Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King

Nicolas’s POV

I turned.

Slowly.

Maxim was on his feet now. Leaning against the wall. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His shirt was torn. Dust coated his shoulders.

But he was smiling.

That fucking smile.

"What did you say?" My voice came out flat. Dead.

The kind of calm that made smart people run.

Maxim wasn’t smart.

"I asked if you’re willing to take another man’s scraps." He wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "An omega whore who—"

I crossed the distance between us.

One step. Two.

My hand locked around his throat before he could finish the sentence.

I slammed him back against the wall. Hard enough that more plaster crumbled. Hard enough that I felt the impact shudder through the building’s bones.

His eyes went wide. The smile vanished.

Good.

I leaned in close. Let him see my eyes—still black, still burning with the kind of rage that didn’t just want to hurt him. It wanted to *unmake* him.

"Say that again," I said quietly. "Please. Give me a reason."

Terror flooded his face. Real terror.

His hands scrabbled at my wrist. Weak. Useless.

I could feel his pulse hammering against my palm. Feel his windpipe flexing under my fingers.

One squeeze. That’s all it would take.

My wolf howled for it. *Kill him. Rip him apart. He touched what’s OURS—*

"I—" Maxim choked. "I didn’t—"

"You didn’t what?" I tightened my grip. Just a fraction. "Didn’t touch her? Didn’t violate her?"

His face was turning red. Purple.

"I could kill you right now," I continued, my voice conversational. Like we were discussing the weather. "Snap your neck. Watch the life drain from your eyes."

I felt him try to shake his head. Couldn’t. My grip was too tight.

"But I won’t." I smiled. No humor in it. "You know why?"

He made a strangled sound. Couldn’t speak.

"Because watching you suffer is going to be so much more satisfying." I leaned closer. Let my breath ghost across his face. "I’m going to destroy everything you have. Your pack. Your territory. Your pathetic little empire."

His eyes bulged.

"And when you have nothing left—when you’re crawling in the dirt begging for mercy—I’ll think about killing you. Maybe."

I shoved him away.

He collapsed. Hit the floor hard. Gasped for air.

I looked down at him. This alpha who’d dared touch my mate. Who’d *hurt* her.

Rage burned through my chest like acid. Hot. Vicious. Demanding blood.

But not here. Not now.

Not when she was standing behind me, trembling and broken.

I turned back to Irina. She hadn’t moved. Still pressed against the wall like she was trying to disappear into it.

My hand found her arm again. Gentle this time. Careful.

"We’re leaving," I said. To her. To myself. To anyone stupid enough to try stopping me.

I pulled her toward the door.

Behind us, Maxim laughed. Wet. Painful-sounding.

"Go ahead," he rasped. "Take her. But you’ll see. She’s exactly what they say she is."

I didn’t respond. Didn’t look back.

Just kept walking.

Down the corridor. Past shocked faces. Through doors that people scrambled to open before I had to kick them down.

Roman waited by the main entrance. His expression was carefully neutral. Professional.

But I saw the judgment in his eyes when he looked at Irina.

Saw the way his gaze traveled over her—disheveled clothes, exposed skin, the evidence of what had happened written all over her body.

"My lord," he said evenly. "The car is ready."

"Good."

I didn’t slow down. Just hauled Irina past him, out into the evening air.

The SUV sat idling at the curb. Black. Armored. Engine running.

I yanked open the back door. Pushed Irina inside.

She stumbled. Caught herself against the far seat.

I climbed in after her. Slammed the door.

"Drive," I ordered.

The driver didn’t hesitate. We lurched forward.

Roman appeared in the front passenger seat. Silent. Watching.

The SUV peeled away from the curb. Tires screeching.

I looked at Irina.

She’d curled into herself. Pressed against the opposite door. Her arms wrapped around her middle. Her head down.

Making herself small.

The sight made something twist in my chest. Sharp. Painful.

I reached for her.

She flinched. Hard.

Didn’t matter. I wrapped my hand around her waist anyway. Pulled her across the seat.

Toward me.

She made a small sound. Fear. Protest.

I ignored it.

My other hand caught her chin. Tilted her face up.

Forced her to look at me.

Her eyes were huge. Terrified. Storm-blue and drowning.

I could smell him on her. Maxim. His scent clinging to her skin like oil.

The rage flared again. Hotter this time.

My grip on her waist tightened.

She whimpered.

I leaned down. Put my mouth next to her ear.

Let my breath wash over the mark I’d left on her neck.

"Did he touch you here?" My voice came out rough. Guttural. "Hmm?"