
I collapsed to the floor, gasping and clutching my throat, tears streaming down my cheeks uncontrollably.
In that moment, I didn't feel strong. I didn't feel clever. I felt like prey caught in a hunter's cage.
The woman's voice echoed again in my memory.
"If you want to live, then you will not speak to him."
I stayed on the cold marble floor, clutching my throat as the burn of his grip lingered like a brand. My tears had slowed, but my chest still heaved.
This was what it felt like to be prey. Trapped. Stripped of power. Choking on fear.
But how long will I live in fear?
I wasn't always like this—trembling and cornered.
I was born the daughter of an Alpha. Gianna Marino. My father once ruled one of the most respected packs in the region. His name used to make people bow. And as his only child, I was meant to carry on his legacy—his blood, his name, his power.
But I was wolfless.
For twenty-one years, I've waited. Waited for the first shift. The first flicker of her presence inside me. Nothing. Not even a whisper.
I watched my mates get their wolves at sixteen and some at eighteen but I waited still, my late father never let me feel less but I knew that a time will come when it will be used against me.
And I wasn't wrong, the moment news got to us that my father, the Alpha of Silverton pack had fallen, I could hear the whispers right there and then.
"So pathetic, and she is wolfless. How will she take over her father's position?"
The only person who didn't bother to ask questions was Beatrice because that weakness was all she needed.
She married my father for his status, and when he died, she moved fast—declared me unfit to lead. She used my missing wolf as an excuse to turn the elders against me, to take control of the pack, and gut my inheritance. The company, the estate, the people who once swore loyalty to my family were gone. Handed to her, like I was never meant to exist.
She didn't stop there. No, she conived with my best friend -- her real daughter -- and my fiance -- a perfect match -- to take my place.
And even that was still not enough. She wants to take my life.
I escaped by a thread—fleeing from her men like a hunted animal—and ran straight into his hands.
Alessio Giordano.
The monster. The beast. The Alpha they say even nightmares fear. I didn't understand what that meant until tonight.
But even as I gasped for breath on that floor, my mind kept racing.
His power… it was real.
The fear he stirred in others, the way Beatrice's men recoiled the moment they saw him—it wasn't a coincidence.
She feared him too.
And now, I was in his den. At his mercy. One wrong move, and I could end up like the others that woman spoke of—dragged in and never seen again.
But I wasn't going to die here.
I refuse to.
Let Beatrice play queen with a stolen crown. Let her think I'm broken, powerless, forgotten. She didn't know what she unleashed the day she tried to kill me.
I would survive.
And I would take back everything that was mine.
I might not have a wolf.
I might not have strength.
But I had something now that Beatrice didn't.
I had him. Maybe not fully because he still thinks of me as an enemy.
But I would find a way to make him see otherwise. I'd make myself useful. I'd play the game carefully. I'd make him see that my enemies are his enemies.
He asked if I was working for Alpha Dmitri. If only he knew how much I hated the mere name.
If he was as dangerous as they say…
Then I would turn that danger into my weapon.
I wiped my face and sat up. The fear wiped from my face replaced with a firm unwavering gaze that was vengeful.
"I have been quiet for so long, following orders here and there like a fucking puppy. It ends now. I will talk and either have to lose my limbs or get my revenge."