Mated To The Mafia Werewolves

Sandro blinked once and then again as soon as he could see clearly.

He observed his environment.

It was the same as before. It felt the same way, at least; the lush grassland that surrounded everywhere, the calm wind that promised calmness yet hopelessness, the light blue sky that seemed as though all was well until that fateful morning.

All memories of the past flooded through him at once, and he winced, clutching his pounding head.

“On your knees!”

Sandro’s head snapped to one of the enemies who stormed towards them. He gripped a massive club and swung it in the air.

A wide smile adorned his lips as he moved towards them, and his dark eyes glinted.

“Ezra.” Sandro breathed out.

“Long time no see, old friend.” The man named Ezra said, his smile seemingly getting wider. “And might I add, it’s great to see you are alive.”

Sandro scowled at him. Of course, he had lived as he had escaped, but he couldn’t say the same for him.

Ezra had been his best friend. The only friend he knew until now.

Sandro had never imagined a day without both of them until the tragedy.

Shit, Sandro saw him get stabbed and torn into pieces. But why the fuck was he alive and acting as though nothing had happened?

Something wasn’t adding up. Sandro mused as he stared at him harder. Something was wrong, but how was he going to get to it? Because it seems Ezra standing in front of him was his enemy rather than an old friend he introduced himself as.

.

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Ten years ago

16 years Old(Sandro’s age at that time)

ACOSTAN PACKHOUSE

THE DE LUCA WEREWOLF FAMILY(MOONSTONE PACK)

“The enemies infiltrate the wall already!” Bryce Roman, moonstone pack beta, shouted as he strode into the great hall.

He shoved his hand into his dark hair and glared at the wall before turning to Rocco De Luca(Sandro’s father and Alpha of the pack), who walked towards him.

“It’s now or never, Alpha.” He said, bowing slightly to him.

“We have no other alternative, but the plan even seems more dangerous than we are making it look.” Rocco De Luca said.

Of course, it was a dangerous plan. Yet, they had no better option.

Despite the protection placed around the pack by the witches, it didn’t do much to stop the enemy. However, it seems they had better witches than them, and they were far stronger.

“What’s the plan?” Rocco asked, striding towards the window, and he peeped. That was the only place they could currently be used to check the situation at hand.

Rocco’s brows creased as he stared from his son, the intending Alpha, to his friend.

“The youngsters need to be out of the pack. Let them go through the secret tunnel. Then we can face the enemy and fight them off safely.”

“Father,” Sandro said as he walked towards his father. “Let me fight too. I trained a lot in the academy, and I am one of the best fighters in…”

“No!” Rocco cut him off. “You have a legacy to uphold, child. Keep your strength till when you become an Alpha.”

Rocco caressed Sandro’s cheeks and smiled wistfully. “Protect your mother, and always remember I love you.” He kissed the top of Sandro’s head, and he grimaced, attempting to move out of his reach.

Rocco chuckled. “I know you don’t like that, but it might be the last time I do this.”

Rocco straightened as he sensed movement outside the hall. His nostrils flared, and his ears twitched. “Now leave!” He shouted, shoving Sandro out of the way. “You need to take the children out of here, Isabella.”

“Come back to me in one piece, Rocco. Else I won’t forgive you.” Isabella said. She kissed him briefly and stared at him sternly.

“I’ll try my best!” Rocco murmured.

The door opened, and troops of the attackers’ pack marched into the room. Without even saying it, they were vastly outnumbered.

Rocco knew it would only take a miracle for them to win the fight.

“The children stay, and who’s the Alpha?” One of the attackers asked. He seems to be the leader; he stepped forward and tilted his head covered with a helmet before yanking it off.

Sandro shivered. The leader’s face was covered with bruises. It was as if he had fought with a werelion the day before because his face had several claw marks.

It wasn’t him alone; the others with him had the same mark. They all looked hideous.

“I am he.” Said Rocco as he stepped forward. “Your fight is with me and not the youngsters. Let them leave.”

“I am not leaving a stone untouched in this pack. Adult, infant, or any age whatsoever, they are all my Alpha’s enemy, and I had been ordered to kill all.”

He drew out the spear with him.

“Isabella.” Rocco murmured, “Stay by the door and try your best to escape. We’ll hold them off the best way we can.”

Isabella nodded as she moved to the door. One of the enemies darted forward, and Rocco gripped him by the neck, tearing it off his head.

