Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King Chapter 33

Nicolas’s POV

I’d seen a lot of things in my life.

Bodies. Blood. n begging for their lives on their knees.

None of it had made feel like this.

Like sothing was clawing at my chest from the inside out.

She was sitting on the floor. In a pool of her own blood. Glass embedded in her skin. Her eyes empty. Her face blank.

My mate.

*What the hell happened to you?*

My wolf was snarling. Low. Continuous. A sound that vibrated through my skull and wouldn’t stop.

I crouched down in front of her. Forced myself to look at her face instead of her hand. Instead of the blood. Instead of the shattered mirror behind us.

"Why did you do this?"

She didn’t answer. Just stared past .

I bit down on the rage building in my chest. "Look at when I’m talking to you."

Nothing.

Nadia worked quietly beside her. Pulling out glass. Cleaning wounds. Professional. Efficient.

I ignored her.

"Irina."

Still nothing.

Her eyes were distant. Vacant. Like she was sowhere else entirely.

I knew that look.

I’d seen it at dinner. At the car. Every ti I walked into a room.

But this was different. This wasn’t fear.

This was sowhere else. Sowhere I couldn’t reach.

My jaw clenched so hard it ached.

*She punched a mirror.*

For what reason? Because she hated being here that much? Because the thought of being my mate was so unbearable she’d rather tear her own hand apart?

The thought hit like ice water.

Or maybe—

Maybe it was sothing else.

I’d been so focused on the blood. On the anger. On the sheer stupidity of punching a mirror that I hadn’t thought about *why.*

*Why* would soone do this?

The marks on her body. Layer after layer of old bruises. Injuries that should have healed weeks ago.

A wolf spirit so weak Nadia could barely sense it.

What had Maxim done to her? What had they *all* done to her?

"Is this because you don’t want to be here?" I kept my voice low. Controlled. "Because you hate it here that much?"

She blinked. Like she was coming back from sowhere far away.

And then—

She wasn’t looking at .

Her gaze had shifted. Moved past my shoulder. Toward the bathroom door.

Her entire body went rigid.

Every muscle locked up at once. Her spine went straight. Her breath caught.

I frowned. Turned slightly.

The doorway was empty now.

But I’d heard it. Just a second ago. Footsteps. Sothing falling. Soone running.

I turned back to her.

She was frozen. Completely frozen.

Like she’d seen a ghost.

"Irina." My voice ca out sharper than I intended. "What is it?"

Her mouth moved. No sound ca out at first.

Then—barely audible—

"Sister...?"

I stared at her.

"What?"

She wasn’t looking at . Wasn’t looking at anything in the room anymore. Her eyes were fixed on that empty doorway. Wide. Stunned.

"Sister." Louder this ti. More certain. "That was—that was—"

She tried to stand. Her injured hand scraped against the marble floor. She hissed in pain but kept moving.

"Miss Irina, please—" Nadia reached for her arm.

"I saw her." Irina’s voice was strange. Cracked. "I *saw* her."

I stood. Fast.

"You saw who?"

She wasn’t looking at . Still hadn’t looked at .

I was standing right in front of her, and she was looking *through* like I wasn’t even there.

The rage that had been simring in my chest since I walked through that door—since Sofia ca running to my office with her face pale and her hands shaking—boiled over.

"Hey." My voice ca out flat. Dangerous.

She didn’t react.

"Hey." Louder.

Nothing. She kept staring at the doorway. Kept murmuring under her breath. Sothing I couldn’t make out.

I’d had enough.

I reached down. Grabbed her wrist—the uninjured one—and pulled.

She ca up off the floor fast. Stumbled against .

My hand wrapped around her wrist. Her back pressed against my chest.

I spun her around to face .

She finally looked at .

For exactly half a second. Then her gaze went past my shoulder again.

My patience—what little of it I had left—snapped.

"I’m talking to you." I stepped into her line of sight. Forced her to see . "You want to ignore ? *Look at .* What the hell is wrong with you?"

Her eyes finally focused.

On my face. On .

There was sothing wild in them. Sothing I hadn’t seen before.

Not fear. Not the usual flinching terror.

Sothing closer to desperate hope.

Which made absolutely no sense.

"Enough." I reached down. Grabbed her—wrapped one arm around her waist—and lifted.

She made a strangled sound.

I carried her out of the bathroom. Two steps. Three.

Dropped her onto the bed.

She bounced against the mattress. Looked up at with wide, startled eyes.

"Stay there," I said.

"But—"

"I said stay there."

Behind , I heard Nadia follow us out of the bathroom. Heard the quiet sounds of her collecting her equipnt. Reorganizing her dical bag.

"Alpha." Her voice was gentle. Professional. "With respect—her physical condition right now may not allow for—"

I spun around.

Nadia stood a careful distance away. Hands folded. Expression steady.

But her eyes said it clearly enough.

*She is not in a state for whatever you’re planning.*

The rage that had been building all night—since Sofia ca running to my office, since I’d found Irina on that bathroom floor, since she’d spent the last ten minutes looking *through* instead of *at* —

It all rose up at once.

"Get out."