Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 145

Chapter 145

ARIELLA.

What the fuck was going on here?

No, seriously. What the hell was going on?

I sat frozen in that damn chair, watching this game of power unfold like I was some helpless spectator in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from Asher was angry…no, beyond angry. His fury was visible in the way his fists curled at his sides, in the way his jaw clenched, in the dark stillness of his body like a predator just before it strikes.

And Alex? Alex was enjoying it.

He was soaking in Asher’s rage like it was a warm bath, smirking, calm, arrogant, knowing exactly what he was doing and loving every second of it.

But I wasn’t enjoying any of it. Because sitting here, surrounded by men with guns and pride and unchecked egos, I knew one thing for sure: my life was in danger.

If a shootout happened, I wasn’t making it out of here. I wasn’t a fighter. I didn’t have a gun hidden under the table or strapped to my thigh. I didn’t know how to aim, let alone shoot. I was just… me.

And looking around the room, I could count. Asher had four men. Alex had six.

He was outnumbered. And me? I didn’t even count. I was a liability. A potential hostage. A pawn.

But worse than all that? I saw something shift in Asher’s eyes. Something calculating. Something sharp and quiet and dangerous.

Was he… thinking about it?

Was he actually considering what Alex said?

My stomach twisted, bile crawling up my throat.

What the hell did “share” mean? Would they… take turns? Treat me like a toy they passed back and forth? Did he expect me to just sit here and accept that?

I didn’t understand it, but I knew deep down it wasn’t good.

I wanted to scream, to beg Asher to say something, to make this stop, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to stay still. Had to stay strong. Had to stay alive,

The room was steeped in silence. The kind of silence that lives right before blood is spilt. Everyone could feel it, like thunderclouds pressing against the walls.

Even the guards were tense, eyes twitching to their bosses, waiting for the moment someone made a move.

And

my mind… it went to Leon.

What if something happened to me?

What if Asher died here too? What would become of Leon?

Who would take care of him? What would happen to my little boy?

Asher’s voice sliced through the silence like a knife. “I’ll ask again,” he said, low and deadly. ” What the fuck do you want? And you better be specific. I’d hate to start shooting because I got the wrong idea about you.”

Alex smiled.

Smiled. Like he wasn’t sitting in the centre of a ticking bomb.

He leaned back in the chair, casual as ever, legs crossed like he was in a café, not the centre of a warzone.

But I saw it, the crack in his performance. He knew the danger. He was pretending, but he could feel it.

“Like I said,” he drawled, eyes locked on Asher, “I like her. I enjoy her company. She’s beautiful. Smart. Loyal. And let’s not forget… Italian Mafia blood. She’s not just a mistress, locked away in some house like a secret shame. She’s more than that.”

He turned toward me then…. really looked at me.

“She deserves more. To be shown to the world. To stand beside a king… or in his case a prince, like me.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify