Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 31

**Stars Refuse To Blink by Asa River Knox**
**Chapter 31**

**Quiet Company**

**Aurora’s POV**

I slip quietly out of the kitchen, my movements deliberate and cautious, as if I’m trying to avoid waking a sleeping giant. The warm mug pressed against my chest feels like a fragile barrier, a comforting shield against the world outside. Although I’ve barely sipped its contents, the warmth radiating from it offers a small measure of solace. It’s familiar, my own little piece of comfort amidst the chaos.

As I step into the hallway, it stretches out before me—wide, unfamiliar, and daunting, like an endless maze that seems to mock my every attempt to navigate it. I turn a corner, then another, but the walls blur together in a monotonous haze that only deepens my sense of disorientation. This house feels like it’s conspiring against me, its vastness a tangled web designed to ensnare me in its labyrinthine embrace.

Pausing at the top of the staircase, I glance left and right, my heart racing in my chest like a trapped bird. I had thought I could find my way to the library, but today, everything seems altered, as if the very walls have shifted to taunt me.

I choose one hallway, then hesitate, second-guessing myself as self-doubt creeps in.

Desperate for direction, I try another path, but it leads me deeper into confusion.

“This place needs a GPS,” I mutter under my breath, gripping my mug tighter as frustration bubbles within me, threatening to spill over.

And then I hear them—footsteps. Slow, heavy, and approaching with an unsettling inevitability that sends a jolt of panic through me.

I freeze, my heart pounding as if trying to escape my chest. Matteo rounds the corner just as I contemplate slipping away, his presence looming like a dark cloud. His gaze locks onto mine, narrowing with an intensity that makes me feel like a deer caught in headlights, frozen and vulnerable.

“Well, well,” he drawls, a dry edge to his voice slicing through the air as he halts in his tracks. “Look who’s wandering around like a lost puppy.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, my grip on the mug tightening as I struggle to muster the courage to respond. “I was just… looking for the library,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

One eyebrow arches skeptically, skepticism dripping from his every word. “And what? You thought you’d find it by wandering in circles?”

“I didn’t mean to get lost,” I murmur, my voice shaking slightly, betraying my anxiety.

“Sempre la stessa storia,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair in exasperation, the gesture both familiar and infuriating. “Non fai altro che portare problemi ovunque vai.”

(“Always the same story. All you ever do is bring trouble wherever you go.”)

His tone sends a chill down my spine, and I instinctively lower my gaze, too intimidated to inquire about his words.

“I just wanted to read,” I manage to say, hoping to steer the conversation away from the tension that hangs thick between us.

He scoffs, the sound dripping with disdain, and it cuts deeper than I’d like to admit. “What, fairy tales? Stories where the sad little orphan girl gets rescued by her big strong brothers who suddenly decide they give a damn?”

Silence envelops us like a heavy fog as I clench my mug tighter, feeling the heat radiate against my palms, a stark contrast to the ice in his tone.

“Dio santo,” he snaps, studying me as if I’m a mere insect under his scrutiny, ready to be crushed. “Come fai a essere così inutile?”

(“Dear God. How are you this useless?”)

I flinch at his biting words, the sting of them cutting deep into my already fragile self-esteem. Whatever he said, it certainly wasn’t kind.

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