Page 15 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

seven

. . .

Anders Knight focused on the pain. The iron cuff around his wrist was a constant reminder of their captivity, the chain rattling softly whenever he moved.

Not the injuries from the explosion, those were healing with the preternatural speed that had always marked him and his sworn brothers as dominant alphas.

The bruises that should have lasted weeks were already fading to yellow, the deep lacerations knitting closed at a rate that would astonish medical professionals.

It was a trait they’d all shared since childhood, this ability to recover from wounds that would keep ordinary men bedridden for months.

Wyatt had once taken three bullets during a territory dispute and been back overseeing operations within days.

Conall had survived a rival family’s car bomb that should have killed him, walking away with injuries that healed before their revenge plan was even set in motion.

No, the real pain was the burning restraint of playing weak when every instinct demanded action. The controlled rage at being imprisoned, drugged, and treated like breeding stock simmered beneath his skin, fueling his determination rather than clouding it.

Pain kept his mind sharp. Pain was clarity. Pain was control.

He inhaled slowly, filtering through the cocktail of scents that filled their prison.

Antiseptic from their initial treatment.

The lingering cologne of Giovanni De Luca, who visited daily to observe them like specimens in a lab.

The beta guards’ unremarkable scents, betraying their nervousness whenever they approached them.

And underneath it all, the unmistakable sweetness of omega in heat.

Ty Hart’s jasmine and lily fragrance had intensified since yesterday, taking on notes of honey and sweet musk that signaled his heat’s progression.

The scent clung to everything now, seeping through the ventilation system, under the door, embedding itself in the very walls of their prison.

“I’m going to tear De Luca apart with my bare hands when I get free,” Conall growled from his bed, his usual charm replaced by cold fury. “Piece by fucking piece.”

“One bullet,” Wyatt replied, his quiet voice carrying a lethal promise.

Anders said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.

Of the three, his rage burned coldest, most calculated.

The old don had made the gravest mistake of his life.

Not just for the kidnapping, that alone would have earned him a swift death, but for the violation of attempting to use them as breeding stock against their will.

“De Luca’s desperation makes him sloppy,” Anders finally said, his voice a low rumble. “The doctor who checked our vitals this morning, did you notice his hands?”

“Trembling,” Wyatt confirmed. “Afraid.”

“As he should be,” Conall added with a predatory smile that held none of his usual warmth. “They all should be.”

“Two guards. Six-hour rotation. Fat one drinks,” Wyatt murmured.

Anders nodded once in acknowledgment. “The old man’s health is deteriorating faster than he’s letting on. Did you catch his breathing yesterday? The rattle in his chest?”

“Explains his desperation for an heir. For our genetic material,” Conall said.

The thought made Ander’s jaw clench, rage flaring hot before he banked it back to a controlled burn. The idea of being used, of having his legacy stolen, violated something fundamental in his alpha nature.

“Shift change,” Wyatt said, his eyes tracking the movement of shadows. “Left side weakness.”

The micro-communicator hidden beneath Anders’ pillow vibrated once, the signal that their security team had successfully infiltrated another level of De Luca’s compound.

When they’d made contact yesterday morning, slipping the device to Anders during a guard change, their message had been clear: extraction was possible within twenty-two hours.

But Anders had made the strategic decision to remain in place. To gather intelligence. To understand De Luca’s operation from the inside before dismantling it completely.

What he hadn’t anticipated was Ty Hart.

“He’ll be back,” Conall murmured, his voice carrying the rough edge of alpha desire despite his anger. “The little taste we gave him yesterday won’t be enough.”

“Not nearly enough,” Anders agreed, his voice betraying more of his anticipation than he’d intended. “He’ll need more. And he’ll hate himself for wanting it.”

That was the most delicious part, the omega’s self-loathing coupled with desperate need.

The way Ty fought his own biology even as it betrayed him.

Most omegas Anders had encountered either embraced their nature without question or resented it silently.

None had ever challenged him so directly while simultaneously responding so perfectly to his touch.

“You enjoyed him,” Wyatt said.

