Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 148

Hands Between Us

Nico’s POV

The courtyard is still soaked in rain, the sky cracked open and bleeding silver. Aurora’s still

clutching my jacket, breath uneven, but my eyes catch movement near the archway.

A figure.

A boy–fourteen, maybe fifteen. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, soaked shoes sloshing

through puddles. He doesn’t look afraid. Doesn’t even hesitate.He stands beside Aurora like he

belongs there.My instincts flare.

The gun in my hand comes up automatically, locking onto his chest. “Who the hell are you?“The boy lifts a brow, eyes flicking lazily to the gun, then back at me. He looks too calm for someone who’s got a barrel pointed at him. He doesn’t answer. Just studies me with lazy, unreadable eyes,

like I’m the one intruding.

“Fucking answer me,” I snap, stepping forward.

Before I can blink, Aurora spins, putting herself right between us. Her small hand shoves the gun

down, shaking.

“Nico, no!” she snaps, voice rising – not scared, but angry. Angry at me.Her glare cuts straight through the rain. “Don’t hurt him!“I blink, caught between confusion and disbelief. “What?”

“He’s with me!” she yells, her tone cracking halfway between rage and pleading. “He helped me!

You can’t “My jaw tightens. “Aurora, move.

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“No!” she yells, glaring up at me, rain streaking down her cheeks. Her hand shoots out and locks

into his.

Fuck no.

The sight trips something hard and ugly inside me. The kid’s eyes drop to their joined hands. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk, looking their intertwined hands.

Every instinct I have is screaming to break his wrist in half.

The way he holds her hand.

The way he looks at her.

The way he’s still fucking breathing. He looks right at me, his eyes flashing with recognition.

Chapter 148

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“Russo…”

he murmurs, looking at my gun.

Aurora turns to him, confused. “Damion-“The name hits me like a punch.

Hector,

Cigarette smoke and expensive cologne hang thick in the air.He sits across the room — head of the Spanish mafia, surrounded by his men. Beside him, half–hidden by the chair, a smaller figure in a crisp white shirt and dark vest. The kid can’t be older than fourteen.He doesn’t fidget. Doesn’t look away.

Even then, his stare has weight.

“Your son?” Papá asks, gesturing towards the boy.Hector smiles, pride curling like smoke. “Sí. He

watches, learns. One day, he’ll command.

“My eyes catch the boy’s for a moment – bright green, sharp, unblinking. He tilts his head

slightly, like he’s memorizing me.

—

The memory blurs – rain bleeding through it until that boy’s face shifts, fading, reshaping into

the one standing in front of me now.

“Right, estrella?“Aurora blinks, caught off guard, color rising faintly in her cheeks. “Damion…

I’m just gonna burn this motherfucker. My jaw clenches. “You done?” I ask, voice flat enough to slice through concrete, still holding the gun towards him, my other hand resting in my pocket.

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