Claimed By The Mafia Rogue King (Snow and Cupid) novel Chapter 287

Chapter 287

Snowflakes

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Numbly, I drove out of H.O.W.L. without really seeing the road, lights blurring into streaks, horns distant, everything muffled like! was underwater.

When I passed Cupid’s waiting car, I slowed to a stop and leaned my forehead against the steering wheel, chest tight, waiting.

It didn’t take long.

His door opened. He left his car for Desmond without a word, crossed the few paces between us, and slid into the passenger seat beside me.

The moment he saw my face, really saw it, his expression softened into something raw and protective.

Without asking, he reached over, unbuckled my seatbelt, and gently pulled me across the console into the passenger seat.

I let him. I didn’t have the strength to argue. He took the wheel, adjusted the seat back, and pulled away smoothly, leaving his car behind for Desmond to handle.

The ride home was silence, thick, heavy silence laced with tension we couldn’t name. We had one of the culprits now. Ossy J. A name. A face. A living, breathing piece of the nightmare. And yet it felt like nothing. A dead end dressed up as progress. The year was racing toward its close; Aunt Bloom’s warning rang louder with every passing mile.

You must complete the true rituals and reclaim your wolf before the year ends. If you do not… you will collapse. And you will die.

I closed my eyes, searching for peace.

Instead the vision flashed hot, vivid, merciless.

My werewolf, black–and–white fur shimmering like moonlight on obsidian, bound in silver chains that glowed with cruel runes. Floating. Helpless. Eyes dull with centuries of waiting.

The doctor’s old prognosis overlapped with Aunt Bloom’s. Coma… death… the same end wearing different words.

I sighed shakily, opened my eyes, and stared at the dashboard lights until they blurred.

Cupid’s hand found my thigh warmly, steady, grounding. He didn’t speak. He just rested his palm there, thumb moving in slow, soothing arcs until the knot in my chest loosened just enough to breathe.

I turned my head.

He drove with one hand on the wheel. Lazy, confident, focused on the dark road ahead. The streetlights slid across his face in soft gold flashes.

Sharp jaw, steady green eyes. He was everything I could have prayed for. And he loved me.

He never said it often in words.

But he showed it.

Every quiet morning he made breakfast when I forgot to eat. Every time he carried me to bed when exhaustion won. Every time he

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11:33 pm PPW

Chapter 287

looked at me like I was the only thing tethering him to the world.

If I died soon…

The thought sliced clean through me.

Cupid would grieve terribly, beautifully but eventually he would heal. He was young. Vital.

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A celebrity with a face that launched a thousand magazine covers and a name that opened every door. Women would circle the moment the news broke that he was available. They would tear at him.

Jealousy and grief twisted together in my chest until I couldn’t look away from him.

The car rolled to a gentle stop.

We were home.

He killed the engine. For a second neither of us moved.

Then he was out, circling to my door, opening it, guiding me with that same tender palm at the small of my back steady, careful, like I might break.

The door clicked shut behind us.

The house smelled like him. Warm cedar, faint coffee.

Everything was tidy, cozy, in perfect order. For the first time I realized how much I loved him staying here. How much I loved coming home to lights already on, to him already here.

“You should go take your bath,” he said softly, brushing a kiss across my cheek. “I’ll make dinner.”

I watched him walk toward the kitchen. Broad shoulders, easy grace and heard the faucet turn on, the soft clink of pans.

But instead of heading to the bedroom, my feet carried me after him.

He stood at the sink, sleeves rolled to his elbows, washing his hands with that same methodical care he used on everything. Soap suds slid down his forearms.

My heart squeezed so hard it hurt.

Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out quietly and raw.

“Don’t get married if I die, Cupid.”

He froze.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he turned.

Those green eyes locked on mine. Steady. Burning. Thrilling and devastating all at once.

I kept going, voice trembling.

“I’ll haunt you if you do.”

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11:33 pm

Chapter 287

Silence stretched. Only the drip of the faucet, the low hum of the refrigerator.

Then he shrugged. One small, almost helpless movement like he was trying to make the impossible feel simple.

“You’ll be fine.” His voice was low, rough. “We have a solution. Your dad.”

He turned back to the sink.

I spoke again, helpless, honest.

“My dad doesn’t love me. He won’t accept me. And that’s the truth.”

Cupid went still.

He understood exactly what I meant.

I might not survive the year.

I might not even survive next week.

He didn’t answer right away.

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His hand tightened on the faucet handle, too hard. Metal groaned. The handle snapped off in his grip with a sharp crack.

“Fuck,” he muttered, low and furious.

He walked away from the sink, three strides to the window, braced both hands on the sill and stared into the night like it had personally betrayed him.

Tension crackled between us sharp, electric, unbearable.

Maybe this was it.

A taste of good then it all slips away.

Maybe I was never meant to keep happiness. Maybe our love couldn’t survive this trial.

I lowered my gaze and turned to leave.

“I’m not letting you go.”

His voice soft, certain stopped me cold.

I turned.

He stood just behind me now, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him.

Tenderly, achingly he lifted both hands to my face, cradling my cheeks like I was made of glass.

“I love you, Snow,” he said, voice low and rough with everything he couldn’t say fast enough. “And I won’t give up on you. Never.”

“Cupid…”

“It’s a hard time,” he murmured, thumbs brushing the tears I hadn’t realized were falling. “A hard time that will pass. And after 3/4