Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King Chapter 83

Nicolas’s POV

I’d been feeding her for three days and I still wasn’t used to it.

"Open," I said.

She did. Obediently. The way she always did, that automatic compliance that I was starting to hate in a specific way. Not because it was directed at . Because it existed at all. Because soone had trained it into her and she’d never gotten the chance to train it back out.

The spoon went in. She swallowed. I refilled it.

"You know I can feed yourself," she said quietly. "The shoulder’s better. I can—"

"I know."

"Then why—"

"Because I want to." I looked at her. "Is that a problem?"

She blinked. Shook her head. "No. I just—"

"Then stop arguing."

Her mouth closed. But sothing moved in her eyes—sothing that might have been amusent, or confusion, or both. I couldn’t tell yet. I was still learning how to read her face when it wasn’t shutting down.

I filled the spoon again. Brought it to her mouth.

She took it.

This ti she didn’t look away.

---

The knock ca ten minutes later.

I knew it was Roman before the door opened.

"Co in," I said.

The door opened.

Roman stepped through. He looked at the scene— in the chair beside the bed, Irina propped up on pillows with a blanket over her lap, the bowl in my hand—and his face did that thing where he was clearly filing the information away for future reference but wasn’t going to comnt on it now.

"Sir," he said. "I need a mont."

I looked at the bowl. Three-quarters empty. She’d eaten more today than yesterday. That was progress.

I set it on the side table.

"I’ll be right back," I told Irina.

She nodded.

I stood up. Crossed to the door. Roman stepped back into the corridor and I followed, pulling the door most of the way closed behind .

Roman waited exactly two seconds.

"The Iron Thorn territory," he said. "It’s destabilizing faster than we projected."

I leaned against the wall. "How fast."

Roman’s jaw tightened. "Sir—"

"They’re leaderless because their alpha ran like a coward in front of three hundred witnesses," I said. "If they want to tear themselves apart over who gets to pick up the pieces, that’s their business."

"It becos our business when the instability spreads," Roman said. Calm. Factual. The voice he used when he was about to tell sothing I didn’t want to hear. "Two neighboring packs have already started making moves on Iron Thorn’s border zones. Testing. Seeing how far they can push before soone pushes back." He paused. "If we let this go on, we’re looking at a territory war within the month. Multiple packs. Civilian casualties. The kind of ss that takes years to clean up."

I looked at him.

He held my gaze. Steady. Professional. Doing his job.

"What do you want to do," I said.

"Go there," Roman said. "Personally. Make it clear that Iron Thorn is under your direct oversight until further notice. Appoint an interim authority—soone we control, soone who’ll keep the peace until we can arrange proper elections." He tilted his head slightly. "It’s the fastest way to shut this down before it spreads."

I didn’t say anything for three seconds.

Roman waited.

"How long," I said.

"To stabilize? A week. Maybe ten days if there’s significant resistance." He paused. "You wouldn’t have to stay the entire ti. Andrei and I can handle the ground work once you’ve made the initial appearance. But they need to see you first. They need to understand that this territory is not up for negotiation."

I looked at the door.

At the narrow gap where I could just see the edge of the bed. The pale hair against the pillow. The specific stillness she had when she was resting but not actually sleeping—the stillness of soone who’d learned to fake sleep because it was safer than being visibly awake.

"Fine," I said.

Roman’s shoulders dropped half an inch. "Thank you, sir."

"But I’m not going tomorrow," I said. "I go when she’s stable enough to hear it without thinking I’m abandoning her. You give two more days."

Roman opened his mouth. Stopped. Calculated sothing behind his eyes.

"Two days," he said. "Agreed."

"And Roman."

"Sir?"

"You make sure—absolutely sure—that this building is locked down while I’m gone. No one gets in who isn’t cleared by you personally. No exceptions. I don’t care if it’s another alpha king. If they’re not on your list, they don’t get past the front door."

"Understood."

"Good." I pushed off the wall. "Now get out. I’m not done feeding her."

Roman’s mouth twitched. Just barely. The closest thing to a smile I’d seen from him in days.

"Yes, sir," he said.

He left.

I stood there for another five seconds. Looking at the door. At the gap. At the pale hair and the stillness and the specific, fragile thing that was currently in that room waiting for to co back.

I opened the door.

She looked up when I ca in.

Sothing in her face changed. Not relief—not quite. But sothing in the sa neighborhood. Like she’d been holding her breath and was only now letting it go.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Fine," I said. "Pack business. Nothing urgent."

That was a lie. I didn’t lie to her often—didn’t see the point, usually—but this one felt necessary. She didn’t need to know about the Iron Thorn situation yet. She didn’t need to know that I was going to have to leave in two days.

Two days.

I’d tell her in two days.

I sat back down. Picked up the bowl.

"You’re not done," I said.

She looked at the bowl. Then at . "I’m really not that hungry."

"I don’t care." I filled the spoon. "You’re eating for two now. Doctor’s orders."

Her hand moved to her stomach. That automatic gesture she’d started doing in the last three days—protective, unconscious, like her body had figured out sothing her brain was still processing.

"Open," I said.

She did.

I fed her the rest of the bowl in silence. She took every bite without arguing. That should have felt like a victory. It didn’t.

When the bowl was empty, I set it aside.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Tired," she said. Honest. "Sore. But better than yesterday."

"Good."

"Nicolas."

I looked at her.

She was watching with that expression—the one I hadn’t learned how to read yet. Careful. Uncertain. Like she was trying to figure out whether she was allowed to ask sothing.

"What," I said.

"You don’t have to stay here," she said quietly. "I know you have—things. Important things. You don’t have to sit here and feed soup like I’m—"

"Like you’re what."

She stopped. Her throat moved. "Like I’m soone who matters."

The room went very still.

I looked at her. At the pale hair and the blue eyes and the specific, learned smallness that she wore like armor.

"You’re my mate," I said. "You’re carrying my child. If you don’t matter, nothing does."

She stared at .

I reached out. Took her hand. Carefully. The way I’d been doing everything for three days—carefully, consciously, like I was relearning how to use my own strength.

"I’m not going anywhere," I said. "Not yet."

"Not yet," she repeated. Quiet. Like she’d heard the unspoken part.

*Fuck.*

"There’s sothing I need to handle," I said. "In a few days. Pack business. It’s going to take away for maybe a week." I squeezed her hand. Gentle. "But not now. Not today. Not until you’re ready to hear it without thinking I’m walking out on you."

Her eyes were very wide.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay?"

"Okay." She nodded. Small. "I—thank you. For telling ."

Sothing in my chest shifted.

I pulled her hand to my mouth. Kissed her knuckles. Once. She made a small sound—surprise, maybe, or sothing else—and I looked up and found her staring at with that expression again, the one that was too many things at once.

"Get so rest," I said. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

She nodded.

I stayed in the chair. Watched her eyes close. Watched her breathing even out. Watched the specific stillness settle over her that ant she’d finally stopped fighting sleep.

The knock ca again twenty minutes later.

Roman. Again.

I didn’t get up this ti. Just tilted my head toward the door.

He opened it. Stepped halfway in. Looked at her—asleep, finally, properly asleep—and kept his voice low.

"We need to talk about her care while you’re gone," he said.

I looked at him.

"Sofia’s good," he said. "But she’s young. Inexperienced. If sothing happens—dical, security, anything—she’s going to be out of her depth." He paused. "We should bring in soone with more experience. Soone who knows how to handle—"

"Sofia stays," I said. Quiet. Firm. "Irina trusts her. That matters more than experience."