Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 13

**TITLE: The Unplaceable End by Austen 13**
**Chapter 13**

**Unwanted Weight**

**Aurora’s POV**

As night descends upon the mansion, it envelops the vast halls with a suffocating weight, a palpable presence that seems to whisper warnings in the silence. I remain anchored to the couch in the den, a solitary figure wrapped in a blanket that clings to me like a protective second skin, the fabric bunched tightly in my fists. It’s the only barrier between me and the chilling air that has seeped deep into my bones, a relentless reminder of the coldness that resides not just outside, but within.

Raphael has been a steady presence throughout the morning, his silence a comforting balm in a house that feels like it’s constructed from sharp edges and hidden dangers. His quiet demeanor stands out, a flicker of calm amidst the storm of anxiety that brews within me.

Now, I watch him as he approaches the door, the familiar sound of fabric rustling as he slips on his coat, the motion both routine and significant.

“I have to head out for a while. A bit long,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and measured, as if he’s afraid that louder words might shatter the fragile peace that lingers between us. “Nothing serious. I’ll be back before you know it.”

I give a small nod, clutching the blanket tighter around my shoulders, seeking its warmth as if it can shield me from the uncertainty that looms. He pauses, his gaze piercing through me, those eyes of his always seeming to delve deeper, uncovering truths I’d rather keep buried.

“You’ll be okay?”

Another nod escapes my lips, though this one feels smaller, less certain. He hesitates, a moment stretching between us like a taut string, before he steps forward and places a steady hand on my shoulder. The contact sends a jolt through me, grounding yet electric.

“If anything happens, call me,” he insists, his tone firm but laced with concern. “Doesn’t matter what time it is.”

I nod again, this time with more conviction, and he offers me one last lingering look before he vanishes through the door. As it clicks shut behind him, I feel the warmth drain from the room, leaving an echo of emptiness in his absence. Slowly, I rise, dragging the blanket along as if it were armor against the world outside. I hesitate at the thought of going upstairs, not wanting to pass by their rooms, not wanting to feel their stares bore into me like daggers.

So, I walk.

I tread down the unfamiliar hallways, past closed doors that guard secrets and cold portraits that seem to watch my every move. The air feels thick with unspoken words and hidden tensions until I round a corner and collide headlong into someone, the impact jarring me.

My breath catches in my throat.

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