Mated To The Mafia Werewolves

After navigating her unfamiliar surroundings, Arabella realized she was not as alone in the room as she had thought. She clutched one of the pillars, taking cover behind it as she heard voices.

“Sandro,” Arabella murmured, a frown creasing her face. It sounded remarkably like him, but she couldn’t be certain. Besides, she wondered if her sudden transportation here was anything like what had happened to Her, Blaze, Sandro, and Alessia back at Ascotan.

“No, it’s different,” she muttered, shaking her head. Clarisse had mentioned that they were experiencing events from a hundred years ago firsthand.

Arabella let out a breath, her eyes narrowing as she waited for the approaching figures to reveal themselves. As the footsteps drew nearer, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Instinctively, her hand shot to cover her mouth. She gasped into her hands, her eyes widening as she turned to see who it was.

“Clarisse,” she hissed, glaring. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarisse muttered.

Arabella glanced behind her, but Sandro was nowhere in sight.

“Don’t worry. He’s somewhere nearby. He needs to understand what’s happening before he joins you,” Clarisse reassured.

“I’m not worried,” Arabella stated. If anything, she was relieved he wasn’t with her at this very moment.

“So, why am I here? What should I know?” she asked Clarisse.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

Just then, a man approached them. Arabella darted around, ducking behind another pillar, causing Clarisse to chuckle.

“It’s fine. He can’t see you. No one can,” Clarisse assured. “Just think of this as being in their minds and witnessing how it all began.”

Arabella wasn’t entirely sure if she could trust Clarisse. The menacing-looking spear in the man’s hand compelled her to remain hidden. She didn’t want to take Clarisse’s word, emerge from her hiding spot, and ultimately regret it.

“Alpha,” a voice said, accompanied by another set of footsteps.

The man who had been walking earlier came to a halt, prompting Arabella to peek out from her hiding place, seizing the opportunity to scrutinize who the alpha was and who had addressed him.

“Sandro,” she said for the second time, this time in genuine surprise.

The man looked uncannily like Sandro-no, scratch that-he was Sandro in the flesh. His piercing green eyes, proud aquiline nose, strong physique, and tousled hair were all unmistakably Sandro’s. He possessed a chiseled jawline that could give Adonis a run for his money, and the way he smirked… Damn it, why on earth was she staring at another Sandro?

“He’s Alessandro Rocco De Luca the first. The first of his name and the person from whom the sin originated in the De Luca household,” Clarisse explained.

“He looks just like Sandro,” Arabella marveled. She’d noticed how she and Alessia bore a striking resemblance. Yet, anyone who truly knew them could easily tell them apart. It wasn’t just about their style or the way they carried themselves.

But this man she was gazing at, she could hardly discern any significant difference between him and Sandro. They acted alike and looked alike, and perhaps, if Sandro were in this timeline as well, he would dress in the same manner. Alessandro, the first, was clad in a breech, waistcoat, and coat, whereas the Sandro she was familiar with was much more contemporary in his attire.

“What is it?” Alessandro the first asked, his gaze fixed on the person who had called him.

Arabella guessed he was a guard.

“You sent for me,” the guard stated.

“Ah, yes. Eric, isn’t it?” Alessandro, the first inquired.

“Yes, it is,” Eric affirmed with a nod, his head still bowed.

“Gather your finest warrior. We are paying them a visit today, and we need to bring the Rose with us,” he commanded.

“A-Alpha,” Eric stammered, visible tremors in his features. “The last time I heard, they were infiltrated. Everyone who went there was killed. She’s the most powerful being ever, Alpha. No one can approach her without forfeiting their life.”

“I am the alpha,” Alessandro the first snarled. “And whatever order I give shall be obeyed. Would a common whore possess more power than I do? I reign over Ascotan and its environs!”

“But Alpha…” Eric attempted to interject.

However, Alessandro, the first, cut him off. “Unless you’re ready to forfeit your life this very moment, you will obey me.”

“I’ll do as you say. I’ll assemble the finest warrior, Alpha,” Eric conceded, scrambling to his feet.

A sinister smile crept onto Alessandro the first’s face as he observed Eric dart away.

“That’s more like it. This is your final day, whore,” he declared before stepping away.

Arabella turned to Clarisse, her brow furrowed. “What is happening? And who is he going to infiltrate?”

“Keep watching,” Clarisse advised, her tone just as mysterious as before. Arabella would have preferred hearing the story rather than experiencing it. She didn’t like the direction the narrative was taking, and for the first time, she wished Sandro hadn’t interrupted and had simply trusted Clarisse.

“So…” Arabella began, but when she turned around, Clarisse was no longer with her.

Walking towards where Alessandro the first had gone, she discovered it was another chamber. More like a dungeon, really. She winced, clutching herself as she felt the echoes of the many people who had met their end within these walls. All their pain, tears, anger, and regrets surged into her at once as she stepped into the room.

Arabella stumbled, her head now pounding. She shouldn’t be feeling anything here. Clarisse had told her they wouldn’t be able to see her, but she hadn’t mentioned that she might still feel something. She wondered if Clarisse had omitted that detail on purpose.

“Arabella,” a voice called out. It was so loud it felt like it might shatter her eardrums.

“Stop,” she murmured, her eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched.

“Why?” a spectral voice responded. “Why should we?”

“Please, stop,” Arabella cried.

“You caused this. You were selfish and never understood our pain. You were so power-hungry and made us suffer for centuries, so now you are going to pay for everything that happened!” the voice proclaimed. It was as if many voices were speaking as one.

“Stop!” Arabella growled, her hands pressed tightly against her ears.

For a few seconds, the room fell silent, and the only sound was the gentle breeze drifting through.

Arabella opened her eyes and saw a figure standing before her. It was a woman clad in a bloodied nightgown. Her head seemed almost detached from her neck, and a sinister grin stretched across her battered face- if one could even call it that.

“Who are you?” Arabella inquired.

“I am you, dear child, and you are me,” the woman replied.

“No,” Arabella shook her head.

“Come with me,” she beckoned with a wave of her hand.

With feet that seemed to move on their own, Arabella found herself following the mysterious woman.