Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King

Maxim’s POV

The SUV’s engine cut off. Silence crashed down.

I sat there. Hands gripping the steering wheel. Knuckles white.

My territory. My land. My pack house rising up ahead like a fortress.

But it felt wrong. All of it felt wrong.

Because she wasn’t here.

I slammed my palm against the wheel. The horn blared. Harsh. Angry.

One of my men jumped. Looked over from where he stood guard at the entrance.

I didn’t care.

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ground together. The sound filled my skull.

The car door opened with more force than necessary. I stepped out. My boots hit gravel.

Grigori appeared at my side. Always there. Always watching.

"Alpha," he said carefully. "Perhaps you should—"

"Don’t." The word came out sharp. "Don’t fucking tell me what I should do."

He went quiet. Smart.

I started walking. Through the entrance. Past guards who straightened when they saw me.

Past omegas who scurried out of my path.

Good. They should move. Should fear me.

I was their alpha. Would be officially soon enough.

The main hall stretched out before me. Empty this time of night. Just shadows and dim lighting.

My footsteps echoed. Each one a hammer blow.

I needed something. Needed to break something. Hit something.

Needed—

Her.

I needed her.

My hands curled into fists. Rage burned through my chest like acid.

She was his now. Marked. Claimed.

But she’d been mine first. Mine to touch. Mine to hurt. Mine to own.

The alpha king didn’t understand that. Didn’t know what I’d built with her over months of careful training.

Teaching her to submit. To fear. To need my approval even while she hated me.

All that work. Gone.

"Fuck!" The word exploded from me.

I grabbed a vase from a side table. Hurled it across the hall.

It shattered against the wall. Porcelain scattered across marble floors.

The sound was satisfying. But not enough.

Not nearly enough.

I kept walking. Toward my private quarters. Away from watching eyes.

A figure appeared in the hallway ahead. Female. Omega. One of the house servants.

Young. Pretty enough. Dark hair pulled back.

She saw me. Started to bow. To move aside.

"You," I said. "Come here."

She froze. Uncertainty flickered across her face.

"Now."

She came. Quickly. Head down.

Smart girl.

I grabbed her wrist. Pulled her with me into my rooms.

The door slammed shut behind us.

She stood there. Trembling slightly. Eyes on the floor.

Good. She should be scared.

I moved closer. Let my presence fill the space between us.

"Take off your dress," I ordered.

Her hands went to the hem. Pulled it up and over her head without question.

Obedient. Trained.

Unlike Irina. Unlike my little rabbit who’d learned to fight back even when it was useless.

The servant stood in her undergarments. Waiting.

I grabbed her. Spun her around. Pressed her face-first against the wall.

She gasped. Didn’t protest.

My hands found her hips. Rough. Demanding.

This would help. This would ease the rage burning through me.

I pushed her underwear down. Kicked her feet apart.

My belt buckle clinked. Zipper lowered.

And then I was inside her. Hard. Fast.

She cried out. Pain or pleasure—I didn’t care which.

I set a brutal pace. Took what I wanted.

Her palms pressed flat against the wall. Supporting herself as I drove into her again and again.

But it wasn’t helping.

Because she wasn’t right. Wasn’t small enough. Fragile enough.

Wasn’t Irina.

I closed my eyes. Pictured her instead.

My Irina. Her pale hair. Her storm-blue eyes wide with fear.

Her body beneath mine. Fighting. Struggling.

Making those little sounds I loved.

"Irina," I groaned.

The servant beneath me stiffened.

I didn’t care. Grabbed her hair. Pulled her head back.

"Irina," I said again. Louder this time.

Thrust harder. Chasing the image in my head.

Her tears. Her trembling. The way she’d break apart when I pushed too far.

"Irina. Fuck. Irina."

My release hit like violence. I buried myself deep. Rode it out.

Then pulled away immediately.

The servant stumbled. Caught herself against the wall.

I was already zipping up. Straightening my clothes.

