Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King

Irina’s POV

The large hand reached out and picked up the bright yellow highlighter from the cold brick pathway.

I froze.

My breath hitched sharply in my throat, cutting off my air. Every single muscle in my body locked completely tight. The old, primal terror spiked instantly in my veins, flooding my system with a freezing dread.

I clutched Luka tighter to my chest with my left arm. I curled my entire body forward, wrapping around him like a human shield to protect him from whatever was coming. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart hammering a frantic, sickening rhythm against my ribs.

But the hit never came.

Instead, a voice broke through the crisp autumn wind.

"Here."

The voice was low. Smooth. Completely calm. There was no mockery in it. There was no cruel, laughing edge of a bully looking for cheap entertainment.

I slowly opened my eyes. I blinked hard, trying to clear the thick, humiliating blur of tears from my vision, and looked up.

The first thing I saw was the highlighter, held out patiently toward me.

Then, I looked at the person holding it.

He was crouching on the dirty brick pathway right beside me. He was a student, clearly around my age. He wore a simple dark jacket and a grey sweater. He had thick, slightly messy brown hair that caught the bright, golden afternoon sunlight as it filtered through the shedding oak trees.

But it was his eyes that made my breath catch.

They were a striking, piercing gold.

Not hazel. Not light brown. Pure, warm, striking gold. They were incredibly intense, but they weren’t cold. They were looking at me with a quiet, steady kindness that I was completely unprepared for.

He was incredibly handsome. Strikingly so. The kind of handsome that usually commanded an entire room the second he walked in. The kind of guy who would normally be walking arm-in-arm with the cruel girls who had just kicked my bag. But he wasn’t laughing with them. His jaw was set in a firm, protective line.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

I stared at him, completely in shock. I was utterly paralyzed by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. I couldn’t form a single word. My throat was entirely closed up with unshed tears and the lingering, suffocating humiliation of the lecture hall. I just knelt there on the cold bricks, shivering in the autumn wind, clutching my sleeping baby like a lifeline.

He didn’t push me to speak. He didn’t make a big, loud scene that would draw more attention to us.

He just shifted his weight and held out his large, free hand to me.

"Let me help you up," he said.

I stared at his palm.

I took a deep, shaky breath. I shifted Luka’s weight entirely into my left arm, holding him securely against my collarbone.

Then, I reached out my trembling right hand and placed it gently in his.

His grip was incredibly warm. And shockingly strong. He didn’t yank me. He didn’t pull too hard. He just applied a steady, even pressure, helping me lift my exhausted body up off the cold brick pathway.

My knees wobbled slightly as I found my footing. I quickly pulled my hand back, tucking it tightly against my chest, suddenly feeling extremely exposed and vulnerable under his golden gaze.

"Thank you," I rasped. My voice sounded broken, pathetic, and far too small.

"Don’t thank me yet. Your stuff is still everywhere." He gave me a small, incredibly disarming smile.

He didn’t just walk away after doing his good deed. He crouched right back down onto the dirty bricks.

He reached out and picked up my cheap, scuffed canvas backpack. He dusted off the dirt with his hand. Then, he started gathering my scattered, ruined things.

He picked up my spiral notebooks, carefully wiping a dead leaf off the cover of my heavy anatomy textbook. He grabbed my cheap plastic pens that had rolled into the dirt. He even picked up the spare pacifier and the baby wipes, handling them with complete care. He didn’t look grossed out. He didn’t act like the baby supplies were beneath him.

He just quietly, methodically packed my entire life back into my bag.

I stood there on the pathway, watching him in absolute stun. No one had ever done something like this for me. No one had ever lowered themselves to the ground to help me pick up my broken pieces, except for Mia and Elena. To have a complete stranger do it... it was overwhelming.

Luka whimpered softly against my chest. I gently rubbed his back, swaying side to side to keep him calm. The baby was exhausted from his massive meltdown in the lecture hall, and honestly, my own bones ached with a bone-deep fatigue.

The guy zipped up the backpack, making sure everything was secure. He stood up to his full height—he was quite a bit taller than me—and held the bag out to me by the top loop.

"Here you go," he said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble.

I took the heavy bag, slinging it carefully over my free shoulder. The strap dug into my collarbone, but I ignored the pinch.

"Thank you," I said again, finally forcing myself to meet his golden eyes. "Really. You didn’t have to do that."

"Those girls are an absolute nightmare," he said casually, brushing some brick dust off the knees of his dark jeans. "I’ve had a chemistry lab with the blonde one. She’s miserable to everyone she meets. Please don’t let her get in your head. She isn’t worth a second of your time."

I looked back down at my scuffed sneakers, my cheeks flushing with a hot, lingering shame. "It’s hard not to let it get to you. I shouldn’t have brought him. I ruined the class for everyone."

He didn’t offer a hollow, meaningless platitude. He didn’t say *’just ignore them’* or *’you did nothing wrong’* like it was the easiest thing in the world to believe. He just stood there for a moment, letting the crisp autumn wind blow past us, rustling the leaves overhead.

"You look completely exhausted," he said suddenly.

I flinched slightly, my cheeks burning even hotter. I knew I looked terrible. I had dark circles under my eyes from staying up until 3 AM reading textbooks. My hair was tied in a messy, careless knot. My clothes were cheap and worn. "I know. I’m... it’s been a very long day."

"Have you eaten anything today?"

The question caught me completely off guard. My stomach chose that exact moment to let out a loud, hollow growl. I hadn’t eaten since a piece of toast at six in the morning.

I blinked up at him, mortified. "What?"

"Food," he smiled. It was a genuine, warm expression that made the golden color in his eyes light up beautifully. "You look like you’re running on absolute fumes. There’s a cafe right across the street. The quiet one on the corner, not the loud, crowded one on campus. Do you want to go grab a seat? I can buy you a coffee. Or a sandwich. Whatever you want."

My heart instantly started to race.

Go to a cafe? With a stranger?

I took a small, quick step backward. My grip on Luka tightened protectively, pulling my baby closer to my heart.

"I... I don’t think so," I stammered, my voice trembling wildly again. "I should just go home. I need to get him home. We have to go."

The guy didn’t step forward. He didn’t invade my personal space. He noticed my sudden panic and deliberately, carefully kept his distance, keeping his hands perfectly visible at his sides.

He looked at my defensive posture. He looked at the way I was shielding my baby like he was a predator about to strike. He didn’t look offended by my rejection or my fear.

Instead, his handsome face softened. The bright golden eyes grew incredibly gentle.

He let out a soft, easy laugh and offered me a warm smile.

"Don’t be afraid, I just thought you looked like you were starving."