“Leave my family alone; you want me, then kill me!” Rocco shouted.

“And always be on alert when making such a word; an enemy might be lying in wait for you!” The hideous face leader said and rushed forward with the knife with him.

He stabbed the silver knife into Rocco, and the latter gasped, shoving him.

“No!” Sandro yelled, but he was held back by his mother. “No, father!”

Sandro’s eyes bulged out as he glimpsed the devilish grin on the attacker’s face as he stabbed his father over again with the silver knife.

“Come on; we need to leave here!” Ezra said.

He had forgotten other werewolves were in the room.

But only his father seemed to be his main focus.

No one had been attacked except for him.

“Come on,” Isabella said as the attacker started coming towards her.

Sandro darted towards the entrance, and Ezra followed suit. He halted as he heard an agonized howl behind him

It was Ezra, and he had been hit!

Sandro growled. His shoulder popped, and his eyes flashed goldenly. He was transforming. Shit, he had finally changed but at the wrong time. Yet, that didn’t stop him. He shoved the incoming attacker with all his might and tore his head off.Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Sandro grunted as the attacker howled in anguish, but he didn’t stop what he was doing to him.

Sandro clawed at his face several times until he realized he was dead. Also, he heard his mother’s startled voice.

That was what snapped him out of the daze he was in.

He shifted back and rushed towards Ezra, ignoring the pain in his side from the swipe he had taken from the attacker.

“We’ll get the healer soon.” He mumbled, cradling Ezra’s pale face. “You and my father will be healed. Anyone injured will be taken care of.”

Sandro knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m cold.” Ezra stuttered. He attempted a smile, but it turned into a grimace instead.

“Please, stay with me. I can keep you warm.” Tears streamed down Sandro’s cheeks.

“Allesandro,” Isabella murmured.

“No, mother.” Sandro shook his head and shrugged his shoulder as she gripped him.

“Let him go; he’s gone.” She said.

“How can you say that?!” Sandro shouted. “The witches can heal him. They can’t be useless. That’s their work. We need to get back to father too!”

“He’s gone.” She repeated, and Sandro gazed at her.

“Do you care at all? You didn’t even attempt to save father! You didn’t even cry; I didn’t see a tear drop as your mate was stabbed. You seemed okay and…”

Sandro’s head whipped backward, and he gasped as his mother’s palm collided with his cheek. He gripped his chin while the other was in Ezra’s limp hand.

“I am freaking out!” Isabella shouted. “I am trying my best to be fine for you. I can’t break down because I need to look strong for my son. I am your mother, Allesandro, and at this time, I am doing the best I can to keep you safe!”

Sandro saw her lips and body tremble violently. He was wrong to have thought she didn’t care. He saw the tears swimming in her pale green eyes, and she tried her best not to let them fall.

“I’m sorry, mother, that is insensitive of me.”

“This is not the time for an apology, Allesandro. Except we are certain, we’d live. Still, we need to leave here else we’ll be in the same shoe.”

“I don’t want to leave him, mother; I don’t believe he’s gone,” Sandro mumbled, holding Ezra’s cold hand.

He knew the truth. He knew he was making himself feel better and didn’t want to accept that Ezra was dead. There was no way he’d accept it because somehow he believed he could be cured.

The door opened, and in strode the leader of the attacker and some more men.

“Look at their faces,” Isabella said.

And Sandro did just that. Hatred for the Alpha and the member of the pack surged through him. He had gotten his wolf, but he couldn’t attack by himself. He was weak!

The people before him were stronger and were using some weird magic that made them even more powerful.

“Memorise their features…” His mother continued. “Don’t you want to live and come back stronger to avenge your father and Ezra?!”

Sandro heard the hurt in her voice at the mention of her father. She was even taking everything better, or maybe it was the way she could handle grief. She was not giving in to it.

Sandro nodded and stared at her briefly, “I want to kill them all.”

“Tough luck, little boy.” The leader seemed to say, but Sandro wasn’t listening anymore.

“Then let’s leave and come back stronger.” With that, Isabella jerked him upward, and he let her drag him out of the hall.

Sandro didn’t know how they had escaped; he only saw himself in another town afterward. And he was grateful for that.

But the death of his father, Ezra, and the pack takeover never left his mind. It had always been his dream to come back and have his revenge, but perhaps, he shouldn’t have made it all that…