You

You grew up in a humble Lycan Werewolf household, believing yourself to be nothing more than an Omega—bottom of the food chain, invisible, expendable. You lived with your family on the fringes of a town now overrun by rogues. Well, I suppose you can't really call them rogues anymore, not when they all answer to one. The Mafia King.

He wasn’t always a king, though he was born with royal blood. His family was overthrown before he even took his first breath. While his father—the ruling king—fought for their survival, his mother ran. Hunted down like prey, she was captured, forced to marry the usurper king, and bear his children. Or was she?

She gave birth just before they found her. Everyone assumed the child was dead. You, on the other hand… well, let’s just say your own origin story wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows either. But at least you grew up with your mother—one of the many wives of the same king who slaughtered your father and stole his queen. Was your mother jealous? Not exactly. Like the new queen, your mother once belonged to another. Like her, she was forced to marry the king and produce heirs.

So, how did you end up as a lowly omega? Remember that moment I said, "—or was she?" Yeah, that part. Turns out, the new queen was the king’s fated mate. She made him banish your mother, unaware she carried his child. Lucky for your mom, the queen didn’t demand her head on a silver platter. But don’t worry about them—they’re dead. Yep, dead. Murdered by the son she left behind, the same child she abandoned and never looked back for.

Three months ago, he returned. Not as a child, but as a storm. With his own pack of rogues and humans, he came to reclaim what was rightfully his, to build a Mafia kingdom on the bones of his enemies. Why did he kill his own mother? Because she was the reason his father died. She was never his father's fated mate—just a political pawn, a bride promised in a treaty. Instead of running, she orchestrated his death to unite with her true mate. To avoid war between her original pack and the royal bloodline she married into, she chose betrayal.

The Mafia King’s childless human wife found the boy on the streets one blistering summer night and named him Davide, unaware of the supernatural fire simmering beneath his skin. When he came of age and shifted for the first time, he didn’t understand what was happening—and he accidentally killed the only parents he ever knew. But shhh, no one knows. No one knew the queen he killed three months ago was his birth mother. No one knew royal blood surged through his veins. Just like no one knows it runs through yours.

After that fatal shift, he hunted down the truth. And when he found it, he burned with one purpose: vengeance. With his fortune built on blood-stained money, he gathered Lycans—though most refused to follow him. Only the broken and the rogue dared stand by his side. His pack? Mostly Lycan women—former bed slaves, survivors who clawed their way out of hell. Don’t be fooled though—they’re not short of warriors. Not at all.

But enough about the King of Rogues—the Mafia King. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know him. Let’s talk about you.

Just a simple little omega Lycan, innocent and inexperienced. Yes, still a blushing virgin, saving herself for her fated mate—how quaint. Ever since your first shift, the boys, now men, have chased you every heat cycle like dogs driven mad by scent. Your father—not your real one, but the only one you've ever known—would scare them off with a shotgun, while your mother shouted at him to let nature take its course. Not that you were ever one with nature. No, you're a city girl. But not by choice.

Who would choose city lights over moonlit forests? Apparently, your mother. But she had her reasons. And today? Today was one of those days. You better run, sweetheart. A heat wave just slammed into town, and with a Mafia pack of rogues for neighbors… let’s just say, your virgin days are numbered.

Since finishing your degree, your routine has been blissfully simple. Wake up to breakfast and coffee delivered by mom dearest herself, served on a tray like you’re royalty. Her princess, anyway.

“Good morning, my princess,” she sings as she walks into your room.

“Mom, I’m not a little girl anymore,” you groan.

“I never said you were,” she chuckles, eyes twinkling.

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly as she places a tray of your favorite breakfast foods beside you.

“Good luck today,” she smiles, already halfway out the door.

“Thanks, Mom,” you reply, carefully lifting the tray to your lap so you don’t spill anything on your new Egyptian cotton sheets. White. Crisp. Expensive.

Yes, your family isn’t wealthy by any means, but they’ve always spoiled you on special occasions. Like the room makeover they surprised you with after your graduation. You were hoping for a car, but hey—public transport’s not that bad.

Your father—again, not biologically yours—is a restaurant manager. Your mother works for the Alpha of your pack, Alpha Chase. He’s not exactly a stellar leader, but better to be part of a half-decent pack than to go rogue. Especially with a Mafia Lycan pack breathing down your neck.

You missed the castle takeover—missed the blood, the screams, the massacre. You’d only just returned home a few days ago, and your parents hadn’t told you a word until it was over. They didn’t want to stress you out. Your dad said the fewer people in danger, the better. And besides, this town—more of a bustling city, really—wasn’t likely to be a target.

Today is big. Your first job interview. Okay, it’s just for an intern position, but hey—it’s a start.

After devouring your breakfast, you shower until the water runs cold. You spend over an hour fussing with your hair and still can’t decide on a lip color. Luckily, you’ve always had a good sense of style. Picking your outfit? Easy. Everyone knows you wear a tailored suit to your first interview.

“You’re going to be late if you don’t leave now!” your mom calls from the kitchen.

The office is just around the corner. You slip on your high heels, check yourself out one last time, and admire the sleek suit you scored at a thrift store. Total bargain.

“Are you seriously planning to walk in those?” your mom asks, a half-smile tugging at her lips.

You were about to remind her that you’ve danced through entire nights in stilettos twice that high—but then thought better of it. No need to burst her precious princess bubble. At least you weren’t sleeping through those nights. Sorry for the bluntness—but don't worry, sweet virgin. Not for long.

“It’s just around the corner,” you say with a grin and head out the door, heels clicking with purpose.