Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 56

**Chapter 56: Not So Cold**

**Aurora’s POV**

As we glide into the driveway, the sky transforms into a soft, golden hue, as if it’s gently dissolving into the embrace of the horizon. I sit in the passenger seat, a quiet presence, my fingers delicately wrapped around the handles of one of the bags we brought back. Jace, ever the gentleman, had insisted on carrying everything himself, declaring that I had earned “Princess privileges” for managing to stay conscious in the shoe aisle of the store.

“Ugh, next time you’re lugging your own glitter pens, Princess,” he groans, as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders while he extricates himself from the car.

I can’t help but mumble, “I only got two…” My voice is barely a whisper, but it feels like a small protest against the absurdity of it all.

“Yeah, well, they weigh more when they’re covered in emotional damage,” he grumbles, slamming the trunk shut with a bit more force than necessary.

A small, quiet laugh escapes my lips, a fleeting moment of joy amidst the chaos. I follow him slowly up the walkway, each step deliberate, as I savor the warmth of the fading sunlight on my skin. The front door swings open with an air of excitement as Jace, arms straining under the weight of the bags, stumbles into the house with all the flair of a warrior charging into battle.

“MAKE WAY!” he bellows, his voice booming through the air, but just as he steps inside, disaster strikes.

“SON OF A-!” he yells, his voice cutting off as he trips over nothingness. A notebook, dislodged from one of the bags, flies through the air and smacks Leon right in the face. Time seems to halt for a brief moment as Jace freezes, wide-eyed, before he lets out a dramatic sigh and collapses face-first onto the couch, resembling a bear that has just been tranquilized.

Leon, who had been sitting on the couch with a mug in his hand, raises an eyebrow at the commotion, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. Jace groans into the cushion, his voice muffled. “I am not stable enough for this kind of labor.”

Leon takes a slow sip of his juice, utterly unfazed, as if this is just another day in the life. “You tripped over air,” he deadpans.

“I tripped over responsibility,” Jace mumbles, still buried in the pillow, his voice barely audible. Leon shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

“How the hell are you older than me?” he asks, incredulous.

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