Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Terms of Survival**

*Aurora’s POV*

The dinner concluded in the same manner it had commenced: steeped in an uncomfortable silence that hung in the air like a heavy fog.

As the last morsels of food were consumed, the others began to drift away, vanishing into the shadows of the house before the plates had even been cleared. The sound of chairs scraping against the polished floor echoed through the dining room, and the doors swung open and shut with a soft thud. Suddenly, I found myself alone at the table, the weight of solitude pressing down on me.

“Andrei,” Raphael’s voice broke through the silence, soft yet insistent. “Are you going to talk to her?”

“I’m not gonna bite,” Andrei muttered dismissively, pushing his chair back with a deliberate scrape. He turned to me, his expression unreadable. “Come on.”

With that, he strode down a dimly lit hallway, the echo of his footsteps reverberating against the cold marble floors. He didn’t bother to check if I was following; it was as if he assumed I would trail behind him without question.

He reached a heavy door and swung it open, revealing a space that resembled a study—no, an office, with shelves brimming with books that seemed to whisper secrets of their own. A dark wooden desk stood prominently in the center, accompanied by a solitary chair that faced it.

He gestured for me to take a seat, then closed the door with a soft click that felt final.

I sat down, feeling the coolness of the chair beneath me, my heart racing slightly in the stillness of the room.

Andrei leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made me feel like a specimen under a microscope. For a moment, he studied me as if I were an unfamiliar file he had been assigned to keep alive.

“I’m not going to give you a long lecture,” he began, his tone flat and serious. “But there are a few things we need to clarify.”

I nodded once, my voice caught in my throat, unable to break free.

“No drugs,” he stated plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I know it’s obvious, but I’m saying it anyway.”

“And grades,” he concluded, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “You need to maintain them as best as you can. Although, I understand you won’t be starting school for a while. But it is coming up in a few weeks.”

That last statement stung, a sharp reminder of the aspirations I once had. I used to care about school, about learning, before everything spiraled out of control with Tiffany and the turmoil at home.

I nodded again, this time more slowly, the weight of my thoughts slowing my movements. He pushed off the desk, striding toward the bookshelf as if he believed the conversation had reached its conclusion.

But then, he hesitated, turning back to me, his voice dropping to a softer pitch. “And Aurora,” he said, the gravity of his words palpable. “They might not be good at this. But they’re not your enemies. They’re your brothers. Whether they like it or not.”

I wanted to believe him. Oh, how desperately I wanted to embrace that hope. But the ache in my heart lingered from the way Leon had yelled earlier, the hollow feeling in my stomach from dinner still gnawing at me. My throat felt constricted, filled with all the things I had left unspoken.

So, I simply nodded.

Because clinging to hope felt too daunting.