Anders didn’t deny it. What would be the point? They knew each other too well for such pretenses. “He’s different.”

“Defiant,” Conall added with appreciation. “Even with slick running down his thighs and his body begging for it.”

“And completely untouched until now,” Anders finished, the possessive satisfaction in his tone surprising even himself.

The knowledge that no alpha had claimed the omega before them, that his responses yesterday had been raw and unfiltered by previous experience, stirred something primal in Anders’ blood.

“Trapped prey,” Wyatt noted, watching the door.

The connecting door to the omega’s quarters opened.

The scent hit them first, a concentrated wave of heat pheromones so potent it seemed to change the very composition of the air in the room.

Anders’ body responded immediately, his cock hardening, a growl building in his chest that he only partially suppressed.

Ty Hart stood in the doorway, backlit by the soft glow from his quarters.

Conall’s chain clinked against the bed frame as he shifted for a better view, his green eyes gleaming with amusement and hunger in equal measure.

A full day had passed since their first encounter, and the changes in him were stark and concerning.

The flush had deepened on his pale skin, spreading down his neck to disappear beneath the thin t-shirt he wore.

His pupils were so dilated that his hazel eyes appeared almost black.

His chestnut hair was tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration.

Despite his obvious discomfort, the omega’s chin lifted in that now-familiar gesture of defiance. “Don’t all get up at once,” he drawled, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the breathless quality of his voice. “I know you’ve been eagerly awaiting my return.”

Anders felt his lips curve into a predatory smile.

The little mouse still had his claws out, even as his body betrayed him.

“Eager might be overstating it,” he replied, his voice deliberately casual despite the hunger coursing through him.

“Though I admit to some curiosity about how long you’d last before crawling back. ”

A flush that had nothing to do with his heat spread across Ty’s cheeks, but he held Anders’ gaze with surprising steadiness. “Crawling implies desperation. I prefer to think of this as a strategic retreat from my principles.”

“Call it whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” Conall interjected. “Your scent tells a different story.”

Ty’s attention shifted to Conall, his expression sharpening with irritation. “My scent isn’t exactly under my control at the moment, as you well know. But please, continue making observations about my biology. It’s not like I live with it every day or anything.”

The sarcasm in his tone only heightened Anders’ interest. Most people would be too intimidated to speak to them this way, especially in such a vulnerable position. Yet here was this omega, clearly in desperate need yet still maintaining his sharp tongue and quick wit.

“Come here,” Anders commanded, his voice dropping to the register that bypassed rational thought and spoke directly to omega instincts.

He watched with satisfaction as Ty’s body responded instinctively—a slight weakening of the knees, a fresh wave of sweetness in his scent, the barest tilt of his head exposing the scent gland at his neck. But the omega’s mind was still his own, still fighting, still challenging.

“Is that how this works now?” Ty asked, moving forward despite his protest. “You snap your fingers and I come running like some trained pet? Should I roll over and beg while I’m at it? Maybe fetch your slippers?”

“If the collar fits,” Anders replied, enjoying the flash of anger that crossed his beautiful features. “Though I imagine you’d look better in a leash than a collar. Something to consider for the future.”

The implication that there would be a future, one where Anders controlled him, wasn’t lost on Ty. His scent spiked with a complex mixture of desire and fear that made Anders’ alpha instincts roar with approval.

“There is no future,” Ty said, stopping beside Anders’ bed. “Just this temporary insanity until De Luca gets what he wants or you escape and kill me. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Anders reached out, wrapping his fingers around Ty’s wrist with deliberate slowness.

The contact sent a jolt of awareness through his system, the boy’s skin was fever-hot, his pulse racing beneath Anders’ thumb.

“So cynical for someone so young,” he murmured, using his grip to tug Ty closer. “Perhaps I have other plans for you.”

Uncertainty flickered across Ty’s features, quickly masked by his usual defiance. “Right. I’m sure ‘torture the omega who helped De Luca’ isn’t at the top of your to-do list. Or wait, maybe it’s filed under ‘recreational activities’ between ‘world domination’ and ‘brooding menacingly.’”