She turned. Looked at me with hurt confusion.

"Get out," I said.

She fled.

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

I stood there. Breathing hard.

It hadn’t helped. Hadn’t done anything except remind me what I’d lost.

I crossed to the liquor cabinet. Poured whiskey. Drank it straight.

The burn did nothing.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

"What?" I barked.

The door opened. One of my father’s men stood there.

"The former alpha requests your presence," he said formally. "Immediately."

My jaw clenched.

Of course. Of course he’d heard about what happened.

News traveled fast in pack politics.

"Fine." I set down my glass. Hard enough that liquid sloshed. "Tell him I’m coming."

---

Stepan—my father—sat behind his massive desk. Gray hair. Hard eyes that had seen decades of pack politics.

He looked at me. Expression carefully neutral.

"Sit."

I sat. Spine straight. Met his gaze without flinching.

Silence stretched between us.

He picked up a crystal tumbler. Took a slow sip. Set it down with precision.

"Tell me," he said finally. "What possessed you to assault the alpha king’s marked mate in a public establishment?"

"Do you understand what you’ve done? What you’ve risked?"

"I understand—"

"You understand nothing!" He spun. Face flushed with anger. "Nicolas is not just any alpha. He’s the alpha king. He controls forty-two packs across this continent."

I stayed silent.

"If he decides we’ve insulted him—if he decides to make an example of us—we’re finished." Stepan’s hands gripped the window frame. "He could wipe Iron Thorn off the map. Absorb our territory. Scatter our pack."

"She’s mine," I said quietly. "She was mine for a year. I trained her. Shaped her. She belongs to me."

Stepan looked at me. Something like disgust flickered across his features.

"You’re not listening," he said. "You’re so focused on your obsession with that girl that you can’t see the bigger picture."

He moved closer. Stopped in front of my chair.

"Iron Thorn’s survival depends on not making enemies of the alpha king. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"Then you’ll stay away from her. Completely." His tone left no room for argument. "No contact. No messages. Nothing."

My jaw clenched. "And if I don’t?"

"Then you’ll destroy us all." He leaned down. Got in my face. "Is that what you want? To be remembered as the alpha who brought down his entire pack for one omega?"

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said slowly, "that an alpha needs to think strategically. Needs to put the pack before personal desires."

He moved back to his desk. Sat down.

"And right now, I’m questioning whether you’re capable of that."

Rage built in my chest. Hot. Vicious.

He was threatening me. Actually threatening to delay my ascension.

"You can’t do that," I said. Voice low. Dangerous.

"I can." His eyes were hard. "I’m still the recognized alpha until the ceremony. I can postpone it indefinitely if I believe you’re unfit."

My hands gripped the armrests hard enough to hurt.

"You wouldn’t."

"Try me."

We stared at each other.

All the resentment I’d buried for years rose up like bile.

All the times he’d second-guessed me. Questioned my decisions. Treated me like I was still a child.

"You’re a coward," I said quietly.

His expression didn’t change. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I stood. Leaned across the desk. "You’re so terrified of Nicolas that you’d rather sacrifice your own son than risk his anger."

"I’m trying to protect—"

"You’re protecting yourself." I cut him off. "You’re clinging to power because you know once I take over, things will change."

Stepan’s jaw clenched. "Sit down."

"No." I stayed standing. "You want to talk about leadership? About putting the pack first?"

I laughed. Short. Harsh.

"You’ve been holding onto the alpha position for years past when you should’ve stepped down. Everyone knows it."

"Maxim—"

"You’re weak now. Old. The pack needs young blood. Strong leadership."

I moved toward the door. Stopped. Looked back at him.

"So if you’re so afraid of the alpha king—if you think I’m too reckless to lead—then maybe you should step down now."

His face flushed. "You have no right—"

"I have every right." My voice dropped. Dangerous. "I’m your heir. Your only viable option."

I opened the door. Paused.

"I should have taken my position as the rightful alpha long ago."