Page 93 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
One day at a time. That was all I could manage right now.
One day of freedom at a time.
twenty-two
. . .
The door closed behind Ty with a soft click, but his scent lingered—jasmine and lilies now layered with the unmistakable markers of their combined claim. Anders inhaled deeply, savoring the complex aroma of omega satisfaction mixed with fear and determination. The contradictory elements were intoxicating, much like Ty himself.
He’d felt Ty slipping from his arms in the predawn hours, the careful way he’d extracted himself from their collective embrace. Anders had nearly tightened his hold instinctively, the alpha in him rebelling at the thought of his little mouse moving away, but he’d forced himself to maintain the illusion of sleep. Had allowed Ty his small victory, this temporary escape.
Across from him, Wyatt’s stormy eyes opened, alert despite his apparent slumber. A silent communication passed between them—acknowledgment that they’d both been awake, both felt Ty’s departure, both chose to let him go. For now.
“He’s running tonight,” Conall said. “You can smell it on him—determination, adrenaline, resolve.”
Anders nodded, his ice-blue eyes still fixed on the door through which Ty had disappeared. “Let him run. He won’t get far.”
The memory of Ty’s body was seared into his mind—the graceful arch of his spine as pleasure overtook him, the perfect tightness of his entrance, the small sounds he made when trying to suppress his enjoyment. Most satisfying of all had been the moment of surrender, when Ty’s resistance had crumbled completely and he’d given himself over to the pleasure they provided.
But it was more than physical satisfaction that lingered. The way Ty’s eyes had softened in unguarded moments. How his sharp tongue had faltered when Anders had touched him with unexpected gentleness. The vulnerability he’d tried so hard to hide beneath layers of sarcasm and defiance.
“He took us beautifully,” Conall said, echoing Anders’ thoughts.
“Ours,” Wyatt said simply, his stormy eyes never leaving the door Ty had disappeared through.
Anders smiled at Wyatt’s directness. One word that conveyed everything his sworn brother felt about their little mouse.
“His eyes,” Anders said, surprising himself with the observation. “Did you notice how they changed color when he came? Hazel to almost gold.”
“I was more focused on how his scent changed,” Conall admitted. “That moment when fear and reluctance gave way to pure omega need. Intoxicating.”
Wyatt nodded, his hand unconsciously clenching the sheets where Ty had lain.
“We take him alive,” Anders declared. “Unharmed. He’s ours to protect, ours to claim properly.”
The memory of Ty’s body yielding to his made Anders’ cock harden despite their recent activities. The little mouse had beenexquisite—responsive beyond what heat alone could explain, his inner walls gripping Anders with perfect pressure, his scent changing subtly as pleasure overtook fear. Anders wanted that again—wanted to experience Ty’s surrender when it wasn’t clouded by heat or coercion, when it was given freely.
“Ready soon,” Wyatt said, pulling Anders back to the immediate concerns of their escape. “Viktor’s men in place.”
Anders nodded, testing his restraints again. The metal cuffs were still secure around his wrist, but he could feel the difference in the wall housing that contained the mechanical retraction system. Viktor’s men had been systematically weakening it for days.
“Tonight,” Anders said, returning to the immediate concern of their escape. “We move at midnight, during the shift change.”
Conall nodded, testing his restraints again. The metal creaked, stretching further than it had yesterday. “Tonight,” he agreed.
Wyatt gave a single, precise nod. “Maximum confusion.”
As the day progressed, Anders grew increasingly restless. Ty hadn’t returned since his predawn escape from their bed.
The compound fell quiet as night deepened, the skeleton crew of guards making their rounds with predictable regularity. Anders counted the footsteps as they passed, timed the intervals between checks. Eleven forty-five. Almost time.
The door to their chamber opened at precisely eleven fifty-three, a single guard entering for the final security check of the night. The man was new—inexperienced, sloppy in his movements, attention partially focused on his clipboard rather than the three alphas he’d been warned about. Perfect.
The guard sneered, making a cursory glance around the room. “I don’t know why we bother with the routine. You’ll be dead soon enough once the old man gets what he wants.”
Anders caught Conall’s eye, a silent communication passing between them. Conall gave an imperceptible nod, then groaned loudly, his body convulsing on the bed.
“What the fuck?” The guard approached cautiously, hand moving to his weapon. “Hey, stop that shit.”
