Mated To The Mafia Werewolves

“We were attacked after escaping that dratted past I had to delve into with Bella,” Sandro explained. Currently, in a small room within the meeting hall, he narrated the events to Brianna, who sat listening.

“I need to verify everything the bitch said; she can’t force me to endure all that and knowing she was lying to me,” Sandro grunted, pacing the room.

He halted, glaring at Brianna, who remained silent. She neither agreed nor disagreed with what he said; instead, she stared blankly ahead.

“Brianna!” Sandro growled, moving toward her to grab her attention. However, he stopped as he heard her voice.

“She spoke the truth, Alpha,” Brianna said, turning her gaze to Sandro. “She was the first of her kind, responsible for this calamity. The first doppelganger and your ancestors played a part, too.”

Brianna continued, “She lured you into the past to manipulate you both for her evil agenda. If she had succeeded, she would not only have killed you both but all supernatural beings, making the rest her slaves.”

“I suspected she had such plans,” Sandro said. “Paolo is now attempting the same. I don’t understand why he wanted Bella again if he already had Alessia.”

“Bella is everything, Alpha.” Brianna stood up, stepping away from where she sat. She stood in the center of the room, her eyes narrowing before looking upward.

Sandro watched her mouth move, but no sound came out. Wondering if she was in a trance with her closed eyes, he waited for her to speak.

When her eyes opened, Brianna shook her head. “The Luna…”

“I never agreed to make her one,” Sandro retorted, cutting her off.

“Eventually, she will be.” Brianna shrugged, then continued as if uninterrupted. “The Luna is the missing piece of the puzzle he needs. I am certain Astralys, Clarisse, or whatever identity she assumed spoke about the twin convergence?”

Sandro nodded, “I initially thought it was stupid and didn’t pay much attention.”

“I think you should listen now,” Brianna moved closer. “If the Luna is captured, not only will she be forced to fight Alessia, but we all know she’d win due to her superior power. She might try to reason with her, but historically, talking has never worked. They will eventually merge and bring about destruction.”

“So, what does that mean?” Sandro frowned, trying to grasp the situation. He had intended to discuss Paolo and Blaze’s death with Brianna, but she seemed focused on Arabella.

“Protect her at all costs, Alpha. Your fate is tied to hers because her blood keeps you alive. If she’s captured, it’s the end for everyone.”

“And why is it her blood I need to resist bloodlust? Can’t there be another way?”

“Astralys never showed you how she died-her ancestor. Your ancestor killed her, and in her agony, she placed a curse on your bloodline, leading to rage and bloodlust. The goddess didn’t curse you; she did. The goddess made her your redemption.” Brianna explained.

“That’s confusing,” Sandro murmured. “John took the goddess’ crest, making her furious, which in turn made her curse me. Isn’t that the reason?”

Brianna shook her head, her eyes closed briefly, and when they opened, they were whitish, her voice lower. “Before John took the crest, a scheme by the goddess for Arabella to come your way, your ancestor committed that atrocity.”

Sandro ran a hand through his hair, “This is messed up.”

“She’s your true mate, given by the goddess. You can’t reject her, Alpha. Do right by her, and above all, protect her. And she’s carrying your child as well, which is a plus for you.” Brianna finished, heading toward the door.

She gripped the doorknob, then stopped. Her head turned back, “Blaze understood what was going to happen to him before ignoring the voices in his head. Despite Arabella being his mate, she was also his downfall.”

“I’m going to prepare for the funeral,” Brianna said, stepping out of the room.

Sandro stared at the door for a while when Brinna left. He thought of all the things she had said, most especially about Arabella.

Then his thoughts wandered to Blaze and Paolo. He emitted a low growl, “I won’t spare you, Paolo. Even if it means taking you to the grave with me, I won’t spare you!”

When he returned to the room later, Arabella remained in the same position, staring into nothing. She hadn’t bothered to change her outfit.

He approached her, crouching and taking her hand. She didn’t react.

“Cara,” he murmured, intertwining their hands, sharing his warmth with her cold ones.

With no response, he tried again, “Bella.”

Arabella turned her head mechanically, gazing at him with unfocused eyes.

“Can you at least change out of this bloody outfit?” he asked.

After waiting another minute with no response, he sighed and began doing it himself.

Stripping her out of her clothes, leaving only her pant and bra, he handed her one of his shirts, helping her put it on.

Sandro went to the bathroom, grabbed a bowl, filled it with water, and took a washcloth. Dampening the cloth, he wiped her face, hands, and any areas touched by blood.

After finishing, he returned the bowl, now filled with Blaze’s blood, to the bathroom.

“Would you like to eat something?” he asked.

Once again, there was no response.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes. I can’t watch you starve those innocent children,” he said.

Sandro left the room and returned with a tray of plentiful food. As he set it before Arabella, she gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth and stumbling towards the bathroom just in time to retch into the toilet.

“Did I do something wrong?” Sandro frowned, stepping towards the bathroom to see her still bent over the toilet.

He lifted her hair out of her face and rubbed her back as she coughed.

Arabella’s body and stomach spasmed; she gripped the toilet seat.

Sandro allowed her a moment, never leaving her side, just letting her catch her breath.

“Are you alright?” He asked, but as usual, received no response.Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Fine. I’ll do it my way then.” He said.

After letting her rinse her mouth with the water he provided, he hoisted her over his shoulder, entered the room, and placed her on the bed.

Arabella lay facing the wall.

Maybe she needed time, he mused. He had been this way too when his mother died, given time to grieve by the pack.

Perhaps that was what Arabella needed, but for how long? He wondered, glaring at the steam drifting from the food.