Page 8 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
And in the middle of the room…
“Holy shit,” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Three men lay on hospital-style beds. Their injuries were extensive—cuts, bruises, and bandages covered their powerful bodies. The one on the left had a nasty-looking gash across his shoulder, partially stitched and still angry-looking. The middle one’s torso was a canvas of purple-black bruises, spreading in dark pools across his muscled abdomen. The one on the right had a bandage wrapped around his head, a trickle of dried blood painting a macabre line down his temple.
What made the scene even more disturbing was the restraint system. Each alpha had a thick iron cuff locked around one wrist, connected to a heavy chain that disappeared into some kind of mechanical housing unit mounted on the wall behind each bed. The setup looked like something from a supervillain’s lair, clinical efficiency meets medieval dungeon.
De Luca noticed my attention on the restraints and smiled with disturbing pride. “Twenty-five feet of chain when fullyextended. Enough for them to reach their bathroom facilities but not your quarters or the exit.” He gestured toward a control panel near the door. “The guards can trigger an emergency retraction if necessary. We’ve thought of everything.”
“Everything except basic human decency,” I said, but De Luca either didn’t hear or chose to ignore me.
De Luca circled the men, inspecting them with a collector’s clinical appreciation. “The explosion did some damage, but nothing that will interfere with their capabilities.” He gestured toward their naked forms with disturbing appreciation. “All the necessary equipment is in perfect working order.”
“You’re disgusting,” I snapped, but my gaze involuntarily dropped to what he was referring to, and I felt heat flood my cheeks. Even in their current state, there was no denying their alpha physicality. Each was powerfully built, with the kind of muscle that came from practical use rather than vanity workouts.
“Their injuries will keep them weak and disoriented for now,” De Luca continued, his clinical tone making the situation all the more disturbing. “And when an omega in heat is present, their biological instincts will respond regardless of their condition.”
“You make it sound so romantic,” I said, crossing my arms to hide the trembling in my hands.
De Luca’s eyes narrowed. “Your flippancy is wearing thin, Mr. Hart.”
“Sorry, it’s my default setting when faced with morally reprehensible situations. Call it a character flaw.”
The one in the center’s eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, I found myself caught in the most intense gaze I’d ever encountered. His ice-blue eyes briefly cleared, burning with a cold, calculating fury. They seemed to glow with an inner light, flaring with hatred as they locked on De Luca, then shifting tome with a promise of retribution that made my breath catch. Then the sedatives pulled him under again, his eyes clouding over.
The alpha with vivid green eyes seemed to be drifting in and out as well. One moment glazed and unfocused, the next sharpening with something that might have been recognition before clouding over again. Dark-brown waves fell across his forehead, giving him an almost boyish appearance that contrasted sharply with the lethal intelligence that occasionally flickered in his gaze.
The third alpha, with tousled dark-blond hair, seemed the most affected by the sedatives. His stormy gray eyes would open, stare unseeingly at the ceiling, then close again. Unlike the others’ more obvious struggles toward consciousness, his seemed deeper, more internal.
“You have two weeks,” De Luca said, checking his watch as if we were discussing a business deadline. “You will visit daily and do whatever is necessary to conceive.”
My head swam slightly, the room tilting at the edges of my vision. The combination of stress, my suppressants wearing off, and the overwhelming presence of three alphas was wreaking havoc on my system.
“Dr. Rossi will monitor your fertility. The moment conception is confirmed, your interactions with the alphas will cease.” He nodded toward a door at the far end of the room. “Your quarters are through there. Everything you need has been provided.”
My quarters. Attached to this nightmare chamber. The realization that I wouldn’t even be allowed to leave this space hit me with stunning force.
“Clean yourself up,” De Luca instructed, already heading for the exit. “Make yourself presentable. The sooner you succeed, the sooner this ends for everyone.”
He paused at the door, his hand on the heavy iron handle. “Oh, and Mr. Hart? Don’t get any ideas about trying to help them escape. Any attempt to assist them will result in immediate consequences for your father.”
The heavy iron door clanged shut behind him, the sound of multiple locks engaging echoing through the stone chamber. And suddenly, I was alone with three alpha mafia leaders.
“Well,” I said, my voice shaking despite my attempt at nonchalance, “this is awkward. I’d introduce myself properly, but you guys seem a little out of it at the moment. Can’t say I blame you.”
I took a cautious step forward, then another. Their scents intensified, enveloping me completely. The blue-eyed one smelled of crisp winter pine with notes of bergamot and undertones of something metallic—blood, power, rage. The green-eyed one’s scent was cinnamon and amber, deceptively warm but with a sharp edge that made my pulse quicken. The stormy-eyed alpha smelled of rain and something wild, a scent that evoked lightning striking open ground.
The combination swirled around me, making my head spin and my omega instincts flare to life. I felt my scent glands throb at my neck, releasing pheromones I couldn’t control.
The alphas reacted. All three inhaled deeply, their nostrils flaring as they caught the first hints of pre-heat in my scent. The blue-eyed one’s chest rumbled with what might have been a growl, the sound so deeply alpha that my knees nearly buckled. The green-eyed one’s pupils expanded, though his gaze remained unfocused. The stormy-eyed one’s breathing quickened, his body responding even as his mind floated in chemical twilight.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I blurted out, though I knew they probably couldn’t understand me in their current state. “He has my father. He’ll kill him if I don’t…”
The blue-eyed alpha’s gaze briefly cleared again, those irises seeming to flare with an inner light as he stared at me. He radiated such commanding presence that my omega instincts urged me to drop to my knees before him. His massive chest expanded with a deep breath, and I watched, transfixed, as the muscles in his arms flexed with surprising strength.
“Okay, Mr. Iceflare, I get it. You’re pissed,” I said, the nickname slipping out before I could stop it. My nervous habit of assigning names to people I was afraid of, a coping mechanism from childhood, kicking in at the worst possible moment. “Trust me, I’m not thrilled about this situation either.”
The green-eyed alpha’s eyebrows rose slightly, something that might have been surprise flickering across his face before the sedatives pulled him under again. His gaze, in those brief moments of clarity, seemed to peel back my layers, examining what lay beneath. Enigmatic. Searching.
