THE LUPINE MAFIA

JAXON VOXX

The old Lupino estate in Ashwood was wrapped in shadows,dark wood paneling, ancient wolf sigils etched into the stone walls, and the kind of silence that only came with centuries of blood-stained tradition. I sat at the long, polished dining table, my expression as cold as the steel I kept tucked in my coat, listening yet again to my grandfather's rant.

"You lack discipline," Dante Lupino barked, his voice sharp with disappointment. "What have you been doing since her death? Drowning in guilt? Partying? Hiding behind your empire of clubs and smoke? This is my fault, I spoiled you. You are incomplete, Jaxon. Without a mate, you can't inherit the Lupino Mafia empire. You will never be Lord of the Pack. So either get yourself one, or forget the family business."

I didn't flinch. Just stared, stone-faced, letting the words flow past like they always did. Same damn speech, same worn-out threats. The old man never got tired.

A Mafia heir without a wife is a disgrace. Rafael is married. Rafael has heirs. Rafael knows his place. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Grandpa sighed, his voice lowering as he added, "You know I love you and your brother. But if you don't step up, I'll hand everything over to Rafael. And you need to move on from her. I know it's hard, but you have to forgive yourself ,especially after killing her."

That one hit. My fist clenched beneath the table, jaw tight. Must he always bring her up?

The meeting ended with me storming out, fury simmering in my chest. I shoved past Rafael in the hallway. He smirked at me like a smug bastard, and I barely restrained myself from slamming his face into the wall.

My phone buzzed. Luca.

"The delivery deal went to hell," he said. "Your guy ran off with the stash. We found him. Basement of the club. He's waiting."

Perfect. I needed a release.

I made it to the underground club in record time. In the basement, the traitor sat strapped to a metal chair ,sweaty, shaking, pathetic.

"Where's my product?" I asked, lighting a blunt as I sat across from him.

"I-I don't know, Jaxon. I swear I don't know what happened."

I reached out. Luca placed a pistol in my hand. I shot him in the foot.

"I want answers. Not stuttering."

"He's not ready to talk," Luca muttered. "Should I give him the Jaxon treatment?"

I took a slow drag and nodded. "But roll me another blunt first."

Luca handed me a fresh one, lit it. Then called in one of the boys. The Jaxon method my personal signature wasn't for the weak. We started with fingernails.

Still, the bastard held out.

I lost my patience. Shot him straight in the balls.

That did it.

He screamed, then cracked spilled everything. Turns out, he was a goddamn spy. Working with Rafael. Trying to sabotage my operation from within.

My blood boiled. My veins pulsed with rage. I emptied two bullets into his skull and walked out without a second thought.

"Clean it up," I ordered Luca.

By the time I reached Rafael's house, I was fire and fury. He was lounging on the couch like the smug prick he was. Laughing.

I didn't even speak. Just punched him so hard he hit the floor.

"You out of your mind?!" he roared.

"No. I'm crazy," I snapped. "Crazy enough to bury you. Next time you mess with my business, I'll put you six feet under before Grandpa even realizes you're gone."

I left him stunned, slammed the door on the way out, and drove home with blood on my knuckles and a storm in my chest.

At the penthouse, I washed up, collapsed on my bed, and like always my mind went to her.

Aveline Storm.

She was my mate. My anchor. The only one who ever loved me for who I was monster and all. She never judged, never ran. But I ruined everything. I hurt her. And when she slept with him, I broke. I did the unforgivable.

And now she's gone.

I must've fallen asleep thinking about her, because the next thing I knew, I was wide awake and aching.

I pulled on casual clothes and headed straight to the underground club. My distraction. My sanctuary. The club was one of the biggest in Milan famous for its exclusivity, its indulgence, its secrets. Celebrities, politicians, sex, and drugs all under my roof.

I entered through the back, headed to VIP.

And that's when I saw her.

Behind the bar, laughing with another woman. Her eyes sparkled, and when she looked up, our gazes locked. Time froze.

She didn't know it yet.

But tonight... she's mine.

I gave a subtle signal with my fingers, and she walked toward me ,confident, graceful, and even more stunning up close.

She was 5'6", slender but with soft curves that made my wolf stir. Her creamy caramel skin glowed under the low lights of the club, smooth and warm like silk. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, and those almond-shaped hazel eyes, with flecks of green and gold stared back at me, curious. A heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, small nose, and a full pink mouth completed the view. She wore a black corset, dark jeans hugging her hips, and boots that clicked softly with each step.

