Trapped by Seven Mafia Wolves novel Chapter 99

**TITLE: Stars Refuse To Blink by Asa River Knox**
**Chapter 99**

**Nightmares**

**Aurora’s POV**

The stillness of the room envelops me, yet it feels anything but serene.

Perched on the edge of the bed, I am cocooned in a world of discomfort. The soft rustle of the bandages wraps around me, mingling with the sharp sting of gauze brushing against my tender, raw skin. One arm is tightly bound, a reminder of my fragility, while my ribs throb beneath the layers, a constant ache that refuses to fade. My wrist, encased in a cast, feels stiff and foreign, as if my body is a puzzle with pieces that no longer fit together. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic ointment and the sterile aroma of hospital soap, a scent that clings to my senses and makes me feel more like a patient than a person. I feel as though my body is on the verge of falling apart, barely holding itself together.

I shut my eyes, not out of fatigue—though I am undeniably tired—but in a desperate attempt to escape. If only for a fleeting moment, I wish to feel nothing. Just a brief second of peace. Sleep drags me under, pulling me into its depths before I even realize what’s happening.

And then, without warning, I find myself back there.

The house.

The walls, stained and yellowed with smoke, seem to close in on me. The sound of her voice—my mother—pierces the air, sharp and jagged, like glass shattering all around me. Her words, thick with venom, cut deep and linger in my mind, leaving scars that burn whenever I dare to recall them.

“You’re worthless—do you hear me? You’re nothing! Always causing problems, always getting in the way!”

Even within the confines of my nightmare, I flinch at her words.

Then comes the other voice. His voice. Her boyfriend. I can hear his heavy footsteps thundering through the room, the sound of a beer bottle colliding with the counter reverberating in my ears. His laugh, slow and cruel, fills the air, wrapping around me like a noose. He is coming closer.

Too close. Always too close. My back hits the wall, a barrier that offers no real protection. I search for her—she’s right there—but she remains frozen, an observer in this horror. She doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t even flinch. It’s as if this is all normal to her. His shadow looms over me, dark and threatening, and I try to scream, but no sound escapes my lips. He leans in, his grip tightening around my arm, and the stench of alcohol on his breath makes my stomach churn.

His hand begins to slide lower, and just as the panic surges within me, I jolt awake, a scream clawing its way from my throat. My body is ablaze, every limb engulfed in a searing pain. I must have thrashed against my injuries, and it feels as if I have torn something open once more. My chest heaves with frantic breaths, and my vision blurs. The bandages constrict around me, suffocating, and the walls seem to close in, pressing against me.

“Stop,” I gasp, curling forward in a futile attempt to find comfort. My head pounds mercilessly, and my skin feels too tight, as if it might burst. “Stop. Stop. Stop. Please, get out. Get out of my head—”

I clutch my head with trembling hands, sobs breaking free, loud and raw, echoing in the silence of the room.

“They’re not real,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “They’re not real. It’s not real anymore. You can’t hurt me. You can’t—”

Yet the voices persist, echoing in my mind. Her words. His hands. That house.

The door creaks open, and Luka steps in, grumbling about something under his breath. But then he halts, his eyes widening in horror as he takes in the sight of me—rocking back and forth, gasping for air, eyes wild, drenched in sweat. His mouth opens as if to speak, but no words emerge. Just then, Raphael appears behind him, pushing past without a moment’s hesitation.

“Move,” he snaps, not even glancing at Luka. In an instant, he kneels beside me, grasping my trembling hands in his. His grip is firm yet gentle, a lifeline in my chaos.

“Hey—hey, breathe. Come on, breathe like I showed you. In through your nose—slow. Out through your mouth. That’s it. Think of the good, Aurora. Happy thoughts. Hold onto them.”

His voice, steady and warm, cuts through the cacophony in my mind, but I can barely hear him. The noise in my head is deafening, a storm raging within. Yet his hands are a comfort, a grounding force. I cling to his voice, attempting to match my breathing to his rhythm.

“Happy thoughts,” I whisper through clenched teeth, rocking slightly. “Happy thoughts… happy thoughts…”

And then, like a flicker of light in the darkness, she appears. Mom. She sits beside me, her fingers brushing my hair gently, humming a lullaby that I didn’t realize had been etched in my memory all these years. She leans closer, her voice soft and soothing, “There’s my brave girl.”

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