Mated To The Mafia Werewolves

The day was going awful for Alessia. She was hung over, but not only that; some idiot had decided to clasp her hands and legs to the wall and floor using some iron chain.

However, she knew the idiot would be none other than Sandro. He was the only one that could pull off such a ridiculous thing.

Yet, she didn’t know what her offence was.

She let out a wince as the light drifted into her half-opened eyes. She shut them back and bit her lower lip.

Her head pounded, and wherever she was seemed damp, adding to her distress.

She had tried severally to shove down the vomit in her throat, and she doubted she could do so for long.

Her eyes opened eventually, and she sniffled as she gazed around. It was dark, darker than she had imagined. Only a torch by the wall illuminated the room.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

But the glow from it wasn’t still enough to call it light.

She caught sight of a movement and croaked out. “Help.”

She clanked the chains holding her together to grasp the attention of whoever was there, but it seemed she was speaking to herself.

She resigned after several attempts, and almost immediately, the door to the room opened, and Sandro strode in.

He stopped a few feet away from her and squatted. “Tell me, are you not delicate, Rose?”

Alessia frowned, and she shook her head.

“You speak when I ask you. Do not nod at me!” Sandro yelled, smacking her hard on the cheek.

“Shit…” Alessia bit on her bottom lip due to the force of the blow, and she felt it draw blood. “It hurts.”

She sniffled as tears gathered in her eyes.

“Do you fucking want to speak, or do I need to bring the words out of you?!”

“I’m not Delicate Rose. I do not know who that is!” She sobbed as the tears began to fall in high torrents. “I do not understand what’s going on and why I am held against my will.”

Sandro let out a grunt. “Who am I fucking believing? One said she wasn’t, and the other said she wasn’t as well. I can’t be fooled easily!”

He strode to her and pulled her up. His hand gripped the strap of her gown, and he shredded it.

“Let me go, please,” Alessia begged. Her head still pounded, and more vomit surged up her throat.

She didn’t know what Sandro was doing or what he was talking about, but she had heard the name and had seen it written next to the picture in the cellar.

She had never asked what it meant and what it was before.

But she wished she had. At least it would save her from the humiliation she was suffering.

She saw his eyes flash golden, and she swallowed hard. Sandro leaned into her, and he whispered.

“Do you know what I do to girls like you? To girls who lie to me?”

Alessia shook her head, and her eyes rounded. Sandro opened his mouth to speak, but before anything could come out of it, the door went ajar, and Blaze strode in.

Blaze halted in his track, and his eyes narrowed as he saw what was before him. “How many more women would you torture to have your way?”

“Stay out of it!” He snapped, still staring at an obviously frightened Rose.

“She was meant to come to serve you some purpose…”

“She’s a sham. She isn’t even Delicate Rose!” He glowered.

“That isn’t the reason to punish her, and we don’t know for sure if she’s a fraud as another ritual hasn’t been carried out. You can easily let her be before…”

“She shares the same resemblance as the bitch that fled. So, she’ll pay for everything. And you are my Beta; questioning me should be the last thing you should do!”

“Even when you are going wrong? I thought I was to be your adviser and second in command.”

“Fuck adviser, just do as I fucking say.” Sandro thundered.

Blaze sighed. “That may have to wait. We have a far more pressing issue…”

“Why do I feel you do this on purpose? You interrupt me all the damn time.”

Blaze slipped out a manila envelope from the pocket of his khaki trench coat and waved it at Sandro. “I got this from the mailman.”

Sandro snatched the envelope from him and tore it open. He perused the content, and he let out a curse.

“That was my exact thought when I saw it.”

Sandro gazed at Alessia and then turned to Blaze.

“Position some Delta in this room. She’s not to escape; else they’ll be all dead.” Sandro said before he walked out.

“Help me.” Alessia sobbed as soon as Sandro left. She stared at Blaze with a tear-stained face and extended her hand to him.

“I do not understand what’s going on and who you want. I swear on my life and my Papa’s life. I do not know her!”

“I know,” Blaze said, shrugging out of his trench coat. He draped it around her and caressed her bruised cheeks.

“I need to get to my Papa. He’ll be worried about me. Even my mama. Please help me.” Alessia gripped his shirt.

Blaze stared at her and shook his head. Of course, he could help her, just as he did to Arabella, but it was a hard request. He was being watched. Everyone’s eyes were on him, and he wondered how he’d smuggle Alessia out of the room without getting caught.

Moreover, the content of the letter was one of the reasons he could not grant her request. Her father, Russo Romano, had decided to wage war on them.

He had written the letter for them to hand over Alessia in twenty hours or everyone be killed.

Russo Romano could do just that as he was a powerful man, but then, he doubted the pack would fall easily. They weren’t that weak any longer.

Besides, he was aware Alessia wasn’t Delicate Rose after the first time. He believed Arabella was, and both women were, in fact, related.

He turned to Alessia and flashed her a smile. “I’ll surely keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about anything. And Sandro will never hurt you under my watch.”

Alessia nodded. “Thank you.” She tried to smile at him but failed. She stumbled forward, and he gripped her before she hit the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Blaze asked.

Alessia noticed his voice sounded a bit far away. She tried to strain her ears to hear him clearly, but she couldn’t. Her eyes fluttered against her pale cheeks, and a few seconds later, she succumbed to the darkness calling into her.