“I do.”
“Do you pledge your allegiance to me and the Lombardi Pack?”
“I do.”
Dominic let his fingers half-shift, thick claws springing from the tips. “Place you palm over the cup.”
Pasquale did as Dominic asked. Swiftly, enough that it didn’t hurt at first, Dominic sliced open his palm. Ruby-red blood welled into the gouge, spilling into the cup.
“Pasquale Bianchi will be a Lombardi wolf and Capo. He shall be second only to me, and he will rule the wolves of the former Bianchi. They will no longer be called the Bianchi wolves. They will be Lombardi or Pasquale’s wolves. They will no longer be on the outside but will be important to our defenses. He has taken the rite of Omérta and will die if he changes. He will be inked with our blood and our mark.”
Pasquale’s healing kicked in, sealing the cut, and the other wolves also cut their palms and stepped forward to bleed into the cup. Once finished, they passed the cup around, each taking a small sip before one wolf produced a tattoo gun.
“Bare your arm, Pasquale.”
As requested, Pasquale removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt so he could pull out his arm. He stood silently as the gun traced over his skin. A crescent moon with a howling wolf, made in the blood of the head males of the Lombardi, came to life on his skin.
With a nod, the tattoo artist stepped back and went to another little tray of color, this one a brilliant blue.
“He is also an Alpha and will be recognized as such. No man but me may direct him.”
“Yes, Alpha,” the men responded.
The tattoo artist came back and gave Pasquale’s wolf blue eyes.
“The blue is for your people. For your power. As you are an Alpha, Giuliana is now an Alpha mate. She will be afforded the same respect as one should. The only woman of this pack to outrank her shall be Zoey. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Alpha,” they answered.
The tattoo was finished, already healed because of his ability, and Pasquale stood proud. He was accepted. He was Alpha. He was part of a pack.
“One last step, so that we may call you brother,” Dominic warned.
Pasquale knew this one, remembered the pleasure Primo got from ripping him apart and breaking him. Pasquale sank to his feet, a blank mask on his face even as his insides went crazy.
I will protect you, Pasquale. Give over to me.
I have to face it.
Your mind can’t yet. Your Alpha will understand.
Let me try.
Dominic stepped behind Pasquale and raked his claws across Pasquale’s back. The fire burned, pressing deep. Skin split, the fire spreading through Pasquale’s insides.
But then Dominic was finished, and another brother was there.
Pasquale opened shocked eyes. They weren’t ripping to the bone. They weren’t trying to abuse him. While the swipes hurt, they didn’t cripple him.
He looked up, and his gaze clashed with Dominic’s.
“I am not your father,” Dominic whispered.
Pasquale stayed like that, his gaze locked on his Alpha as every wolf in the room added their mark to his skin. At their depth, nothing would scar. It was an honorary act to show he wouldn’t fight his people; he wouldn’t retaliate out of anger and rage. He’d accept, this one time, being on his knees before them.
We have a good home, Snow added.
Yes.