I didn't hide the fact that I was checking her out. I didn't care to.

I was mid-thought, devouring her with my eyes, when her soft voice pulled me back to the present.

"Ermm... are you done? And what should I get you?" she asked, flashing a warm smile.

"Vodka," I said coolly, locking eyes with her.

She nodded and disappeared behind the bar. I watched her walk away, her curves swaying effortlessly. After a minute, her coworker approached my table to deliver the drink. I slipped her a note and nodded toward the girl in the corset.

I watched as the note reached her hands. She read it. Her gaze flicked to me with an unreadable expression before she whispered something to her friend and they both burst into laughter.

Interesting.

She approached me slowly and smirked. "I'm in."

Without another word, I led her to one of the VIP rooms.

The door clicked shut behind us.

I cupped her face and kissed her like my life depended on it ,like I needed her to breathe. She broke the kiss briefly and whispered against my lips, "What do you want from me?"

I gave a lazy smile. "It's in the note. One drink. One hour. One hundred dollars. And the chance to find out if you taste as sweet as you blush. You've given me the drink. Why not the rest?"

She hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering with thought, then pushed me gently until I landed fully on the couch. Climbing onto my lap, she kissed me again ,hungry this time.

I groaned as her fingers tangled in my hair. I kissed down her jawline, her neck. Her moans filled the room, soft and sweet.

I lifted her from my lap and carried her to the bed.

"I want to watch you undress," I said, my voice thick with command.

She hesitated, then nodded. Slowly, she removed her corset, then her boots. The jeans came off last, leaving her in a black lace bra and matching panties. She stood still, letting me take in every inch.

I stepped toward her and turned her around, letting her backside press against my bulging cock. She rubbed harder, letting out a soft moan.

Her fingers worked their way to my belt, unbuckling it with purpose. The moment her hand touched me, I growled low in my throat,the kind I hadn't made since mating Aveline.

I spun her around, grabbed her ass, and pulled her to me. Our mouths crashed together in a rough kiss.

My hands roamed her body, one sliding between her legs, teasing her slit. She gasped and bucked into my fingers as I trailed kisses down her stomach.

I slipped a finger inside her, curling it just right while she jerked against me. When I pulled away, I offered my finger to her.

"Taste yourself," I said.

She did ,eagerly.

I dropped to my knees, placed her legs over my shoulders, and buried my face between her thighs. Her fingers clutched the sheets as she screamed my name and came hard on my tongue. I licked her clean and kissed her deeply, letting her taste the pleasure I'd drawn from her.

She reached for my trousers and helped me out of them. I took one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking greedily. She wrapped her fingers around my cock, stroking it with skill that made my body tense and my breath catch.

Her eyes widened slightly when I was fully exposed.

I handed her a condom. "Put it on," I said.

With shaky fingers, she slid it on, and I guided myself into her, thrusting deep into her wet heat.

She screamed, "Harder ,please, harder!"

"Say it," I growled, gripping her hips tightly.

"Say what?"

"Say you belong to me."

"I belong to you. You and you alone," she cried out, squirting around my cock as she came again.

But I wasn't done.

She pushed me onto the bed and straddled me, eyes locked with mine. "Tell me how to please you," she whispered, her voice sinful.

"Ride me."

She did, and I watched every bounce of her body, the way her breasts moved, the way her moans filled the room.

I grabbed one breast in my mouth, palming the other. She leaned in, kissing me wildly, then trailed kisses across my face, down to my neck and ears. When she sucked on my nipple, I growled louder than before and spilled into her with a deep, shuddering climax.

We collapsed beside each other, breathing heavily. No words.

Sleep came quickly.

When I woke before dawn, she was still asleep ,naked, tangled in the sheets.

I got dressed, dropped a hundred-dollar bill.

Then I left.

By the time I got to the penthouse, Grandpa and Rafael were waiting for me.

I sighed under my breath.

"Of all the people I didn't want to see this morning... it had to be these two."

Astrid Wilder

I woke up in an empty room with the echo of last night clinging to my skin. A folded note and a crisp hundred-dollar bill lay on the bedside table. My heart sank.

Really? A hundred bucks? That's what I'm worth now?

Shame wrapped around me like a second skin. I pulled the sheet tighter against my body, trying to forget the feel of his hands, his voice, the way he looked at me like I was everything,only to disappear like I was nothing.

I've never felt so cheap.

But desperate times... they don't just call for desperate measures. They scream for them.

