Mated To The Mafia Werewolves

Arabella wiped away the tears sliding down her cheeks, hissing as pain shot through her side.

Her chest tightened, and she gulped in two deep breaths, blinking back tears.

“Blaze,” she muttered, shaking him in her hands, though he remained stiff. “Please wake up, please.”

Her shoulder trembled, her lips quivering, her head pounding, and her eyes aching. She wanted him to stir, to tease and laugh, but nothing happened.

Now, more than ever, she longed to hear his voice and the reassurance he always provided, promising that everything would be fine.

‘He’s dead, Bella. He’s dead,’ The words she didn’t want to say aloud echoed in her head. Arabella shook her head, unwilling to accept the truth. In her mind, he would rise, and they would return to the villa, her tending to his injuries.

He had to be okay; her tears held healing properties, just like the first time she had saved him. She believed she could do it again.

Even as more tears fell, he stayed motionless in her arms.

“What’s happening, Arabella?” Thalia’s wide eyes met Arabella’s, who shook her head.

Amidst everything unfolding, Arabella had forgotten about Thalia and Sandro.

“I-I don’t know, Thalia.” Arabella broke into sobs. “He won’t move or say anything. Is that fair? He promised me so much, and now he’s not moving anymore. Please tell him to wake up. He might listen to you.”Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“No, Cole, this can’t be true.” Thalia knelt beside Arabella, clasping Blaze’s once warm hands.

She placed two fingers by the side of his neck to feel for his pulse.

“No,” Thalia took a shuddering breath, eyes darting towards Sandro, who approached with his head hung low.

“I don’t care what happened between you two, Alessandro. My brother is your Beta. Command him to stand up right now!” Thalia ordered.

“Oh, my goodness, Cole.” Thalia cried, pulling Blaze close as Arabella let him go, her face smearing with blood from Blaze’s shirt.

Gasping, Thalia walked towards Sandro, pointing at his chest. “Why look sad? Cole isn’t dead. I know that. He’s strong and won’t leave me. He’s not that cruel, even if he tries.”

Pushing at Sandro, she hissed, “Show your authority now, De Luca. Show you’re the Alpha and command him to wake up!”

“Thalia…”

“Don’t ‘Thalia’ me, Sandro. Don’t, please.” She blubbered. “Cole needs to wake up. Arabella is carrying his babies, and there’s so much to discuss, especially about his unique wolf side. Plus, he promised me a getaway after all this mess ends!”

Thalia tossed her head back and burst into laughter. “He’s my brother, and I know he can be crazy sometimes. Forgive him; he’s definitely enjoying all that’s happening!”

Her expression was crazed, her teeth gritted, and Sandro knew that if he did nothing, she was going to lose control.

Approaching her in two steps, Sandro pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. Thalia quivered, wailing, while Sandro’s gaze shifted to Arabella.

Shoulders hunched, still holding Blaze’s body, she hadn’t moved and had spoken only to Thalia.

He longed to rush to her, to hold her in his arms and offer comfort, but he understood she needed to grieve.

He, too, was mourning. Despite his resentment towards Blaze for his actions, they had been the best of friends, relying on each other. Sandro was certain that if Blaze hadn’t taken that bullet, he would have.

Goodness, he was going to kill Paolo. If only he had waited a while longer, he believed he would have done that.

Regardless of how he would achieve it, he was determined to make Paolo pay for causing him and Arabella pain.

After allowing a moment of silence to settle, Sandro spoke, “Let’s get out of here.”

The pack house they currently were in was empty, making Sandro doubt if there was ever a pack, to begin with. Clarisse had deceived them, and he questioned the credibility of her entire story, even though she claimed it was all true.

Thalia moved slowly towards the car while Sandro crouched in front of Arabella.

“Hey,” he said, but she didn’t meet his gaze, her eyes fixed on Blaze’s shirt.

“Bella,” Sandro called.

“Blaze,” she replied, looking back at him, tear-streaked and red-eyed.

“I understand, sweetheart, but we need to leave,” he urged.

Arabella was unresponsive, continuing to stare blankly. Sandro gently freed her hands from Blaze’s shirt and guided her toward the car.

Returning to Blaze’s body, he muttered, “I’m sorry, buddy. I failed you. But I’m going to make that bastard pay.”

Sandro placed Blaze’s body in the car trunk before returning to the driver’s seat.

“Buckle up, Bella,” he murmured, receiving no response, so he secured her seatbelt himself.

The journey back to the villa was somber, lasting almost three hours and feeling like the longest in Sandro’s life.

Not only did the tense atmosphere in the car heightened, but he had narrowly avoided collisions with trees as thoughts of avenging Blaze consumed him.

Upon reaching the villa, a gathering of pack members awaited outside, likely informed of the situation. Annalise spoke first as Sandro stepped out.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” she began, but her words faltered as Sandro shook his head.

Her gaze swept over Arabella and Thalia as they stepped out of the car, both stained with blood like Sandro.

“Where’s Blaze?” Annalise asked, anticipating him to step out, but he didn’t. Sandro shook his head again.

“Listen, everyone,” Sandro’s voice cut through the murmurs. The air hushed as he spoke. “Prepare for a funeral.”

Annalise grasped the painful truth in his eyes and the firmness of his lips. She covered her mouth, whispering, “Oh, my goodness, Blaze.”

“I’m sorry, Annalise,” Sandro ran a hand through his hair. “Call Brianna. I need to talk to her.”

Annalise nodded, tears in her eyes. “I’ll do that right away.”

Sandro entered the villa, finding Arabella in the hallway. He took her hand, leading her to the room she had occupied before.

Opening the curtains for more light, he returned to her. “If you want to talk, Bella, I’m here. Remember that.”

Her silence frustrated him, but he resisted venting his frustration on her. After a lingering gaze, he left the room, hopeful that when he returned, she would open up to him.