Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Blood Doesn’t Mean Family**

**Aurora’s POV**

I remain frozen in place.

Not a single muscle twitches.

Not even a breath escapes my lips.

If I can just hold this pose, perhaps I’ll vanish entirely from their sight.

Andrei shatters the suffocating silence, his tone as frigid as the tiles beneath my trembling feet.

“Introduce yourselves.”

No one seems eager to comply. It feels akin to asking a pack of wolves to kindly greet a defenseless sheep. I let out a silent sigh, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

The first to break the tension, predictably, is Macy.

“Jace,” he states curtly, his voice dripping with disdain. Then, with a sneer, he adds, “Can we just drop her back at the airport? Or better yet, toss her in the trash?”

I offer him a nervous nod, my heart racing. Nothing more. The fear of my voice cracking keeps me silent.

Next in line is Splinty. He still refuses to meet my gaze, his attention glued to his phone as if it holds the secrets of the universe, more captivating than the person standing just three feet away.

“Luka,” he mutters, almost dismissively.

Of course, your name’s Luka. Somehow, that feels even worse than being called Splinty. I groan internally, wishing to sink into the floor.

Then, with a smirk that twists my stomach, he adds, “Did we order a stray or something? I thought Andrei said this was family.”

My heart sinks as I stiffen, staring down at my shuffling feet, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill at his words. His counterpart, Leon, lifts his chin slightly, his expression unreadable yet heavy with judgment.

“Leon,” he states simply.

He doesn’t need to elaborate; the way he scrutinizes me feels as harsh as a pile of garbage.

“Better pack your bags now,” Nico adds under his breath, not even pausing to see if I heard him. “Or don’t. Less to carry when you’re kicked out.”

Luka snickers, his laughter echoing like a cruel punchline to a joke I’m not even privy to. Leon’s gaze lingers on me a moment longer before he turns away, his expression unreadable.

In a flash, Luka bounds up the stairs, sprinting past the others, and slams the door to his room shut behind him.

Only Raphael remains.

His hand rests on my shoulder, a mix of gentleness and firmness that offers the slightest semblance of comfort in this storm of hostility.

He squeezes once, a silent promise of support in a sea of indifference.

He looks over my head, then turns to Leon. “Please show Aurora to her room.”

Leon doesn’t respond verbally; instead, he glares at me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl before pivoting on his heel.

Clutching my belongings tightly against my chest, I nervously follow him, feeling the weight of his disdain heavy on my back.

Because in this moment, I have no choice but to comply.