Life hasn't been kind. My name is Astrid Wilder. I'm twenty-five, and I've been hustling to survive ever since my dad abandoned us. He knocked up his secretary and walked out like we were nothing. At first, Mom and I were okay ,we managed. But then the illness came. Stomach cancer. Stage four. Six months to live, the doctors said.

I dropped out of college, begged my father for help, and when he said no... I did what I had to do. Two jobs, endless bills, and now... this. A stranger's bed, a hundred-dollar bill, and a guilt I can't scrub off.

A knock at the door jerked me from my spiral.

I threw on my clothes quickly, smoothing my shirt as I opened it. Freya Winter stood there, arms crossed, lips curved into a smirk.

"Well, look who's finally up. Come on, let's get going and yes, I need the full rundown of last night."

I couldn't help but chuckle, cheeks burning.

Freya's my best friend ,has been since college. Unlike me, she's flawless without even trying. Radiant skin, killer curves, and the kind of confidence I fake on my best days. She's wild, unapologetic, and somehow always knows when I need her.

"We're going to see Mom?" she asked as we stepped out into the sunlight.

"Yeah," I mumbled, heart heavy.

Freya knows Mom well. Ever since things went downhill, I've been living with her. She took me and Mom in without hesitation. We split the bills. She cooks, listens, and gives me strength when I'm falling apart.

The drive to the hospital was quiet, the kind of silence that hugs pain rather than avoids it. We stopped to grab some apples, Mom's favorite, and twenty minutes later, we were in her hospital room.

She was sleeping peacefully.

We sat there for nearly an hour, just watching her breathe. I peeled an apple, placed a note by her bedside, and kissed her forehead gently.

I'll come back after my shift, Mom. Rest well.

My night shift started at 10 PM. I work at one of the elite clubs in town, serving drinks, dodging creeps, pretending like I'm okay.

When we got home, I headed straight for a hot bath. Steam curled around me as I sank into the water, but my thoughts betrayed me.

Him.

I didn't even know his name. But God,those eyes. That body. That voice like gravel dipped in honey. We locked eyes across the club and I felt... something. Not love. Not even lust.

Something deeper. Something dangerous.

When he touched me, my body responded like it had known him forever. I hadn't planned it. I hadn't planned anything. But I gave in and it was earth-shattering.

The way he pinned me down, the deep groan of his voice, the way he filled me like he belonged there.

I shook the memory away and climbed out of the tub, toweling off the goosebumps.

Sleep came quickly after that.

When I woke again, the smell of garlic and spices hit me like a warm hug. Freya was cooking.

"I'm starving," I said, yawning as I joined her in the kitchen.

We ate in comfortable silence until she finally leaned in, eyes gleaming.

"So..."

I laughed. "I knew this was coming."

She raised a brow. "Don't play with me. Was it good?"

I looked away, biting back a smile. "Amazing. Better than anything I ever had with Charlie."

"Damn. That good?" she grinned. "So? Did you get his name? Number?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Just memories and a sore body."

She snorted. "Girl. I hope he shows up at the club tonight. You need that kind of energy in your life."

I smiled but said nothing. Deep down, I hoped too.

But that night... he didn't show.

I searched the room, scanned every VIP corner, but he was nowhere to be found. My heart dipped with disappointment, but I pushed it aside and focused on work.

Six Months Later

I stood outside the funeral hall, numb.

Mom was gone.

Just like the doctors said. Six months.

Six months of sleepless nights, whispered prayers, and stolen hope. And now... silence.

I couldn't stop crying. My throat burned from holding in sobs, and my hands trembled as I gripped the funeral program.

Freya stood beside me, her hand quietly holding mine.

I was alone now. Truly. Dad didn't even bother to show up. I hated him. I hated what he did to us. But most of all, I hated how empty I felt.

We were getting ready to leave when I saw him.

A tall figure, dressed in black, walking away from the crowd.

I froze.

That back... I knew it.

He turned briefly and our eyes met.

My breath caught.

It was him.

The man from the club. The man I'd slept with. The man I'd dreamed about.

He looked at me, expression unreadable.

And then... he turned and walked away.

Like we'd never met.

Like I didn't matter.

I stood there, heart breaking all over again, wondering why something that meant so little to him meant so much to me.

Jaxon Voxx

The morning after still clung to me like cigarette smoke and sin.

I leaned against the cold marble counter of my penthouse kitchen, bare-chested, wearing nothing but black slacks. My coffee had gone cold in my hand. I hadn't taken a sip.

I could still smell her.

Astrid.

The ghost of her laugh, the taste of her skin, the way her nails clawed at my shoulders like she never wanted to let go. Her moans still echoed in my skull like a cursed melody.

