Page 68 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

The apartment was small but meticulously clean, thanks to their regular maintenance. The living space remained sparsely furnished despite their additions: a new throw blanket here, a better lamp there, small improvements that wouldn’t raise Ty’s suspicions.

Conall moved immediately to the kitchen, unpacking the fresh groceries he’d brought. “Our little mouse barely touched yesterday’s pasta,” he said with a frown, examining the leftovers in the refrigerator. “Still not eating enough.”

“Stress,” Anders replied, though concern flickered across his features. Unlike his usual controlled demeanor, these visits to Ty’s space revealed a softer side to the Trinity leader, a tenderness reserved only for their omega.

Conall nodded, arranging fresh fruits in a bowl.

Wyatt moved to the bedroom, drawn there as he was every visit.

The room held the strongest concentration of Ty’s scent—jasmine and lilies with the subtle sweetness that had captivated all three alphas from the beginning.

He stood in the doorway, inhaling deeply, his usually impassive face softening almost imperceptibly.

“Misses him,” Anders said quietly to Conall, watching their third.

“We all do,” Conall replied, his usual charm subdued by genuine emotion. “Three weeks of this… it’s torture of a different kind.”

Anders couldn’t disagree. These visits to Ty’s apartment were both balm and torment—surrounding themselves with their omega’s scent while denying themselves his presence. The distance was strategic but painful, a necessary sacrifice for their long-term goal.

Anders joined Wyatt in the bedroom, both alphas drawn to the center of Ty’s personal space. The mattress they’d replaced last week was still new enough to hold their combined scents beneath Ty’s, creating a layered effect that satisfied something primal in all of them.

All three alphas moved through their established routine.

Wyatt straightened the bedding with military precision before deliberately running his wrists along the pillowcase, marking it with his scent.

Anders did the same with the sheets, while Conall focused on the throw blanket at the foot of the bed.

“He slept better last night,” Conall noted, having reviewed the morning’s surveillance report. “No nightmares. First time since we found him.”

A satisfied rumble emerged from Wyatt’s chest—the closest he typically came to verbose expression.

“Our scent helps him,” Anders said, pride evident in his voice. “His body remembers safety with us, even if his mind resists.”

“His mind would resist less if we simply claimed him now,” Conall pointed out, not for the first time. “I miss his fire. His sharp tongue.” His expression grew wistful. “The way he’d fight even when surrounded.”

“Soon,” Anders promised, his hand resting on Conall’s shoulder in rare physical reassurance. The three sworn brothers shared not just their obsession with Ty but the pain of separation.

Wyatt moved to the nightstand, his attention caught by the framed photograph—Ty with an older man, both smiling in front of a bakery. He touched the frame with unexpected gentleness, a gesture so tender it revealed volumes about the taciturn alpha’s feelings.

“Father,” he said simply, identifying the man in the photo.

“The one De Luca threatened,” Conall added, his expression darkening. “Another debt the old man will pay.”

Anders watched as Wyatt carefully adjusted the photo’s position, the precise movement betraying how much their stoic brother cared. Unlike Anders’ calculated possession or Conall’s expressive desire, Wyatt’s feelings manifested in these small, protective gestures—quiet but no less profound.

“Mrs. Patel reports he’s still not baking,” Conall said, changing the subject as he returned to the kitchen. “Not once since he’s been here.”

“Trauma,” Anders replied, following him. “De Luca stole more than his freedom.”

“We’ll give it back,” Conall declared with fierce determination. “Everything the old man took. His joy. His confidence.” He arranged fresh flowers in the vase they’d brought last week—lilies.

Wyatt emerged from the bedroom, holding one of Ty’s shirts.

He pressed it to his face, inhaling deeply.

Neither of the others commented—they understood.

Each coped with the separation differently: Anders through strategic planning, Conall through talking about their little mouse, and Wyatt through these silent, sensory connections.

“New security protocols for tonight,” Anders said, bringing them back to the immediate concerns. “The restaurant incident changes things. Other alphas have noticed him.”

Conall’s expression hardened. “They won’t be a problem again.”

“No,” Anders agreed. “But we increase surveillance regardless. No one approaches him without our knowledge.”

