Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 140

When Metal Screams

Aurora’s POV

For a heartbeat, I can’t breathe.

I’m free.

I don’t even move at first. I just stare down at my wrists, at the swollen red bands of skin, at the way my hands hang wrong bent, slick with blood. The air feels heavier now, pressing against my

―

chest. My pulse is everywhere: in my throat, behind my eyes, throbbing under the torn skin of my

wrists.

“I…”

My voice breaks before I can finish.

“Estrella.

“Damion’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. He sounds different – not angry, not even scared. Just… wrecked. “Your hands-”

“I’m fine,” I whisper, even though it’s not true, even though I can taste blood in the back of my

throat. “I’m fine, Damion.

“He drags himself closer, his chain scraping across the floor with a horrible sound. “You’re not fine! You’re- you’re bleeding so much-”

“I don’t care.

11

My voice is thin, high, shaking. “We have to get you out.

“Damion stares at his chains, old yet still strong, then looks at the door. His eyes go wide. Someone’s still out there. A shadow moves across the gap at the bottom. Their steps echo up and down the hallway.Left.Right.Left.Right.He turns to me, panic flashing across his face. “Estrella,” he whispers hoarsely, “go. Go now. Get out before-“blink at him, my vision swimming. “What?”

“Go!” His voice cracks. “Run, before they-” He gestures at the door, at the noise beyond it. “They won’t catch you if you climb out that little window gap. You can still get away-“I shake my head, hair sticking to my wet cheeks. “No. I- I can’t.

“You have to,” he says, desperation spilling into his voice. “Look at us. You- you’re hurt. I’m still chained. You can slip past them. You can make it back to

“I

–

“No!” It comes out choked, not loud, but enough to make him stop. Tears blur my vision again,

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stinging. I look at the door, at the shadow moving, just beyond It, then back at him. “I’m not leaving

you.

“Damion stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Aura-”

“I’m not,” I whisper again, voice breaking. “I’m no leaving you. You helped me. You you helped.

I’m not…‘

My throat closes up. “I’m not walking out without you.

“His jaw works, but no sound comes out. His eyes are shiny in the dim light, his face pale and tight. For a second I think he’s going to yell at me, or tell me I’m stupid, but he doesn’t. He just looks at

1. me.

And I can see it in his eyes.

Even though he wants me to run, to save myself… there’s still a part of him that wants to run with

1. me.

The footsteps stop abruptly, freezing me and Damion.

Then they start again. Pacing the same route.Left.Right.

“I’m not leaving you,” I whisper one more time, like a promise. My voice is small but it holds.

For a long, shaky second, neither of us moves. The Damion swallows, a tremor in his throat. “Okay,” he whispers back. His hands curl into fists. Okay.”

I bring the knife to his chain. The link is thick, solid old metal but still too strong. I push the blade against it and try to saw. Sparks jump. The edge skids. My wrists shake from the effort; my broken

bones grind when I move.

It doesn’t cut.

“Come on,” I whisper, voice breaking. “Please-“amion watches, eyes darting from me to the door. “It’s no use,” he says finally, his voice hoarse “It’s too strong. You’re going to hurt yourself

more-”

“No,” I breathe. “No, it’s weak. It has to-“Then I hear it.Left.Right.Left.Right.Outside, voices. Low, rough, fast. I can’t understand the words, but he sound of them makes my blood run cold.

Russian.

The sound of boots on stone, keys rattling.

I clamp my broken wrists around the knife and look at Damion. His face is pale, his green eyes wide

and terrified.

“We need to try,” I mouth.He shakes his head, barely a whisper. “No…”

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The voices get louder. They’re right outside. I can feel it.

I press the knife harder against the chain, but my hands are shaking too much, my wrists

screaming with shaking, the blade sliding off the link and cutting my palm. Blood drips down, dark

and sticky.

For a heartbeat, I can’t breathe.

I’m free.

I don’t even move at first. I just stare down at my wrists, at the swollen red bands of skin, at the way my hands hang wrong bent, slick with blood. The air feels heavier now, pressing against my

wrists.

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