Page 2 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

one

. . .

The copper scent of blood filled my nostrils, making my stomach lurch. My father’s crumpled form lay motionless on the concrete floor, his face barely recognizable beneath the swelling and bruises. Each labored breath he took whistled through his broken nose, the only sign he was still alive.

“I’ll ask one more time, Mr. Hart.” De Luca’s voice slithered through the warehouse, smooth as oil and just as toxic. “Where is the money?”

I strained against the arms holding me back, my wrists raw from the rope binding them behind my back. “We don’t have it! I’ve told you a dozen times already!”

The aging don circled my father’s body with the casual interest of a vulture eyeing a not-quite-dead meal.

His expensive Italian shoes clicked against the concrete, the sound echoing in the cavernous space.

Despite his years, Giovanni De Luca carried himself with the confidence of a man accustomed to having his orders followed without question.

His silver hair gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, a stark contrast to the darkness in his eyes.

“Such a shame.” De Luca sighed, nudging my father’s ribs with the tip of his shoe. “He’s quite respected in his community. A master baker, I’m told.”

A whimper escaped my father’s lips at the contact, and I renewed my struggles.

“Stop it! Please!” My voice cracked. “He was just trying to save our bakery. He needs help, not?—”

The back of De Luca’s hand connected with my cheek, snapping my head to the side. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and I tasted blood.

“What he needs,” De Luca hissed, leaning close enough that I could smell the mint on his breath, “is to pay what he owes me. With interest.”

One of his men, a hulking brute with knuckles that looked like they’d been broken and reset multiple times, stepped forward, cracking his joints in anticipation.

“No, no, no.” De Luca waved him off, his eyes never leaving my face. “Not yet, Antonio.”

De Luca circled me slowly, his calculating gaze dissecting every inch of me. “Perhaps there is a way you could help your father, Mr. Hart.”

My breath caught. “Anything. Just don’t hurt him anymore.”

His lips curved into a smile that never reached his eyes. “So eager to sacrifice. How touching.” He stopped directly behind me, close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck. “I wonder what you might be willing to offer. What you might be hiding.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders, fingers digging painfully into my flesh. I tried not to flinch as he leaned in, his nose nearly touching the sensitive skin below my ear.

“You’ve been using blockers, haven’t you?” he whispered, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “But they can’t quite mask everything. Not to someone who knows what to look for.”

Ice flooded my veins. I’d been using scent blockers religiously since I was fourteen, desperate to hide my status in a world that saw male omegas as rare commodities to be claimed and controlled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied, the words sticking in my throat.

De Luca chuckled, the sound crawling across my skin. “Come now, let’s not play games. Not when your father’s life hangs in the balance.” His fingers traced up my neck to my jawline, forcing my head back until our eyes met. “You’re an omega, aren’t you? A male omega.”

The words hung in the air between us, and I saw the hunger in his eyes sharpen into something calculated and cruel.

“Tell me the truth,” he demanded softly, “and perhaps we can come to an arrangement that benefits us both.”

“Yes,” I whispered, defeat and terror mingling in my voice. “I’m an omega.”

His smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp in the warehouse’s harsh lighting. “You see? Honesty feels better, doesn’t it? And as it happens, you possess exactly what I need most right now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, though the predatory gleam in his eyes told me I wouldn’t like the answer.

“Your breeding capability, Mr. Hart,” De Luca replied, his voice silky with satisfaction. “As it happens, I find myself in need of an heir, and you… you’re going to help me acquire one.”

“My breeding capability,” I echoed, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tremor threatening to betray me. “What is this, a livestock auction? Should I be mooing?”

De Luca’s hand slid from my jaw to my throat, not squeezing, but resting there, a reminder of how easily he could cut off my air if he chose to. I swallowed hard against his palm.

“Your humor won’t save you, Mr. Hart,” he said, his voice cold. “And make no mistake, this is business.”

He released me and stepped back, straightening the cuffs of his expensive suit jacket with the self-importance of a peacock. “You see, I find myself in a rather unique predicament. My health is compromising certain functions.” His hand made a vague gesture toward his lower body.

“Performance issues? There are pills for that,” I said before I could stop myself. Self-preservation had never been my strong suit.

