Page 1 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
prologue
. . .
THE WORLD OF ALPHA MAFIA KINGS
In the shadowed corners of our world exist stories too dark to be told in the light.
Tales of alphas who take what they want, omegas caught in webs not of their making, and the blurred lines between captivity and belonging.
What you are about to read is one such story.
the world
In this world, humanity is divided not just by wealth and power, but by biology itself. A hidden hierarchy exists alongside conventional society, where scent, instinct, and primal urges influence every interaction.
In the criminal landscape of Alpha Mafia Kings, these biological imperatives amplify power dynamics to dangerousextremes. Alpha leaders command their territories not just through violence and business acumen, but through instinctual dominance that demands submission.
This is a world where mafia alphas enforce their will through violence and possession, where an omega’s heat can become both weapon and weakness, where captivity can transform into something more complex than simple imprisonment.
the hierarchy
Three secondary genders exist alongside traditional male and female designations, creating a complex social structure that shapes every aspect of society.
Alphas (α)– Comprising roughly thirty percent of the population, alphas stand at the pinnacle of the social order. Physically imposing with dominant personalities, they are natural leaders whose presence commands attention and respect. Their scents are potent and territorial, designed to attract omegas and intimidate rivals. In the criminal underworld, alpha mafia leaders rule with unquestioned authority, their biological dominance reinforcing their power.
Among alphas, an even rarer designation exists:Dominant Alphas. These exceptional few possess heightened instincts, overwhelming charisma, and an almost supernatural ability to sense and command omegas. Their presence alone can trigger biological responses in compatible omegas, creating bonds that transcend rational thought.
Betas (β)– The majority of humanity, betas form the backbone of society. Neither as aggressive as alphas nor as biologically vulnerable as omegas, they occupy the middle ground in the social hierarchy. Their scents are milder, their instincts less pronounced, allowing them greater freedom from biological imperatives.
Omegas (Ω)– The rarest designation, comprising merely ten percent of the population, omegas are both coveted and marginalized. Their bodies produce intoxicating scents that intensify during heat cycles, drawing alphas with primal attraction. Despite modern advances, omegas face discrimination in professional settings due to their biology, particularly their monthly heat cycles which render them vulnerable.
Male omegas, especially rare, face additional scrutiny in a world that often views their designation as contradictory to traditional masculinity. Yet they possess what many consider the omega’s greatest gift and burden – the ability to conceive and bear children, regardless of primary gender.
Within omega designation exists the extraordinarily rareOmega Prime– born perhaps once in a generation, these omegas produce scents so compelling they can entrance even the most controlled alphas. Their fertility is legendary, their heats more intense, and their biological compatibility with Dominant Alphas creates connections that border on mythical. Throughout history, Omega Primes have been treasured, protected, and sometimes exploited for their unique abilities.
one
. . .
The copper scent of blood filled my nostrils, making my stomach lurch. My father’s crumpled form lay motionless on the concrete floor, his face barely recognizable beneath the swelling and bruises. Each labored breath he took whistled through his broken nose, the only sign he was still alive.
“I’ll ask one more time, Mr. Hart.” De Luca’s voice slithered through the warehouse, smooth as oil and just as toxic. “Where is the money?”
I strained against the arms holding me back, my wrists raw from the rope binding them behind my back. “We don’t have it! I’ve told you a dozen times already!”
The aging don circled my father’s body with the casual interest of a vulture eyeing a not-quite-dead meal. His expensive Italian shoes clicked against the concrete, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. Despite his years, Giovanni De Luca carried himself with the confidence of a man accustomed to having his orders followed without question. His silver hair gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, a stark contrast to the darkness in his eyes.
“Such a shame.” De Luca sighed, nudging my father’s ribs with the tip of his shoe. “He’s quite respected in his community. A master baker, I’m told.”
A whimper escaped my father’s lips at the contact, and I renewed my struggles.
“Stop it! Please!” My voice cracked. “He was just trying to save our bakery. He needs help, not?—”
The back of De Luca’s hand connected with my cheek, snapping my head to the side. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and I tasted blood.
“What he needs,” De Luca hissed, leaning close enough that I could smell the mint on his breath, “is to pay what he owes me. With interest.”
One of his men, a hulking brute with knuckles that looked like they’d been broken and reset multiple times, stepped forward, cracking his joints in anticipation.
