Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King

Chapter 207: Chapter 207

Irina’s POV

"Luna..."

The word slipped past his cracked, bloodstained lips. It was nothing more than a raspy, painful whisper. But to my ears, it sounded like a roaring thunderclap.

He was alive. He was actually alive.

My heart slammed wildly against my ribs. The crushing exhaustion from using my magic instantly vanished. A massive surge of pure adrenaline shot straight through my freezing veins.

"I’m here," I choked out.

I scrambled forward on my hands and knees. The icy mud soaked through my jeans again, but I didn’t care. I leaned over the massive warrior.

"Luna, let me," Roman said from behind me.

"No!" I snapped. "Help me get him up. Carefully!"

Roman immediately stepped forward. He crouched down on the other side of the wounded warrior. Together, we grabbed his heavy, broad shoulders. His tactical armor was completely shredded, soaked in a horrifying mixture of mud and his own dark blood.

He groaned in agony as we moved him.

"I know, I know," I whispered frantically. "Just lean on me. You’re okay. You’re safe now."

I strained my back, pulling with all my pathetic human strength. Roman did most of the heavy lifting. We managed to pull the warrior up from the pile of dead bodies. We dragged him a few feet away and gently propped his back against a massive, moss-covered boulder.

The warrior’s head rolled to the side. He coughed violently. A bit of leftover blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, but his breathing was deep. It was strong.

His hazy eyes slowly blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the misty dark.

He looked down at his own body. He stared at his chest. He saw the gaping, torn holes in his heavy armor. He saw the massive amounts of blood coating his stomach.

His shaking hands reached down. He touched his own skin beneath the torn Kevlar.

He expected to feel his own intestines. He expected to feel a fatal, gaping wound. Instead, his fingers brushed against smooth, fully healed skin. There wasn’t even a scar left behind.

His breath hitched loudly.

He looked back up at me. His eyes were wide. They were filled with absolute shock and pure terror.

"I..." he stammered, his voice breaking. "I was dead. Luna, I was gone. I felt the cold."

"Shh," I said gently. I reached out and grabbed his freezing, trembling hands. "You’re not dead. You are right here. You are alive."

The reality of the situation suddenly crashed down on him. The adrenaline of the battle faded. The horrifying trauma of the slaughter around us hit him like a freight train.

This massive, heavily scarred, terrifying wolf completely broke down.

Tears immediately flooded his eyes. They spilled over his thick eyelashes, washing away the dried blood and grime on his cheeks. His chest heaved with violent, ugly sobs.

He collapsed forward. He grabbed my hands and pressed them against his forehead, weeping hysterically.

"Thank you," he cried loudly. "Goddess, thank you. You saved me. I was dead, Luna. I swear I was dead. Thank you!"

His heavy tears dripped directly onto my bloody knuckles. He was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering.

"It’s okay," I whispered softly.

My own tears started falling again. I squeezed his big, rough hands tightly. I wanted to let him cry. I wanted to give him the time to process the absolute miracle of his survival.

But I couldn’t.

I just couldn’t. I was suffocating. Every single second that passed without Nicholas felt like a burning knife twisting in my heart. The mate bond was still totally silent. It was a terrifying, empty black hole in my chest.

My patience completely shattered. The selfish, desperate panic took over completely.

"Hey," I said, my voice rising. "Hey, look at me."

The warrior kept crying, his head bowed over my hands.

"Look at me!" I demanded sharply.

My tone was loud and commanding. The authoritative voice of a Luna.

The warrior gasped and immediately snapped his head up. His red, tear-filled eyes locked onto mine. He sniffled, trying to pull himself together.

I let go of his hands and grabbed the thick collar of his ruined jacket. I pulled him slightly toward me.

"Where is he?" I begged, my voice breaking on the words. "Where is the Alpha?"

The warrior froze. The pure relief on his face vanished in a split second. It was instantly replaced by a deep, haunting fear.

"The... the King?" he stammered.

"Yes!" I cried out. I shook his collar gently. "Nicholas! Where is my mate? Did you see him? Was he with you?"

Andrei stepped up right behind me. His massive presence was heavy and tense. He leaned in close.

"Think hard, brother," Andrei ordered in a low, gravelly growl. "Where was the Alpha King when you went down?"

The warrior swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously in his thick throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. He was trying to push through the heavy fog of pain and battle trauma.

"It was chaos," the warrior whispered frantically. "Absolute chaos. They ambushed us. There were too many. They came out of the shadows."

"I don’t care about them!" I screamed. I couldn’t control my emotions anymore. "I only care about him! Where is Nicholas?"

The warrior opened his eyes. He looked past me, staring out into the misty, bloody clearing.

Then, he slowly raised his right arm.

His thick, trembling finger pointed out into the dark.

I immediately whipped my head around. I followed his shaking finger. He was pointing toward the far edge of the valley. It was a steep, jagged hillside, heavily covered in thick pine trees and deep shadows.

"There," the warrior choked out.

"What?" I gasped, turning back to him. "What happened there?"

"The hillside," he whispered, his eyes wide and haunted. "Right before I got hit. Right before the metal pierced my stomach. I looked up."

My heart stopped beating. The entire world around me completely vanished. There was no Roman, no Andrei, no bloody battlefield. There was only this warrior, and the words coming out of his mouth.

"What did you see?" I asked. My voice was nothing but a tiny, fragile breath.

"I saw the King," the warrior said.

A loud sob tore out of my throat. I pressed my hand hard against my mouth.

"He was on the hill," the warrior continued, his voice trembling violently. "But he wasn’t fighting anymore. The last thing I saw before I passed out... before everything went completely black..."

He hesitated. He looked at me with pure, devastating sorrow.

"What?" Andrei roared, grabbing the warrior’s shoulder. "Spit it out!"

"I saw the Alpha being carried away," the warrior cried out. "They were carrying him. A group of them. They hoisted him up and dragged him right over that hillside. They took him into the trees."

My blood instantly turned to absolute ice.

Carried away.

Nicholas didn’t retreat. Nicholas didn’t run. Nicholas never let anyone carry him unless he was completely incapable of walking. Unless he was completely broken.

My head spun wildly. The dark void in my chest pulsed with terrifying agony.

I leaned forward. I grabbed both sides of the warrior’s face. My fingers dug into his cheeks. I stared directly into his terrified eyes. I needed the truth. I needed to know, even if it killed me on the spot.

"Was he alive?" I asked, my voice completely hollow and dead. "Is the Alpha still alive?"

The warrior stared at my pale, desperate face. A fresh tear slid down his cheek. He slowly, painfully, shook his heavy head.

"I don’t know."