Page 69 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
As consciousness slipped away, I curled up closer to Mr. Iceflare’s chest, seeking his warmth, his scent, his protection. A small, still-rational part of my brain screamed in protest— these men were dangerous alphas, my enemies, the very people who had promised to hunt me down once they escaped. I shouldn’t be finding comfort in their arms, shouldn’t be melting into their touch like it was something I’d been craving my entire life.
But the larger part of me, the part that had been awakened by their touch, couldn’t resist the pull of what they offered. Not justphysical satisfaction, but something deeper, something more meaningful—a sense of belonging, of being valued, of being seen.
“What is this?” I murmured, the question slipping out before I could censor it. “What are we doing? Because I’m pretty sure this isn’t in the standard kidnapping handbook.”
“Surviving,” Mr. Iceflare replied, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “For now.”
“And later?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “When you’re free? When this is over? When you’re back to being mafia bosses and I’m back to being… whatever I was before?”
His hand paused in my hair, then resumed its gentle stroking. “That depends on you, little mouse.”
“On me?” I repeated, confusion clouding my exhausted mind. “How does any of this depend on me? I’m just the breeding omega, remember? The means to De Luca’s end. The incubator with legs.”
“Is that all you think you are to us?” Mr. Enigma asked, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “After everything?”
I didn’t have an answer for that, at least not one I was ready to acknowledge, even to myself. Instead, I deflected, falling back on the sarcasm that had always been my shield. “Well, I don’t think we’re going to be exchanging friendship bracelets anytime soon. You did threaten to kill me, if you recall. Not exactly the foundation for a healthy relationship.”
“Things change,” Mr. Storm said simply, his thumb tracing circles on my ankle. “Circumstances. Feelings. Priorities.”
“Poetic,” I said, though the word lacked its usual bite. “Very cryptic and mysterious. Do you charge extra for fortune cookie wisdom, or is that included in the alpha breeding package?”
Mr. Enigma chuckled, the sound vibrating pleasantly against my back. “There’s our sassy little mouse. I was beginning to worry we’d fucked the snark right out of you.”
“Not a chance,” I retorted, though a yawn undermined my attempt at sharpness. “My snark is my superpower. Indestructible. You could launch it into the sun and it would come back with a tan and sarcastic comments about the quality of solar flares.”
“Sleep,” Mr. Iceflare commanded gently, pressing a kiss to my forehead that felt shockingly tender after the brutality of our coupling. “We’ll talk more later.”
I wanted to argue, to demand answers to the questions swirling in my exhausted mind, but my body had other ideas. Surrounded by alpha warmth, cradled in arms that should have terrified me but instead made me feel safer than I had in years, I surrendered to sleep.
My last conscious thought was a realization that should have horrified me but instead filled me with a strange, peaceful acceptance: I was falling for them. All three of them. My alphas. Mine.
The thought should have sent me running for the hills. Instead, it lulled me into the most restful sleep I’d had since this nightmare began.
seventeen
. . .
I woke to the sound of voices—low, dangerous rumbles that vibrated through the chest I was currently using as a pillow. My brain struggled to come online, still fuzzy from what had to be the most intense sexual marathon in omega history.
“He’s stirring,” Mr. Iceflare said, his hand never pausing its possessive stroking of my hair.
“About time,” Mr. Enigma replied from somewhere to my right. “I was starting to think we’d fucked him into a coma.”
“Not optimal,” Mr. Storm added with his usual economy of words.
Great. They were all awake and alert while I’d been drooling on Mr. Iceflare’s chest with complete abandon. Just perfect for my dignity, which was already severely compromised.
I kept my eyes closed, cataloging my situation with the strategic caution that had kept me alive this long. I was sandwiched between Mr. Iceflare and Mr. Enigma, with Mr. Storm’s hand resting possessively on my ankle. All three were radiating alpha alertness, their bodies tense in a way that suggested they’d been awake for some time.
“The guards brought food,” Mr. Iceflare said, clearly aware I was awake despite my Oscar-worthy performance. “They seemed disappointed you weren’t awake to entertain them with your usual charm.”
“By ‘charm’ you mean ‘creative insults,’ I assume,” I said, finally opening my eyes to find his ice-blue gaze fixed on me with predatory focus. “It’s too early for my A-material. You’ll have to settle for my B-minus work until I’ve had coffee.”
“There is no coffee,” Mr. Storm informed me, his hand tightening slightly on my ankle. “Water. Protein mush. Bread.”
“The breakfast of champions.” I sighed, attempting to extract myself from the tangle of alpha limbs. “Move your tentacles, gentlemen. Some of us have basic hygiene standards to maintain.”
Mr. Iceflare’s arm tightened around my waist, keeping me firmly in place. “Not yet,” he said, his voice carrying that alpha command that did absolutely nothing for my attempt to maintain independence. “You’re staying right here.”
