Mated To The Mafia Werewolves

Sandro’s jaw tightened, and his lips twisted into a snarl. He willed his wolf lace to come forth, but it felt like an impenetrable barrier stood between them, preventing him from shifting.

He growled, pushing against the invisible force repeatedly, but it remained unyielding.

“Shit!” He gritted his teeth. Failure to break free from the cuffs would result in his death, as Ezra said.

He was fucking trapped and couldn’t escape.

“Kneel before me,” ordered Ezra, jabbing Sandro’s chest with his knife.

Sandro ground his teeth together, refusing to obey. “Never,” he spat.

Ezra’s blood boiled at Sandro’s defiance, and he glared at him with fury. “I said kneel!” he roared, his knife flashing as he sliced it lightly across Sandro’s chest.

Sandro winced as the sharp blade cut into his flesh, blood oozing from the wound. He clenched his eyes shut, suppressing a cry of agony that threatened to escape his lips. He didn’t want to give Ezra the satisfaction of seeing him in pain.

“The boss said to kneel,” said one of Ezra’s men from behind, viciously kicking Sandro’s back.

Sandro stumbled forward, unable to maintain his balance, and fell to his knees. The injury on his chest compounded his weakness, sapping his strength. He struggled to remain upright, but the pain was too intense.

As Sandro sank to his knees, Ezra raised his knife, preparing to strike. “I hope you rot in hell, Sandro!” he exclaimed, a wicked laugh escaping his lips. With a fierce thrust, he brought the knife down towards Sandro’s chest.

“I’m sorry, Thalia,” Sandro whispered, his eyes shut tight as he braced for the impact.

He had vowed to fight until his last breath, accepting defeat only when it was his time. Sadly, that moment had arrived. The defeat was inevitable.

One second passed, then two, three, four, five. But Sandro remained alive. He opened his eyes, bewildered, and looked up at Ezra. To his surprise, the man had frozen in place, as had the men behind him. Sandro struggled to rise to his feet: he realised his shackles had disappeared, and his wound had miraculously healed.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“What the hell?” he muttered, utterly perplexed. Although he could heal, he didn’t think it would be that fast seeing as the blade Ezra had used on him was silver and coated with wolfsbane.

“You’re safe now, Alpha,” a soft, feminine voice said, causing Sandro to whirl around. To his astonishment, he saw that the twelve witches of the coven in his pack were standing before him.

How? He mused. He hadn’t seen them the moment they got to Acostan. Perhaps they had hidden somewhere. If that had been the case, b was glad.

Sandro’s gaze darted towards his pack members, who were frozen at the room’s far end. Everyone was immobile except for him and the witches. The spell had been lifted, and he could feel the presence of his wolf once more.

“You’re free now, Alpha. It would help if you did what you need to do. You have little time before our spell wears off,” urged the witch.

Sandro nodded and set off to carry out the one task in his mind. He need not be told, and he didn’t need to choose. The only thing he wanted to do was kill Ezra.

Sandro swiftly snatched the blade from Ezra’s hands and went on to his men, piercing each one in the chest before pulling out their hearts. Finally, he turned his attention to Ezra. With a lingering stare of contempt, he grasped the knife firmly and plunged it deep into Ezra’s chest.

The spell suddenly wore off, and everyone unfroze. The room was filled with the piercing screams of Ezra and his men, writhing in pain as they felt the raw agony stemming from their chests.

“How did you-” Ezra began to ask, but his words were cut short as he fell to the ground in a pool of his blood.

“Too bad you didn’t see that coming.” Sandro chuckled before wincing as the movement with his mouth made his jaw ache.

Sandro glanced at the rest pack members; he saw the disbelief in their eyes and the soft murmurs starting to saturate the hall.

However, it wasn’t long before they snapped out of their shock. As soon as the realisation of Ezra’s death dawned on them, their surprise turned to delight, and they cheered with joy.

“All hail Alpha Sandro!”

A smile crept up the corner of Sandro’s lips at the sight of his people’s happiness. He knew the next step was to regain the rest of the pack’s honour and find Arabella. He was confident that she was around somewhere, but where, exactly?