His eyes flashed dangerously, but before he could respond, his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, checking the screen with a knowing smile that made my blood run cold.

“Right on schedule,” he murmured before answering.

“Report.” His expression remained unchanged as he listened, but there was an eagerness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Excellent. All three targets confirmed injured but alive?” A pause.

“Proceed exactly as planned. Have the extraction team ready. No mistakes.”

I glanced at my father’s broken form on the floor, then back to De Luca, trying to piece together what was happening. Whatever it was, it clearly brought him joy, which meant it was probably horrific for someone else.

De Luca ended the call and turned to me with the satisfied expression of a chess master who’d just executed a perfect move. “Everything is falling into place, Mr. Hart. The Vitale Brotherhood has just experienced an unfortunate accident.”

“The Vitale Brotherhood?” I couldn’t hide my shock. Even a baker’s son knew about them—the most feared mafia family in the city, led by the notorious Vitale brothers and their consigliere. “What did you do?”

“Let’s just say that a meeting they were attending had an explosive conclusion.” He chuckled at his own joke, the sound sending ice down my spine. “And now Stefano Vitale, Matteo Romano, and Marco Vitale are being transported to Saint Michael’s Hospital, unconscious and vulnerable.”

My mind raced, trying to understand what this had to do with me. Then it clicked, and horror bloomed in my chest, spreading its toxic roots through my entire body.

“You’re insane,” I whispered, eyes wide. “You can’t possibly think?—”

“Oh, but I do think,” De Luca interrupted, circling me. “I’ve been planning this for months. The explosion, timed perfectly. The best alphas in the city, delivered right to me. And now, the final piece”—he tapped my cheek with one bony finger—“a fertile male omega.”

“I’m not some broodmare you can just—” I started, but he cut me off with a sharp gesture.

“You are whatever I say you are,” he snapped. “Your father owes me half a million dollars. His life is forfeit. Yours too, unless you cooperate.”

I wanted to spit in his face, to tell him where he could shove his breeding scheme, but the thought of my father dying on that cold concrete floor stopped me. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.

“Male omegas are so rare,” De Luca continued, his voice taking on that disturbing clinical tone again. “Your fertility rates are remarkably high, especially compared to female omegas. Nature’s compensation for biological improbability, I suppose.”

“Thanks for the biology lesson,” I said. “Next you’ll be telling me about the birds and the bees.”

He ignored my sarcasm. “I need an heir,” he continued. “Someone to carry on my legacy, to take over the cartel when I’m gone. But not just any child will do.” His eyes gleamed with fanatical intensity. “I need one with the right qualities. Strength. Intelligence. Power.”

“Alpha qualities,” I said flatly, the full horror of his plan crystallizing in my mind.

“Precisely.” His smile sliced through me, cold and lethal. “And what better source than the Vitale Brotherhood? One of the most powerful alphas in the city, perhaps the country.”

He moved to a small table in the corner of the warehouse, pouring himself a glass of amber liquid from a crystal decanter with the casual air of a man who’d just closed a routine business deal, not orchestrated multiple kidnappings.

“For months,” he said, swirling the liquid in his glass, “I’ve been laying the groundwork. The breeding facility is prepared. The medical team is standing by. All I needed was the right omega and the right alphas.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “And now I have both.”

A door at the far end of the warehouse opened, and a small man in a meticulously pressed suit entered with the unhurried confidence of someone accustomed to blood and death.

He carried a sleek medical bag, his eyes clinically assessing my father’s prone form with the detached interest of a butcher examining meat.

“You called for me, Don De Luca?” His voice was crisp, professional.

“Ah, Dr. Rossi, excellent timing.” De Luca gestured toward me with his glass. “I need you to examine this young man. Confirm his omega status and assess his fertility. And then prepare for your second assignment, the extraction from Saint Michael’s.”

The doctor approached with the efficient movements of a man who’d done this countless times before. There was no hesitation in his step, no moral conflict in his eyes, just the cold calculation of a professional doing his job.

“Get away from me,” I warned as he came closer. “I’m not a lab rat for your twisted experiments.”

Dr. Rossi didn’t even acknowledge my protest, simply looking to De Luca with an expectant expression.

“Antonio, Vito, hold him still,” De Luca ordered.