Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King Chapter 80

Irina’s POV

I went still.

"You have my gift," she said. "My mark. The wolf I placed inside you."

And then I said the only true thing I could think of: "I don’t have a wolf."

The words ca out flat. Old. The specific flatness of a fact you’ve said so many tis it’s lost all its edges. "She never—she didn’t co. When Maxim—when the rejection happened, she didn’t co. I don’t have one."

The woman looked at .

Sothing in her expression shifted. Not disagreent. The look of soone who knows sothing and is about to show you the proof of it.

She raised her hand. A slow, unhurried gesture—palm out, fingers open, like she was gesturing soone through a door.

And behind her, the fog moved.

I watched it. The white pulling back, that thick impossible air parting—

Sothing stepped through.

Gray-white, like smoke given form, like the fog itself had decided to take a shape. Four paws, silent on the grass. A muzzle. Ears forward. Eyes that were—

That were *mine.*

I’d never seen them before and I knew them imdiately. The way you know a word in a language you don’t speak but heard once as a child and never forgot. The way you know a sll from before mory.

Her eyes were my eyes.

She was—

She looked at . Her whole body went still. Like she’d been waiting too. Like the waiting had been hers as much as mine.

Sothing collapsed in my chest.

I moved.

I didn’t decide to move. It happened the way breathing happened, the way flinching happened—before thought, under thought, so part of that didn’t need permission.

I crossed the distance and hit my knees and my arms went around her neck and she was *real,* she was solid, warm and living and real, her fur thick against my face, and she made a sound that wasn’t words but was absolutely language, sothing low and soft that went straight through my sternum.

She pressed her nose into my hair.

I was crying.

I didn’t know when that had started. My throat was hot and my eyes were wet and I didn’t care, I couldn’t care, I was on my knees in a fog adow wrapped around the wolf I’d spent a year believing was gone, that I’d mourned like a death, that I’d stopped letting myself think about because thinking about it felt like pressing on a wound that wasn’t going to close—

She butted her head gently against my cheek.

*I know,* that gesture said. *I know. I’ve been here.*

"I thought you were gone," I said. My voice cracked straight down the middle. "I thought—he said you were gone, that the bond broke, that you weren’t—" I pulled back enough to look at her face. Her ears were forward, her eyes steady, that warm-smoke color that I recognized like my own reflection. "I thought I’d lost you."

She licked my face once. Deliberate. Unimpressed.

I laughed. It ca out wet and broken and real.

I pressed my forehead to hers. Stayed there. Let myself breathe.

Behind , the woman—the goddess—spoke.

"She has always been here," she said. Her voice was soft, not unkind. "Hurt. Withdrawn. But never gone."

I turned. Looked at her over my wolf’s shoulder.

"Why," I said. "Why couldn’t I—why didn’t she—"

"Because *you* were not ready." Simply. "A wolf and her human are one thing. When the human goes sowhere the wolf cannot follow—" She spread her hands. "She waits. She holds. She does what she can."

I thought about a year of not healing. A year of feeling hollow in a specific way, a specific absence that I’d tried not to na.

She’d been holding.

This whole ti.

The tears were still coming. I wasn’t trying to stop them.

"What happens now?" I said.

The goddess looked at with that calm, grief-edged expression.

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"That," she said, "is already beginning."

I stared at her. "What does that an?"

She didn’t answer the question directly. She never did—I was starting to understand that about her. She spoke sideways, around things, the way soone speaks when they know the full answer would break sothing important before it had a chance to form.

"Your wolf," she said. "She was never taken from you. What was damaged was the *path* between you." She looked at the wolf still pressed against my side, warm and solid and real. "The path is clearing."

"Because of the bond?" I said. "Because Nicolas—"

"Because *you.*" Her eyes ca back to . "The bond helped. But it was you, Irina. Every choice you made in that building. Every ti you chose to stay when leaving felt easier. Every ti you let sothing in instead of shutting it out." A pause. "She felt all of it. She’s been feeling it."

My hand tightened in my wolf’s fur.

"She’s coming back," I said. Not a question. I needed to hear myself say it.

"She is already back," the goddess said simply. "What cos with her—that will take ti. That will take you." She tilted her head. "There are things inside you that you have not found yet. Abilities that belong to you and have always belonged to you. They’ve been waiting, the sa way she’s been waiting."

"What abilities?" I said. "What are you—can you tell specifically, can you just *tell* —"

She smiled. Patient. "I could. But you would not understand the words until you’d already found the thing they described." She looked at steadily. "You will know them when they co. And they will co." A pause. "You are not what they told you you were. You were never what they told you you were."

Sothing about the way she said it—the specific, quiet certainty of it—made my throat close.

I pressed my mouth flat.

"Okay," I managed. "Okay. But—I need more than that. I need to know what to *do*, I need to know how long, I need to know—"

"Irina."

Just my na. Soft.

I stopped.

The goddess rose from the grass. She was taller standing than she’d looked sitting. The white of her clothing moved like it had weight to it, like fabric that wasn’t entirely fabric. She crossed to and put one hand against my face—her palm cool and dry and impossibly gentle—and looked at the way I’d always imagined being looked at.

Like I mattered. Unconditionally. Without condition or caveat or the implicit asterisk of *but only if.*

My eyes burned.

"You have questions," she said. "You will always have questions. That is not a flaw." Her thumb traced my cheekbone. "But the answers you need most are not here." Her eyes were very calm. "They are there. With him. In that room."

"He’s—" My voice ca out rough. "Is he okay? After Maxim—"

"Go see for yourself." The corner of her mouth moved. "That is the answer to that question."

I exhaled.

The fog was shifting. I could feel it at the edges of everything—a change in the quality of the air, the light going different, the flowers at my feet becoming sohow *less,* like the details were being gently erased. My wolf turned her head. Her ears went flat, then forward. Listening to sothing I couldn’t hear yet.

"Wait—" I turned back. "Please. Just—a little longer. I don’t know when I’ll be able to—"

"You will find ," the goddess said. "When you need to." She was already less distinct, the white of her clothing bleeding into the white of the air. "That is also new. That is also yours."

The wind was starting.

I felt it first at my ankles. Rising.

"*Go,*" she said. Gentle. Absolute. "Go back to the one who is terrified that he has lost you. Go back and let him see that you are still here."

I looked at my wolf.

She looked back at . Those eyes—my eyes—steady and sure.

*Go,* she said, without saying it.

I reached for the goddess one more ti—

And then the wind hit.

It ca from everywhere at once, from inside the fog and under the grass and from sowhere above the white sky—not cold, not warm, just *force,* and it lifted , actually *lifted* , my feet off the ground, the flowers blurring past, my wolf’s face the last thing I saw before the adow dissolved into nothing—

*Weightless.*

For one impossible second, completely weightless.

And then sothing slamd back into focus.

Light. Hard, bright, real light. Not white-soft. Ceiling. Actual ceiling. Stone and plaster and a lamp throwing yellow across the corner.

I opened my eyes.