The Mafia Kings Pet [ M×M]

Alpha Damon's POV 

I stormed down the corridor, my wolf clawing beneath my skin like it wanted me to turn back and finish what I didn't finish.

My jaw tightened. I could still feel the warmth of her trembling body beneath my grip. The fire burning behind those terrified eyes. The way she continued to squirm, I couldn't banish the image of her pinned under me, while I ravaged her from the back... 

I shook my head to remove all the projections my wolf dax continued to put into my head, even though it looked so damn tempting.

Because something was wrong. I could feel it deep in my bones. An instinct that has been there since I was a pup. But no matter how I tried, I couldn't find anything.

And that scent...

All I knew was that something was off about her. Especially her scent. 

I didn't know why, but my wolf became increasingly agitated just from her mere presence. It has never happened before, not with my numerous concubines and slaves I have slept with and definitely never with a pet.

And that's the problem, because this particular pet has been ever since she came, she had managed to disobey me three times and had gotten away with it. 

I growled in frustration. Was I becoming too lenient nowadays, or was it something more...

If James hadn't interrupted ...

I shoved the thought away. This wasn't the time.

"Why now?" I snapped at Rafe without looking at him. "That girl was seconds away from losing her throat."

He didn't flinch. He never did.

"They're waiting in the War Room," he said simply.

I paused at that.

"They" meant only one thing, 

The Veretti Clan. Our neighboring mafia pack.

We'd been at a tense competition and rivalry for years. A here and there clash of my men with his scuffles about pack borders that crop up almost too often and enough bloody history to fill several graves. But what I didn't was for them to visit in person only meant one thing:

Something dangerous was brewing.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to suppress the bloodlust still pumping through me. And make myself presentable and prepared for war.

"Focus, that pet can wait." I mumbled to myself as I pushed the door to the war room open, composed and calm outside, but inside was a heat of chaos.

Three men sat inside, well dressed, and by their guards. 

The Veretti mafia gangsters.

The first born, Luca Veretti, is always the smooth talker but a manipulative and sharp edge. Simply put a backstabbing snake.

His brother, Enzo, is more forward in his approach, brutal and bloodthirsty. He thinks through his muscles. 

And finally, their old man, Don Matteo, the source of my contact headache for years. I was shocked he was still healthy and alive despite every hit I'd put out on him in the past.

"Lord Damon," Don Matteo said smoothly, his lips curving in a smooth smirk. "Hope we didn't catch you at a bad time."

I chose to say nothing. Just took my seat at the head of the table, staring him down. "Speake".

Don Matteo's eyes narrowed. "Your pack has been awfully busy lately. Word travels fast these days if you have the means. Rumors... of a new pet?"

My expression didn't shift, I wouldn't give them that joy of catching me off guard, but my jaw tensed slightly.

So that's what this was.

They had heard of my new pet and had come to pay tribute.

Wolves like them didn't just come for territory. They came for leverage and to poke at your Weakness.

My eyes fell on the lean girl kneeling beside Matteo. She was chained at the wrist and continued to tremble. My nostrils flared at her scent, weakened, starved, desperation.

In our world. The alphas are the rulers of territories we call turf, or locally known as pack. Alphas are the strongest known rank of my kind, followed by Betas, who are always warriors. Then, the normal pack members who aren't ranked but are still strong and can defend themselves in time of war.

But of all this, there is one that is rarely seen. They are called Omegas . People mostly call them pets. And alpha's pride themselves on the number of pets they have. But that's the problem, for omegas only appear in every thousand werewolves, and to be honest, we are not much in number.

But if we are talking about the rarely seen type, the male omegas... 

"Is that thing supposed to be your pet?" I asked, voice laced with disgust. "She looks like she's one meal away from death. Is your pack starving, matteo? Or have your standards just dropped that low?"

I watch his smile drop a few inches. "She's merely one of my numerous pets. You know they are the omegas that are the most obedient of our kind. The perfect leash for a man of power like me." He paused.

"You wouldn't know because all of your past pets mysteriously ended up dead before one year" he sips his wine, and the tension in the room rises unimaginably fast. "Ohh did I speak too much..."

I leaned forward, barely controlling my rage. "You have 5 minutes to speak and leave my turf. Else...."

"Lethal and closed off as always" He placed a scroll of contracts on the table. "I need the Warfangs. Twenty of them, you're very best."

James, who stood to my right, shifted slightly.

I narrowed my eyes. "For what purpose?"

"To quell a rebellion. Rogues are rising in my western borders. Organized and mysteriously, they are not your average mutts. I need to borrow manpower from you. a temporary force to strike fear and restore order."

I drummed my fingers against the table. I already know how this would end. "And what do you offer in return?"

Luca straightened, a little clap of his hand, and the doors opened. His men dragged a figure behind them. "This is Mirriam. A female omega. And she knows how to satisfy even the most dangerous beast."

I looked up, my irritation already simmering beneath the surface from the earlier interruption.

And there she was.

A girl, young, maybe seventeen, if not younger. With a starved pale malnourished looking body. 

"Apologies for the delay," Luca, his son, said smoothly, gesturing toward the girl. "We thought you'd appreciate a peace offering. A token from our eastern lands."

Token?

The girl trembled under everyone's gaze, eyes downcast like she'd been trained to never look up.

The entire room fell into a tense, almost awkward silence.

My wolf recoiled, not in pity, but in disgust.

I stood from my seat slowly, walking toward her with quiet steps. The Veretti guards stiffened. I didn't care.

I circled her once. The smell of dirt, desperation, and shame clung to her like a second skin.

"This," I said flatly, "is what you bring to my home?"

Luca blinked innocently. "She's well-trained. A little shy, maybe. But loyal."

My eyes snapped back to him, and for a moment, I let my aura slip out, sharp, deadly, unfiltered rage laced with alpha authority.

"She's malnourished," I growled, voice low and biting. "Is your pack starving? Or is it just your pride that's shrinking?"

The girl whimpered.

Luca's smirk faltered.

Don Matteo's eyes narrowed. Enzo leaned forward as if deciding whether to react with violence or indifference.

"Careful, Damon," Luca finally said, his voice forced calm. "We're here for peace."

I ignored him, the sound of my steps echoing through the room as I took steps after steps, my eyes glowing red. My wolf dax was almost at the surface right now.

"No. I reject your offer." My voice rang loud and clear in the War Room.