Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 137

No One’s Prey

Aurora’s POV

My back is pressed to the damp stone wall, knees pulled up against my chest, chains clinking with

small movement. The air in the cell smells like rust and damp cloth. My wrists ache from the metal cuffs digging into them, skin raw. I stare at the ground, but my head feels heavier than it ever

every

has.

I can’t stop thinking.

Everything spins in my mind like a cruel film reel that refuses to stop.My mother’s voice.

My brothers‘ faces.

Tiffany’s laughter when she betrayed me.

The kids at school turning their faces away from me like I didn’t exist.

Every memory has the same taste: I’m small. Weak Silent. Always taking it. Always swallowing the pain down because it’s all I knew how to do.

I clench my hands into fists. My nails bite into my palms.

“Why?” I whisper to myself, voice cracking. “Why can’t I just… fight?“My throat burns.

Tears blur my vision, and I let my head fall back against the stone.

And then–I see Jace.

It’s so clear I can almost feel it.

The living room, both of us lying flat on the rug, gasping for air because we’ve been laughing so

hard.

“Okay, okay-” Jace grins, clutching his stomach. I told him to go fuck a toaster, not give me

detention!”

“Jace, that’s not even-“I laugh so hard my sides hurt.

“Meh.

“He grins like an idiot, proud of himself, before dissolving into more laughter,

I can hear it. I can feel my chest ache with it.

The sound fades, replaced by another memory. Andrei, sitting across from me at the dining table. My math homework is spread out between us, messy scribbles everywhere.

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“Why does math hate me?” I sigh, glaring at the paper.

He actually laughs. He takes the pencil, and explains the problem with an ease that suras mecent to both throw the paper and hug him.

It shifts again. Raphael, carrying a steaming mug He sets it in front of me without a word “Tea,” he says simply. He sits across from me, arms folded his quiet eyes meeting mine.

“Thanks,” I whisper, fingers wrapping around the cup.

“So, how was school?” he asks softly.

I smile.

“Good.

“His voice is calm, warm, steady. It makes me feel safe in a way I can’t describe Leon’s laugh bursts through next, pulling me along the mall, his hand tight around my wrist

“Come on, come on, you’re so slow!” he groans, grinning as he points to a shop window. “Look- look at that, Luka would love that scarf! It’s hideous like him.

“But you’re twins?” I say, confused. “Exactly. But In the handsome one. He’s the donkey.

“Then Luka. I’m peeking from the kitchen doorway while Raphael scolds him for giving me too much candy all the time.

.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?! Children shouldn’t have sugar at 1 am on a Sunday!“Luka just winks at me as I stifle a laugh, my cheeks burning

Another flash -Matteo and me at his desk. He’s clicking furiously at his keyboard, and I’m perched on the arm of his chair, mouse in hand.

“No, no, no–how are you winning?” he shouts, but he’s grinning, laughing so hard his shoulders

shake.

I giggle as he curses at somebody for crashing into him.

“Noo!” he groans, and we both laugh louder. Andrei’s voice booms down the hall: “SHUT UP!” We slap hands over our mouths, giggling even harder.Nico’s voice comes last, grumbling as 1 fumble through his textbook.

“And just like that, the memories vanish. The laughter, the warmth, the light away, leaving me in this dark, rotting cell.My breat hitches. Tears sting my eyes.

–

For a heartbeat, it feels alive, whispering to me like an old friend calling my name.

Daring me to stop being prey.

I shift, chains scraping against the floor. My wrists scream with pain as I pull against the cuffs, stretching as far as I can. My fingers brush the cold metal of the blade – but it’s just out of reach.

“Come on…”

I grit my teeth. “Come on.

“The voice hisses again: You’ll never do it. You’ll never-“Shut up!” I choke. “Shut up! I’m not weak!“My breath hitches. Tears sting my eyes.

“I can’t lose that,” I grit. “I can’t lose them. Not when I finally a family. My family.

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–

“The cuffs slice against raw flesh, but I don’t stop. stretch, reach, pull every tug another face, another reason. “My fingers graze the handle. “The pain sears up my arm.R““The chain cuts deeper.“I bite back a sob.“I strain harder.““I can almost close my hand.N’With one last cry, I grab

the knife.

I grip it tight, yanking it back toward me. The motion jerks me off–balance and I crash against the wall, breath knocked out of me.

For a second, I just sit there, clutching it, my heart pounding like a drum.

I lift the blade. The reflection staring back at me isn’t the girl who always took the pain. My hair is a

tangled mess, my face streaked with dirt and tears, but my eyes –

my eyes look different. Alive.

“I’m going back,” I whisper to the reflection. My grip tightens on the knife until my knuckles go

white.

“I’m going back to my brothers. And nobody’s taking me from them again. Not now. Not ever.

“The knife isn’t just cold metal in my hand – it’s a mirror of who I want to become.

I don’t want to be weak.Why? Because I’m not prey.