Wyatt nodded once, replacing Ty’s shirt exactly as he’d found it. His attention to detail ensured their presence remained undetected, a necessity until they were ready to reveal themselves.

“Mrs. Patel will be here soon,” Conall noted, checking his watch. “She likes to ‘accidentally’ run into me during our visits. I think she’s hoping to matchmake.”

A rare smile crossed Anders’ face. “If she only knew.”

“Woman’s intuitive,” Wyatt commented, surprising them both with the observation. “Suspects more.”

“But plays along,” Conall agreed. “Sees how much we care for him, even if she doesn’t understand the full picture.”

Anders moved to the door, his hand lingering on the frame. Leaving was always the hardest part of these visits—walking away from their omega’s space, back to the emptiness of waiting.

“Tonight,” he said, the word both promise and command. “After the Vitale meeting.”

The others nodded, understanding the unspoken plan. They would return after dark, as they did most nights, to watch over their sleeping omega from the shadows. Another ritual in their careful campaign of reclaiming what was theirs.

As they prepared to leave, each alpha made one final gesture of possession—Anders straightening a book on the shelf, Conall adjusting the flowers to perfect symmetry, Wyatt silently touching the doorframe where Ty’s height had been marked years ago.

Small claims. Tender markers. Promises of return.

“When we’re finished with De Luca,” Anders said, his voice dropping to a register that revealed the depth of his feeling, “when we’ve made him pay for daring to use us, to use what’s ours… we’ll come for our omega. And this time, there will be no escape.”

The words weren’t just Anders’ vow but a promise from all three, a shared determination that burned equally bright in each alpha’s heart.

The Vitale estate sprawled across ten manicured acres at the edge of the city, its Mediterranean architecture a testament to the family’s Sicilian roots.

As the Trinity’s car passed through the wrought-iron gates, Anders noted the enhanced security—additional guards, new surveillance cameras, reinforced checkpoints.

The bombing at the Montecito had left everyone more cautious.

They were greeted at the entrance by Marco Vitale, who led them through the mansion’s opulent interior to Stefano’s private study. The room was classic old-world wealth—leather-bound books, oil paintings, furniture that had likely been imported from European castles.

Stefano Vitale rose from behind his desk as they entered, his dark eyes assessing as always. At thirty-six, he carried himself with the authority of someone born to command, his tailored suit and perfect posture projecting power without effort.

“Knight,” he greeted, extending his hand. “O’Reilly. Slater. Good to see you fully recovered from De Luca’s treachery.”

Anders shook his hand firmly. “Vitale. Your brother mentioned the Corsinis would be joining us.”

“They’re already here,” Stefano confirmed, gesturing toward a door that led to an adjoining room. “Shall we?”

The conference room beyond was dominated by a massive oak table, around which sat the Corsini leadership.

Enzo Corsini, the syndicate’s founder, stood as they entered, his dark-blue eyes cold but respectful.

His younger brother Dante remained seated, barely looking up from his tablet, while their third brother Alessio, the family’s enforcer, watched the newcomers with predatory focus.

“The Trinity arrives,” Enzo said, his tone neutral. “Now we can begin.”

The seating arrangement was strategic—Vitales at one end, Corsinis at the other, Trinity in the middle. A physical representation of their current alliance dynamics.

“Gentlemen,” Stefano began once everyone was settled, “we all know why we’re here. De Luca’s actions have become intolerable. First the bombing at the Montecito, then the kidnapping and forced breeding attempt on the Trinity. He’s declared war on all of us.”

“A desperate move by a dying man,” Enzo added, his contempt evident. “De Luca’s organization is crumbling. His territories are vulnerable.”

“Which brings us to the purpose of this meeting,” Stefano continued. “Coordinated action to eliminate De Luca and divide his assets appropriately.”

Anders leaned forward slightly. “Our intelligence suggests De Luca has retreated to his compound on the north side. Security has been increased, but nothing our combined forces couldn’t handle.”

“Why not simply eliminate him quickly?” Dante Corsini said, looking up from his tablet. “A bullet is efficient. His organization is already crumbling without proper leadership.”

“Because a bullet would be merciful,” Anders replied, his voice like ice. “And what he did deserves anything but mercy.”

