Page 29 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

eleven

. . .

Anders Knight stared at the ceiling, mapping escape routes in his mind as the chain draped across his chest. Every muscle in his body hummed with a complex mix of satisfaction and strategic calculation. Ty’s warm weight against him was both unexpected complication and primal satisfaction.

It had been three hours since Ty had fallen asleep in his arms. Three hours of plotting their next move while listening to the little omega’s steady breathing.

Beside him, Conall shifted on his own bed, the chain at his wrist clinking softly against the frame.

The sound drew Anders’ attention to his sworn brother’s face—the tightness around his green eyes, the muscle working in his jaw.

Conall had always been the most expressive of the three of them, his emotions closer to the surface.

“He’s still out,” Conall said, his voice low enough not to disturb their sleeping companion. “Didn’t think he’d actually stay.”

“He was exhausted,” Anders replied, his hand unconsciously tightening around Ty’s waist. The omega stirred in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent before settling again, his face pressed against Anders’ chest.

Wyatt watched them from his position, his stormy eyes cataloging every detail. “This complicates things.”

Anders didn’t need to ask what “things” Wyatt meant. Their escape. Their vengeance. Their future. The boy in his arms represented a variable none of them had anticipated—one that was rapidly becoming more significant than it should be.

“He’s just an omega in heat,” Anders said, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. “A temporary distraction.”

“Is that why your scent changes every time he moves?” Wyatt asked, his quiet voice carrying no judgment, only observation. “Why your heart rate increases when he makes those little sounds in his sleep?”

Anders shot him a warning glance but didn’t deny it. There was no point lying to Wyatt—his sworn brother saw everything, missed nothing.

As if sensing their discussion, Ty’s breathing changed, his body tensing slightly as consciousness began to return. Anders watched Ty’s face as awareness crept in—the slight furrow of his brow, the flutter of eyelashes, the moment of confusion before memory returned.

“Wha—” Ty started, his voice thick with sleep as his eyes opened. He froze when he realized where he was, who he was with. “Shit. I fell asleep.”

“Very observant,” Anders replied, his voice deliberately casual despite the unwanted surge of satisfaction he felt at having the young man wake in his arms. “Your deductive skills are truly remarkable.”

Ty pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing slightly. “Don’t start with me, Mr. Iceflare. My brain isn’t online until I’ve had at least one cup of coffee and a chance to regret all my life choices.”

“And yet your sarcasm function seems to be working perfectly,” Anders replied, his hand still resting possessively on Ty’s hip. “Impressive multitasking.”

“It’s automated,” Ty shot back. “Like breathing or finding myself in life-threatening situations with dangerous alphas. Just happens naturally.”

Conall’s laugh echoed from across the room. “I like him, Anders. Can we keep him?”

“I’m not a stray cat,” Ty said, though his scent spiked with something complex at Conall’s words. “And I should go.”

Anders felt a flash of something dangerously close to disappointment. “Running away already, little mouse?”

“Not running,” Ty corrected, sitting up fully now, the sheet pooling around his waist. “Making a strategic retreat. There’s a difference.”

“And what strategy dictates your retreat?” Anders asked, his hand still resting possessively on Ty’s hip, unwilling to release him just yet.

Ty’s eyes met his, and for once, the omega’s usual defenses were down, revealing something raw and vulnerable beneath.

“Self-preservation. I’m not stupid enough to think this”—he gestured between them—“changes anything. You’re still going to come after me when you get free.

I’m still on your hit list. This was just biology. ”

“Is that what you think this was?” Conall asked, his tone gentler than usual. “Just biology?”

“What else could it be?” Ty replied, but his scent betrayed his uncertainty. “You three are mafia alphas who’ve been forced into captivity, and I’m the omega who… who helped De Luca. There’s no scenario where this ends well for me.”

“Smart mouse,” Wyatt commented, his gray eyes never leaving Ty’s face. “Sees the trap.”

“The trap I’m already in,” Ty corrected, finally pulling away from Anders’ touch.

The chain clinked softly as Anders’ arm fell back to the bed.

“Look, let’s not pretend this was anything more than what it was, a heat-induced lapse in judgment that happened to be mutually satisfying.

Like a really intense one-night stand, except with three alphas and the constant threat of death hanging over my head.

