Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 32

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

**Chapter 32: Paper Shields**

Aurora’s POV

As I sit in the softly dimmed light of the room, time seems to dissolve around me, slipping away like grains of sand through my fingers. Minutes could have turned into hours, and yet, here I am, lost in an ocean of my own thoughts, adrift and untethered.

The sun, a golden sphere of warmth, spills its light across the wooden floorboards, its rays stretching and reaching out as if attempting to hold on to every fleeting moment of the day. I find myself flipping through the pages of a well-worn book resting on my lap, yet the words remain elusive, dancing just out of reach of my understanding. My eyes wander over the text, but it blurs into an indistinct haze, a reflection of the chaotic state of my mind.

What I yearn for is the embrace of something steadfast, something that would not judge me or demand anything in return. This book, with its frayed edges and faded pages, promises that kind of solace, a sanctuary from the storm raging within.

But my body betrays me. My hands tremble with a relentless anxiety that I cannot shake off, while my stomach growls in protest, reminding me of my neglect. My heart pounds in my chest, racing as if anticipating the echo of footsteps that might invade my fragile sanctuary at any moment.

Matteo’s words haunt me, a relentless specter echoing in the corridors of my mind.

“Useless.”

“Broken.”

It’s a pain that should not pierce me so deeply. By now, I should be accustomed to it, shouldn’t I?

Yet there exists a stark contrast between the pain one braces for and the kind that sneaks up uninvited, exploiting fresh wounds with a cruel precision.

My finger glides along the spine of the book, tracing the faded letters that once held promise and adventure. It could be a tale of gallant knights or perhaps of lurking monsters in the shadows—I can’t quite recall. Lately, all the stories have fused together into a chaotic jumble in my mind—heroes rescuing the undeserving, villains masquerading as saviors, and I am lost in the in-between.

A breath escapes my lips, fogging the cool glass beside me. The window has turned cold, the sun’s warmth receding, replaced by a dull, oppressive gray as twilight descends upon the world outside.

I pull my knees closer to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as if to form an impenetrable shield against the encroaching darkness.

I should make my way back upstairs. I should force myself to eat something, to cleanse my body with a shower, to surrender to the comforting embrace of sleep.

But my limbs feel heavy, as if they are anchored to this spot, rooted in fear.

What if I encounter Matteo again? Or Luka? Or even Nico? What if Leon isn’t around to shield me from their judgment?

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