Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Bruised Glass**

**Aurora’s POV**

As I step away from the warmth of the kitchen, a chill wraps around me in the hallway, seeping into my bones.

I trail behind Raphael in silence, my arms tightly wrapped around myself, a meager shield against the cold. The bandages on my hands throb with a dull ache, a constant reminder of the chaos that unfolded earlier. It all happened so fast—I barely registered him grabbing the first aid kit; one moment I was lost in my thoughts, and the next, there it was, in his hands. He moves with such purpose, so quietly and with a kindness that feels like a breath of fresh air, a stark contrast to the harshness of everyone else.

We don’t venture far. He pushes open a door just off the main hallway, revealing a small, dimly lit room.

“Sit,” he instructs, gesturing toward a worn but inviting couch.

I comply, sinking into the cushions that seem to cradle me, offering a momentary reprieve from the weight of everything. Raphael kneels before me, his focus on the bandages, his brow knitted in concentration. It’s not anger that clouds his features; it’s something deeper—concern, perhaps, or a sense of protectiveness that makes my heart flutter uncomfortably.

“I’ll talk to them,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as if the thought has just struck him.

“You don’t have to,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, small and fragile.

“I do. You don’t deserve that,” he insists, his tone firm but gentle, as if he’s trying to shield me from the harsh realities of the world.

I find my gaze drawn to the floor, where an expensive rug lies beneath my feet. Its fibers are thick and plush, and I can feel the way it doesn’t shift when I dig my toes into it, a stark reminder of the opulence surrounding us, contrasting sharply with the turmoil in my heart.

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