The Alpha's Forbidden Oath

Episode Four

Angelo

I’ve never experienced guilt like this.

Not when I left the Santoro pack three years ago. Not even when I severed things with Vincezio, as I knew it would break his heart.

But here I am, standing in that church, seeing Rosalia peering at me with red-rimmed eyes, her voice soft and raw, her fingers drifting over mine before moving away involuntarily —

That was quite another thing.

What the bloody hell is wrong with me?

When I sit in the pew, I still feel the warmth of her hands on my skin. It was no more than a second, not even anything at all, and still my blood ran too hot. The smell of her—wild roses and something softer, something that belongs to her alone—sifts through my senses and my wolf shifts and shakes, not happy.

I fidget, palms planted on my thighs, my body already selling me out. In a church, at a funeral, no less?

I clench my teeth, forcing myself not to think about Rosalia.

I won’t think about what she wore that night, what that black dress did for her, how her dark hair fell around her shoulders, that she’s not the girl I left and went to war with but someone else entirely. I won’t dwell on how she breathed my name—softly, falteringly, like it was coated in something venomous.

And especially, I won’t think of how it would feel if she touched me again.”

Because that’s what my father wanted more than anything, right?

For me to marry her.

I breathe out hard, willing my breath to even out. It’s not a surprise. Vincezio made his wishes clear as I exited. He believed in me, not only with his name and his pack, but his daughter.

“She’ll be your mate, Angelo. You’ll protect her. She’ll be happiest with you.”

But he was wrong.

I told him no then. I’ll tell them no now.

And yet, as she stands alone and stiff on the other side of a darkened aisle while the funeral service drags on, I feel a twist in my chest.

At the cemetery, the wind rips at her dress, sharpens her hair into a whipping haze around her face, and she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t cry. She paces at the edge of her father’s grave like a wolf backed into a corner but refusing to whimper.

I hate that it isn’t me standing next to her.

But I hate that even more that Enzo is.

The sight of him sets my wolf on edge — possessive, protective, furious. His hand hovers a little too close to her back, his stare sharp, calculated.

I don’t trust him.

I never have.

When the last handful of dirt is upturned over Vincezio’s coffin I know exactly what will follow.

And I’m right.

As people begin to depart, a voice behind me pierces the frosty air.

“Angelo Santoro.”

I turn.

It’s Don Rizzo, one of the pack’s elder statesmen, a man whose reach is deeper than most people know. He stands next to a sleek black automobile, guards on either side of him, his dark eyes expectant.

“We need to talk.”

I expected the meeting.

But I didn’t anticipate how quickly they’d race.

The penthouse suite where they’ve all come together is precisely what I expected — extravagant too many times over, crowded with wolves who dreamed their own power into existence inside of blackest shadow.

Six elders sit facing away in a semicircle, whiskey glasses clenched in their hands, their faces unreadable.

And sitting on the far side of the room, looking pale and ill at ease, is a man in a suit that doesn’t quite match the wealth surrounding him.

Vincezio’s lawyer.

My stomach tightens.

“Let’s not blow time,” Rizzo says smoothly, gesturing for me to sit. “We will read Vincezio’s will and then we will talk about how we move forward.”

I sink into the chair, holding my face deliberately blank.

The lawyer coughs and opens a leather portfolio. The first segment is all the mundane specifics — assets, the estate, finances entrusted to Rosalia.

Then his voice shifts.

“And as for the future of the Santoro pack …

The words hit like a hammer.

“It is my desire to have Angelo Santoro ascend to my position as Alpha effective immediately. Moreover, he is to take my daughter, Rosalia Santoro, as his mate. If this union cannot be completed when she turns twenty-one, then, should I die before that time, they should be joined at the earliest possible convenience.”

Silence.

I take a long breath, pushing the tension from my shoulders.

There it is.

The same expectation. The same burden Vincezio attempted to put upon me before.

And just as before, the answer remains the same for me.

“No.”

Rizzo’s eyebrow twitches.

“No?” he repeats, his voice disarmingly steady.

“I spoke to Vincezio about this before I left,” I say flatly. “He knew my answer. He didn’t change his will, but I still hold my position.”

The other elders glance at each other.

“You were so right to be raised by him,” says Rizzo smoothly. “He gave you his name, his trust. This was his final wish.”

“And I respected him. But I won’t take a partner I’m unwilling to have. And I don’t want power.” My voice hardens. “I am not your Alpha.”

Silence stretches.

Then, Rizzo slicks back a knowing sigh.

“Very well,” he murmurs. “Then we’re going to go to option two.”

There’s something about the tone he uses that gets my wolf to sit up and take notice.

Rizzo looks over at the other elders, and they nod.

“The Santoro pack needs a leader,” he continues. “And Rosalia cannot stay unmated forever.” He waits, looking carefully at me. “Andre Romano has proposed himself as her mate.”

My blood goes ice cold.

Andre Romano.

Son of Enzo Romano. The man who always sought what Vincezio would not give him. The man who has waited years for his opportunity to take over this pack.

The man who would break Rosalia before he’d ever allow her to soar.

Rizzo is observing me, and I finally know.

This was never about having a choice.

It was just a matter of making sure I chose the right one.”

They knew that I wouldn’t want power.” But they also knew that I would not leave if it meant giving Rosalia to him.

My fingers curl about my thigh, my claws digging into my palm.

I could leave.

I could walk away, let her take care of herself, let her become some other wolf’s problem.

But I know what would happen should I.

She wouldn’t be safe.

She wouldn’t be free.

And my father’s pack — his whole legacy — would end up in the hands of the very wolves he dedicated his life to keeping from power.”

My jaw tightens.

“There is… one other solution,” I say slowly, steadily, gritting the words out even as my wolf stirs in my chest.

Rizzo leans forward a bit, watching me like a predator who has already decided he’s going to win.

I force myself to breathe.

And then, before I can talk myself out of it, I say the words that will change everything.

“I shall have Rosalia as my mate.”