Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King

Irina’s POV

Poison.

The word hit me like cold water to the face.

I stood there. Staring at her. At her face crumpled in on itself, tears spilling down her cheeks, her whole body shaking.

*Poison.*

The vial in my hand suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

"Come with me," I said.

My voice came out steadier than I felt. I turned. Grabbed her arm. Didn’t wait for her to agree.

She stumbled after me, half-running to keep up, her breathing coming in wet, ragged gasps.

My door. I pushed it open. Pulled her inside.

Closed it behind us.

Turned around.

She stood in the middle of my room with her hands twisted together in front of her, tears streaming down her face, shoulders caved in like she was trying to disappear into herself.

I held up the vial.

"Talk," I said.

She shook her head. Not no—more like she couldn’t. Like the words were stuck somewhere.

"You need to start talking," I said, "right now."

"Miss Irina—"

"The alpha finds out you had this in a palace corridor, you’re dead." My voice dropped. Quiet. Even. "You understand that? He will *kill* you. Whatever you think is going to happen, whatever you’re afraid of right now—it’s nothing compared to what happens if he finds out."

Her face crumpled further.

Good. She needed to understand how serious this was.

"So start talking." I crossed my arms. Kept the vial pressed in my fist. "Why do you have poison?"

She dragged the back of her hand across her face. Tried to pull herself together.

"I—" Her voice cracked. She tried again. "I didn’t want to have it. I didn’t—you have to believe me, I didn’t want any part of this."

"Part of what?"

She shook her head.

"Part of *what?*"

"I can’t—" She pressed her lips together. Squeezed her eyes shut.

I watched her for a second.

Then I said, very quietly: "Did someone send you to kill me?"

Her eyes flew open.

"*What?*" Genuine horror. Not performed. Her whole face changed. "No. *No.* Miss Irina, I would never—you’ve been so—" She broke off. Gestured helplessly. "You’re the only person in this whole palace who says please and thank you. Who never makes me feel like—like I’m not even *there.*"

Her voice broke on the last word.

"You treat me like a person," she whispered. "I would never. *Never.*"

I looked at her.

My father’s face flashed in my mind. Maxim’s.

"My father," I said slowly. "Did he send you? Or Maxim? From Iron Thorn?"

She shook her head frantically. "I don’t know your father. I’ve never even been to Iron Thorn. I’ve been in this palace for three years." A sob escaped her. "I don’t know anyone from your old pack. I swear. I *swear.*"

I kept watching her.

She met my gaze. Held it. Eyes red. Hands still shaking.

She wasn’t lying.

I’d spent the last year learning to read people’s faces. When they were performing versus when they were genuinely terrified. Maxim had taught me that, in his own way—you learned quickly which expressions were real when the wrong read could mean another broken rib.

This was real.

Whatever she was afraid of, it wasn’t me finding her out.

It was something worse.

I uncrossed my arms. Sat down on the edge of the bed. Not because I felt calm—I felt the opposite of calm, I felt like my entire chest cavity had been replaced with something that buzzed and sparked—but because if I stayed standing I was going to start pacing, and pacing wouldn’t help either of us.

"Sit down," I said.

She looked around. Found the small chair near the window. Sank into it like her legs had given up.

I set the vial on the nightstand between us. Let it sit there.

Neither of us looked away from it.

"The poison," I said. "Who is it for?"

She pressed her lips together.

"Sophia." My voice came out different this time. Lower. "Tell me."

She looked up.

Really looked at me, for the first time since I’d pulled her in here. Her eyes red. Her face blotchy. Every line of her body braced against something.

Like she’d already made a decision. Already crossed a line inside herself that couldn’t be uncrossed.

She said:

"Alpha Nicolas."