Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King

Nicholas’s POV

Mikhail’s house was smaller than Maxim’s.

Still big—beta families got decent accommodations, that was standard—but nothing ostentatious. A two-story structure on the edge of the residential zone. Neat lawn. Flower boxes that hadn’t been tended in weeks.

The front door was unlocked.

"Sir." Roman’s voice had a warning in it.

"I know." I pushed the door open anyway.

The inside was empty.

Not ransacked-empty. Just—abandoned. Like everyone had packed their essentials and left in an orderly fashion. Furniture still in place. Dishes in the sink. A coat rack by the door with nothing on it.

They’d run.

Of course they’d run. Mikhail had to know what was coming. His daughter was the alpha king’s mate now. His former alpha had just been stripped of his rank and had tried to kill said alpha king in front of three hundred witnesses.

Staying here would have been suicide.

I walked through the house anyway.

Living room. Kitchen. Dining room. Everything neat. Everything intact. Like they’d just stepped out for groceries and would be back any minute.

I climbed the stairs.

Three bedrooms. The master was clearly Mikhail’s—large bed, heavy furniture, the kind of decor that said *middle-aged man with no one to impress.*

The second bedroom was newer. Feminine. Probably the stepmother’s daughter. Clothes still in the closet. Makeup on the dresser.

The third bedroom—

I stopped in the doorway.

Small. Very small. A single bed against the wall. A desk. A lamp. A window that looked out over the backyard.

Nothing else.

No posters. No decorations. No personal items. The closet was open and empty. The desk drawers were empty. The whole room had the feel of something that had been stripped clean a long time ago.

This was hers.

This was where Irina had lived before Maxim—

I turned around. Left the room. Closed the door behind me.

Roman was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"Empty?" he asked.

"Yes."

"They didn’t leave a forwarding address."

"Didn’t expect them to." I looked at him. "Put out a notice. If Mikhail or any of his family show up anywhere in our network, I want to know. But we’re not pursuing them. They’re not the priority."

"Understood."

I walked to the front door. Stopped. Looked back at the house one more time.

She’d lived here. In that small room with nothing in it. And then she’d lived in a cell. And now she was in my building, in a medical wing bed, pregnant and healing and probably terrified that I was going to change my mind about all of it.

I was never changing my mind.

I walked out.

---

The pack gathering was scheduled for noon.

Town square. Central location. Roman had sent word out the night before—every member of Iron Thorn pack was required to attend. Failure to appear would be noted.

They came.

Not all of them—some had already fled, scattered to other territories or gone rogue. But most of them came. Hundreds of people filling the square, standing in clumps, talking in low voices. The fear was palpable. You could smell it.

They thought I was here to punish them.

I stood on the steps of the town hall and looked at them.

Roman was on my left. Andrei on my right. Behind us, a dozen of my personal guard. Visible. Armed. A reminder of what I could do if I wanted to.

I didn’t want to.

But they didn’t know that yet.

"Iron Thorn pack," I said.

My voice carried. It always carried. One of the convenient parts of being what I was—when I spoke, people listened whether they wanted to or not.

The crowd went quiet.

"Three days ago," I said, "your alpha was stripped of his rank in front of representatives from every major pack on this continent. He was stripped because he abused his authority, because he violated the laws that govern all of us, and because he proved himself unworthy of the title he held."

Silence. Three hundred people holding their breath.

"He ran," I said. "He broke free of his restraints and he ran like a coward. And then he came back here—to this territory—and he murdered his own father and stole everything he could carry."

A ripple went through the crowd. Shock. Horror. Some of them hadn’t known yet.

"You are now a pack without an alpha," I said. "That makes you vulnerable. Other packs are already testing your borders. If I leave you like this, you’ll be torn apart within a month. Your territory will be divided. Your families will be scattered."

I paused.

Let that sink in.

"I’m not here to let that happen," I said. "As of now, Iron Thorn is under my direct authority. I am your alpha until further notice."

More ripples. Louder now. Fear mixing with something else—confusion, maybe. Hope, possibly.

"I am not here to punish you," I said. "The crimes committed in this territory were committed by one man. Maxim. And he will answer for them. But the rest of you—" I looked at the crowd. At the faces. At the children standing with their parents, at the elders in the back, at the warriors trying to look strong and failing. "The rest of you are not responsible for his choices."

The fear was starting to ease. Just slightly. Just enough that I could feel the shift.

"I’m offering you a choice," I said. "Any warrior who wishes to continue fighting can join my forces. You’ll be fed, housed, and paid. You’ll have a place." I paused. "Anyone who doesn’t want to fight can go home. Go back to your families. Rebuild your lives. No one will stop you."

I looked at Roman. He stepped forward. Unrolled a piece of paper.

"There is a bounty," Roman said. His voice was clear, professional. "Anyone who provides information leading to Maxim’s capture will be rewarded. Fifty thousand dollars. Cash. No questions asked."

That got their attention.

Fifty thousand was life-changing money for most of these people.

"We’re not here to destroy you," I said. "We’re here to give you a future. One that doesn’t involve following a coward who killed his own father and abandoned you to save himself."

I stepped back.

The crowd was silent.

Then—movement at the back. An old man. Gray-haired. Stooped. He pushed through the crowd slowly, people parting for him automatically.

He walked to the front. Looked up at me.

"May I speak?" he asked.

"Go ahead."

He turned. Looked at the crowd. Then—slowly, carefully—he lowered himself to his knees.

"Alpha," he said.

His voice was quiet. But it carried.

The crowd went completely still.

He looked up at me. His eyes were wet.

"Alpha," he said again. "We accept."

And then—one by one—they followed.

The woman beside him dropped first. Then the man next to her. Then the children. Then the warriors. Then everyone, row by row, the entire crowd lowering themselves to the ground until the square was full of people on their knees.

"Alpha."

The word came from everywhere at once. A hundred voices. Two hundred. More.

"Alpha."

Louder now. Unified.

"*Alpha!*"