Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King

Irina’s POV

*Alexei.*

My stomach dropped straight out of my body.

I screamed. Or I tried to. The sound came out as nothing — a strangled, useless hum against his palm, hot and suffocating, pressed so hard against my mouth that my teeth cut into the inside of my lip. I tasted blood immediately. The shock of it was sharp and metallic and real.

I grabbed at his forearm. Both hands. Nails first.

He didn’t flinch.

"Shh." His voice was right at my ear, low and ugly. "Don’t bother."

I pulled harder. Twisted. Threw my weight sideways. Nothing happened. He was bigger than I remembered — broader, harder — or maybe I was just smaller now, hollowed out, a body that had been through too much to fight the way I needed to. My heels dragged against the floor as he started moving, and I kicked backward, connected with his shin, and he grunted.

His grip tightened.

The corridor was completely empty.

That was the worst part. I looked — I looked everywhere, eyes darting from doorway to doorway, searching for *anyone* — a passing servant, a guard, anyone at all — and there was nothing. Just stone and dim light and silence.

*There’s no one coming.*

The thought hit me like a fist to the ribs.

I kept fighting anyway.

---

He dragged me fast, like he’d planned the route. I dug my feet in. He dragged me anyway. I clawed at his arm hard enough to draw blood and he barely made a sound. Down the corridor, around a turn, past a door I recognized, past one I didn’t.

My breathing was already wrong — too fast, too shallow, whistling through my nose in short useless bursts because his hand was still over my mouth. I couldn’t get enough air. My vision had started going bright at the edges.

*The baby.*

I went cold.

I had to get out of this.

He shoved open a door. Small room. Dark. The smell of dust and old cleaning supplies, a mop propped against the wall, shelves of folded rags and locked supply boxes. A storage closet. The kind of room nobody would think to check.

The door swung shut behind us.

Then he threw me.

I hit the floor hard — knees first, then palms, then my shoulder when I couldn’t catch myself fast enough. The impact punched through every joint in my body. I gasped, rolled onto my side, tried to push myself up —

His hands found my throat.

Both of them. Fingers wrapping around from either side, thumbs pressing into the front.

Everything stopped.

My whole body locked up.

My lungs seized. My hands flew up to grab at his wrists but the strength had gone out of them, and I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t —

*Breathe.*

I forced my eyes open. Forced them to focus.

And that’s when I finally saw his face.

---

He looked terrible.

Dark circles scooped beneath his eyes. A jaw set so hard the muscle twitched. He was in standard soldier’s clothes, plain and nondescript, but the uniform sat wrong on him — like a costume.

His eyes were wild.

"You." His voice came out like something tearing. "It’s *you*. It’s all because of *you.*"

I couldn’t speak. His hands were still on my throat. I tried to swallow — couldn’t. My lips were moving, forming sounds that went nowhere.

"Do you have any idea," he said, "what happened after you left? My mother is *gone.* My father is gone. Maxim is gone. Everything is *gone.*" His grip tightched, just a fraction, and my vision flushed white at the edges. "All because of you. Because you couldn’t just stay where you belonged. Because you had to run, had to get yourself picked up by the alpha king, had to drag all of us into this —"

He was shaking. I could feel it through his hands.

I clawed at his hands. Uselessly. My fingernails bent back.

"But that’s fine." Something in his face shifted. Smoothed out. Went somewhere colder. "That’s fine. Because I have a plan now. You want to know what it is?"

I didn’t. I didn’t want to know anything except air.

"I’m going to kill him." He said it quietly. Almost conversationally. Like it was already done. "Your precious alpha. I’ve been watching him for weeks. I know his schedule. I know his routes. I know where he goes without his guards." He smiled. It was the worst kind of smile — the kind with no warmth in it at all. "And when he’s dead? I’ll step in. Someone will have to take control. Why not me?"

*He’s going to kill Nicolas.*

The thought hit me like cold water.

"And you?" His gaze dropped to mine. Held it. "You. You’re going to die right now. Before you can run to him and ruin everything. Before you can open your mouth and — "

He squeezed.

My throat closed. My vision went white. I heard a sound — high and broken — and realized it was coming from me, some desperate animal noise being forced past the compression of his hands, and I couldn’t —

My hands dropped. I couldn’t hold them up anymore. The edges of everything were going dark, curling inward like paper held too close to a flame, and I thought in a very flat, distant way, *this is it, this is actually it —*

Then, from somewhere outside the door:

"Miss? Miss, are you in here?"

Sofia’s voice. Bright and slightly breathless, the way it always sounded when she was moving fast, searching.

"Miss Irina? Miss?"

Alexei’s hands disappeared.

One second they were there, crushing, and the next they were gone — just gone — and I collapsed forward onto the floor and pulled in a breath so hard it scraped my whole chest raw.

I heard him move. A rush of air. The door cracking open and then shut.

Alexei was gone.