Conall leaned forward, his usually charming demeanor replaced by something darker. “We have special plans for De Luca. The same dungeon he kept us in will serve nicely for his… retirement.”

“The guards too,” Wyatt added, the rare contribution drawing everyone’s attention. “All of them.”

The naked vengeance in their tones shifted the atmosphere in the room.

This wasn’t business anymore—it was personal.

Behind his controlled exterior, Anders’ mind filled with images of Ty—frightened, used, forced to participate in De Luca’s sick breeding scheme.

The old man would pay for every moment of fear their little mouse had endured.

“We want him alive,” Anders clarified. “Functional enough to understand exactly why he’s suffering. To know it was his own actions that brought him to this end.”

Alessio Corsini nodded with grim understanding. “Your captivity was… unfortunate. Our intelligence suggests De Luca used a male omega in his breeding attempts. Rare commodity.”

Anders’ jaw tightened imperceptibly, possessiveness flaring hot and immediate. “The omega is not up for discussion.”

“With all due respect,” Dante Corsini interjected, “if he’s part of De Luca’s organization?—”

“He’s not,” Anders cut him off. “He was a captive, same as us. And he’s ours now.”

The possessive declaration hung in the air, heavy with meaning. The other families exchanged glances, recognizing the alpha claim for what it was.

“Understood,” Stefano said smoothly. “The omega is Trinity territory exclusively. Now, to the division of De Luca’s actual assets…”

The discussion turned technical then—territories to be divided, assets to be seized, logistics of the assault on De Luca’s compound.

Dante presented digital blueprints of the facility, while Marco outlined potential security measures they’d encounter.

Alessio detailed the manpower each organization could contribute.

“We need the compound intact,” Anders specified. “The underground facilities particularly. De Luca’s private quarters and the… medical areas.”

Enzo Corsini raised an eyebrow. “You intend to use his own facilities against him.”

“Poetic justice,” Conall replied with a cold smile. “The chains he used to hold us will serve their purpose again.”

“And the doctor?” Stefano asked.

“Special accommodations,” Wyatt said simply, his gray eyes revealing a storm of contained violence.

The other mafia leaders nodded in understanding.

In their world, betrayal demanded retribution, and what De Luca had done to the Trinity went beyond simple business conflict.

He had violated fundamental codes of conduct—kidnapping fellow leaders, forcing breeding, attempting assassination.

Such actions couldn’t go unanswered without inviting further challenges.

As the planning progressed, Anders remained focused on the task at hand, but his thoughts occasionally drifted to their omega.

Their surveillance team had reported that Ty had returned to his apartment safely after work.

He would be sleeping now, surrounded by their scent, unconsciously responding to their claim even from a distance.

The thought sent a surge of satisfaction through Anders’ chest, followed by an ache of longing so intense it was almost physical.

“Knight,” Stefano’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Your thoughts on the timeline?”

“Two weeks is sufficient,” Anders confirmed. “My team will coordinate with yours on the specifics.”

The meeting concluded with the timeline established—two weeks of intelligence gathering and preparation, followed by coordinated strikes against De Luca’s remaining operations, culminating in an assault on his compound.

As they prepared to leave, Stefano extended his hand to Anders. “The Trinity has our full support in this. De Luca’s actions cannot go unanswered.”

Anders shook the offered hand, his grip firm. “We appreciate the alliance. When this is done, territorial boundaries will be redrawn to everyone’s satisfaction.”

As they walked toward their waiting car, Conall fell into step beside Anders. “The Vitales seem particularly invested in this alliance.”

“They recognize an opportunity,” Anders replied. “De Luca’s fall benefits everyone at this table.”

“Except De Luca,” Wyatt added with rare dark humor.

Anders didn’t smile, but satisfaction glinted in his ice-blue eyes. “Two weeks,” he said as they slid into the car. “Two weeks until De Luca pays for what he did. And then…”

“And then we claim what’s ours,” Conall finished, his green eyes darkening with anticipation.

Anders looked out at the city lights, somewhere among them their omega slept, unaware of how close they were, how carefully they were preparing for his return.

“Yes,” he agreed softly. “We claim what’s ours.”