You know, totally normal Tuesday stuff.”

Anders watched as Ty searched for his t-shirt, the omega’s movements betraying his discomfort despite his attempt at nonchalance. There was something almost endearing about his determination to maintain his sarcastic facade even now, naked and marked by three alpha scents.

“You’ll be back,” Anders said, the words more observation than challenge. “Your heat isn’t completely broken.”

Ty paused in the act of pulling on his shirt, his back stiffening. “Maybe. If De Luca forces me. Or if my heat flares up again. But not because I want to be.”

“Liar,” Conall called out cheerfully. “Your scent gives you away every time, little mouse. You enjoyed last night as much as we did.”

“My body enjoyed it,” Ty corrected, turning to face them. “My brain knows better than to get attached to three alphas who are going to hunt me down the minute they break those chains.”

The blunt assessment hung in the air between them, uncomfortable in its accuracy.

“Smart mouse,” Wyatt repeated, something like respect in his quiet voice.

“Not smart enough to avoid this situation in the first place,” Ty said, running a hand through his tousled hair. “But hey, we all have our off days.”

He moved toward the door to his quarters, each step seeming to require effort, as if his body resisted the separation his mind demanded. At the threshold, he paused, glancing back with his usual defensive snark firmly back in place.

“Try not to miss me too much,” he said with forced lightness. “I know how empty your lives must be without my sparkling personality to brighten your dungeon.”

Before any of them could respond, Ty slipped through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

The scent of him lingered, jasmine and honey and something uniquely Ty, mixed now with their own markers, creating a complex blend that stirred something possessive in Anders’ chest.

“Well,” Conall said after a moment of silence, “he’s certainly… something.”

“Afraid,” Wyatt said. “But fighting it.”

Anders stared at the closed door, his jaw tightening. The boy’s attempt at casual departure hadn’t masked the conflict in his scent, the reluctance to leave warring with self-preservation. It changed nothing, and yet, somehow, it changed everything.

“De Luca dies slowly,” he said, the words a promise rather than a threat. “For all of it.”

His brothers nodded in agreement, no further discussion needed. De Luca’s fate was sealed, had been from the moment he’d orchestrated their capture.

The morning brought the usual routine—guards with food, the pretense of weakness, the careful collection of intelligence. Anders maintained his facade of injury as Rodriguez approached with breakfast, letting his body appear more affected than it truly was.

“How are you feeling today, Stefano?” Peters asked.

Anders remained silent, his eyes tracking the nervous movements of Rodriguez as the younger guard offered food. The moment was perfect for another seed of doubt.

“Your boss is getting desperate,” Anders said quietly, his voice pitched so only Rodriguez could hear. “His health is failing faster than he’s letting on. The tremor in his hands, the pallor of his skin. He’s dying, and he knows it.”

Rodriguez’s hand faltered slightly, his eyes darting to the door as if afraid De Luca might be listening. “Shut up and eat.”

“You know I’m right,” Anders continued. “And when he’s gone, who do you think will protect you from what’s coming?”

The guard’s pulse visibly quickened, a tell Anders had been waiting for. “No one’s coming for you.” He allowed himself a small, cold smile. “Everyone has allies, Rodriguez. The Vitale Brotherhood is extensive. Loyal. And they don’t forget those who wrong their leaders.”

“Enough talk,” Peters called. “Hurry it up, Rodriguez.”

Anders fell silent, but the seed had been planted. When the guards finally left, locking the heavy door behind them, Anders exchanged a significant look with his brothers. The chain at his wrist clinked as he shifted position, testing its give.

“Rodriguez is wavering,” Conall noted. “Might be useful.”

“If he doesn’t panic first,” Wyatt cautioned. “Fear makes men unpredictable.”

Anders nodded, acknowledging the risk. Every variable had to be accounted for, every contingency planned. When they broke free, and they would break free, there could be no room for error.

“De Luca first,” he said, returning to their established priority list. “Then his inner circle. Then anyone who participated directly in our capture or confinement.”

“And the omega?” Conall asked, the question hanging in the air between them.

“We keep him,” Anders said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “He’s ours.”

The three exchanged looks of perfect understanding. The omega had unwittingly triggered something primal in all of them, a possessive instinct that wouldn’t be satisfied until Ty Hart was permanently marked as theirs.