Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 46

**TITLE: Stars Refuse To Blink by Asa River Knox**
**Chapter 46**

**Breathe**

**Aurora’s POV**

It appears I must have slipped into a light slumber, the kind that steals away precious moments without my permission. After what felt like an eternity spent nestled in the comforting chaos of Leon’s room, I found myself once again surrendering to the pull of sleep on the couch, cocooned in a thick blanket of exhaustion that wrapped around me like a shroud.

When I finally blink my eyes open, the world around me is painted in softer hues, the sun hanging low in the sky, its golden rays stretching out like fingers trying to grasp the horizon. Shadows waltz across the floor, their delicate movements a stark contrast to the heaviness in my heart. A dull ache radiates from my neck—a painful reminder of the awkward position I had chosen for my rest. My fingers feel like ice, a familiar chill creeping back in, wrapping around me like an unwelcome embrace.

With a conscious effort, I sit up, my hands instinctively moving to rub the remnants of sleep from my eyes. A sinking realization washes over me like a cold wave: no one has come to check on me. No one has noticed my absence, not even for a fleeting moment.

Except for Leon, perhaps. He might have sensed my departure, likely assuming I needed a moment to gather my thoughts, to breathe deeply and reclaim my scattered self.

And indeed, I did need that space. A wave of gratitude washes over me for his understanding, for the way he seems to know when to give me room to breathe. My gaze drifts toward the doorway, an unspoken invitation beckoning me to venture upstairs. The thought of fetching a glass of water crosses my mind, or perhaps simply sitting in silence, allowing the world to fade away. The latter seems more appealing, though I can’t quite pinpoint why.

As I rise to my feet, each movement feels laborious, my arms wrapping protectively around my torso, as if to shield myself from the relentless tide of thoughts that threaten to engulf me. Each step toward the staircase feels heavy with the weight of my anxiety. Just as I reach the bottom, a figure emerges from the shadows—Luka.

My heart races, and I freeze, breath catching in my throat, a sudden rush of anxiety coursing through me like ice water. He sees me, and a smirk curls at the corners of his lips, that insufferable expression that seems to mock my very existence.

“Sleeping in the furniture now, cane?” he quips, his voice dripping with derision as he saunters past me with an air of superiority.

I choose silence, unwilling to grant him the satisfaction of a response. He pauses, perhaps anticipating a reaction, but I refuse to meet his gaze. Instead, I lower my eyes and sidestep him, my heart pounding as I make my way up the stairs.

His laughter follows me like a dark shadow, low and biting, a chill that seeps into my very bones. It feels as cold as the atmosphere of this house, a constant reminder of the isolation I grapple with. As I reach the top of the stairs, I nearly collide with Jace, and a sense of déjà vu washes over me—this is becoming a tiresome routine. He halts abruptly upon seeing me, his expression unreadable, though his eyes quickly flicker down to my wrist—wrapped in bandages that conceal too much of what lies beneath.

An instinctive urge drives me to tuck my wrist into the sleeve of my shirt, my posture hunching slightly as a wave of nervousness washes over me. We stand in silence, the air thick with unspoken words, a tension that feels almost palpable.

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