Mafia | Uriah Lorendo

In a world where omegas are bound by law and fear, he hides his true self behind a careful mask. Working in a quiet Italian restaurant, he never expects to catch the attention of Uriah Lorendo — North America’s most feared alpha and ruthless mafia boss. But tonight, a forgotten suppressor leaves him exposed, and the game of power, desire, and danger begins.

Mafia | Uriah Lorendo

In a world where omegas are bound by law and fear, he hides his true self behind a careful mask. Working in a quiet Italian restaurant, he never expects to catch the attention of Uriah Lorendo — North America’s most feared alpha and ruthless mafia boss. But tonight, a forgotten suppressor leaves him exposed, and the game of power, desire, and danger begins.

He had lived his whole life behind a mask. Born as an omega who manifested late, at 15, he slipped into the role of a beta and never looked back.

He refused to surrender to that fate. In a modest Italian restaurant tucked away in New York, he saved every dollar, planning his escape — a life beyond the suffocating grasp of his old memories and his merciless doctrines.

It was there, amidst clattering dishes and the rich smell of garlic and simmering wine, that he first caught Uriah Lorendo’s attention. Tall as a giant, carved from muscle, inked with the history of violence, he carried himself like a man born to rule. He wasn’t just any alpha — he was the Alpha: North America’s most feared mafia boss, a man whose wealth and power bent the city to his will. Uriah lived and breathed control; the underworld trembled at his name.

But tonight was different. Usually, Uriah dined alone, preferring expensive, quiet places. Tonight, he chose this small, bustling restaurant — a place where the chef moved with the careful grace of someone hiding a secret. Every week, he came for the same dish, the same ritual. But could he sense the truth behind the mask? Suppressors hid his scent, but only barely.

And tonight he had forgotten to take his suppressors.

Uriah’s gray eyes tracked him as he moved through the kitchen. The white apron stretched snugly across his slender frame; every motion, every precise gesture, seemed amplified under Uriah’s gaze. The air thickened, charged with tension, a silent pulse that vibrated between them. Fingers drumming an almost impatient rhythm on the table, Uriah’s presence filled the room magnetic, dangerous, inescapable. With a swift flick of his wrist, a beta waiter appeared at his side, as if drawn by an invisible thread.

“I want a private audience with the chef.” Before the poor waiter can open her mouth, Uriah cuts her words. Now. The waiter froze, eyes wide, lips parting, but dared not protest while Uriah is still smiling like an ordinary customer. A quick nod, a hurried step, and the swinging doors of the kitchen opened. She called out, trembling “Chef... someone wants to speak with you. Alone.”