She was supposed to be a one-time thing. Quick. Forgettable. But her eyes had haunted me more than I cared to admit. Eyes that looked at me like I was a man, not a monster.

And then I left a damn hundred-dollar bill on the nightstand like a bastard.

I didn't even ask her name.

"Fucking coward," I muttered, tossing the cup into the sink hard enough to crack it.

But I didn't get far that morning. I'd barely made it into the house when I found them waiting.

Grandfather. And Rafael.

The old man sat on my leather armchair like a king on a throne, cane resting against his leg, eyes cold and sharp. Rafael stood nearby with a smug look painted on his face, wearing a perfectly tailored suit and a smirk that made me want to break his jaw-again.

I knew why they were here.

"Don't speak," Grandfather barked before I could open my mouth. "I heard what you did."

I stayed silent, jaw tight. My shirt was still half unbuttoned, hair messy, the scent of Astrid all over me.

"You raised your hand against your cousin," Grandfather continued, voice low but firm. "Don't you ever forget who you are and who he is. You're family. You don't touch each other like enemies."

"He pushed me," I growled. "Disrespected me in my own house."

"He's still blood," the old man snapped, slamming his cane against the floor. "If you do that again, Jaxon, I swear-"

"I get it," I cut in, eyes cold. "It won't happen again."

I glanced at Rafael, who wore the same smug look he always did when he thought he'd won.

But I didn't forget.

Rafael had always hated me. Wanted the throne. Wanted Grandfather's approval. But no matter how hard he worked, he couldn't shake the fact that I was the heir. I had the instincts. The cruelty. The beast in my veins that made men follow without question.

He was the polished prince.

I was the wolf.

Six Months Later

The penthouse felt different. Colder. Darker. Or maybe I just stopped pretending things were fine.

I lit a cigar and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke twist in the air.

Grandfather sat in front of me again-older, wearier, but no less terrifying. Rafael stood near the window this time, arms crossed, eyes filled with something venomous.

"There's a problem," Grandfather said.

"Of course there is," I muttered, sinking into the couch.

"Someone's targeting our ports in Spain and disrupting shipments in Naples. Whoever it is, they know how we operate. Our men are getting paid off. Information is leaking."

Rafael chimed in, voice sharp. "It's internal. Has to be."

"And you'd know?" I shot back.

"Enough," Grandfather warned. "Jaxon, I want you to find out who it is. Fast. Quiet."

"I will."

"And Jaxon-" he paused, tapping his cane. "This is not just about business anymore. We're under scrutiny. Media attention. Investors watching our every move. I can't have you running around like a rogue."

I rolled my eyes. "What are you getting at?"

"You need a wife."

The silence was immediate.

"What?"

"Stability," he said flatly. "A woman beside you changes the story. Makes you seem human. Trustworthy."

Rafael chuckled behind his glass. "Good luck finding anyone desperate enough."

I ignored him. My mind had already begun to turn.

Astrid.

I remembered her face again-raw, vulnerable, like life had beaten her down too many times. But she hadn't broken.

I knew her type. Too proud to ask for help. Too strong to show weakness. But struggling. Barely holding it together.

And six months ago, I left her with nothing but a hundred-dollar bill and my scent between her thighs.

She was never supposed to matter.

But now?

Now she was exactly what I needed.

"I'll take care of it," I said coolly, already reaching for my phone.

Later That Night – Outside the Club

I watched her from the shadows, leaning against the counter. The club's neon lights spilled across the pavement. She moved with grace and weariness, dressed in a black corset top and jeans, tray in hand, smile fake but trained.

Still beautiful.

Still burning.

I sat in front of her

She froze.

Her eyes widened like she'd seen a ghost.

I gave her a slow, cold smile.

"Miss me?"

"Are you-what the hell-"

"I know about your situation," I cut in, voice like ice wrapped in velvet. "Your mom. The hospital bills. The two jobs. The eviction notice."

Her throat tightened. "Did you stalk me?"

"I investigated you."

"Why?"

I stepped closer. "Because I have a proposal."

She stiffened.

"I need a wife," I said flatly. "For appearance. For legacy. Just until my grandfather dies."

She looked like she couldn't breathe.

"And you..." I leaned in, lowering my voice to a whisper. "You need money."

She didn't speak. Just stared.

"Fifty million dollars," I added, and watched her eyes go wide. "Signed. Sealed. Yours. All you have to do... is play my wife."

I paused.

"And never fall in love with me."