Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Arlo’s POV

The silence was suffocating.

It wasn’t the comfortable kind, the kind that settled between people who understood each other without words. No–chứ silence was thick with unspoken truths, heavy with the weight of last night’s words. We should have never brought her

lvere.

I hadn’t forgotten. I couldn’t.

But I refused to let it show.

So, I went about my morning like nothing was wrong, , even when the tension in the house coiled around me like a noose. Even when I stepped into the kitchen and found the triplets already seated, their gazes flickering toward me with something I couldn’t quite place.

Regret, maybe.

Pity, definitely.

I ignored them and went straight for the coffee, pouring myself a cup with steady hands, pretending I didn’t feel their eyes

on me.

Then, a cup slid across the counter. Toward me.

Matteo.

I stared at it, then at him.

He smirked, though it was dimmed by something softer, something almost hesitant. “Relax, princesa. It won’t kill you.”

I almost snorted. If he really wanted to poison me, he’d be more creative than coffee. Still, I hesitated. This wasn’t normal. None of this was normal.

Then Dante placed a plate of food beside my coffee, his movements precise, controlled–like he was making up for something without saying it outright.

And Enzo…

He didn’t say anything at all. Just sat there, watching me in that unreadable way of his before finally speaking. “There’s a new foal in the south stables. You should check on it.”

It was nothing. Just words. Just a simply statement.

But it felt like an apology.

I hated that it worked.

I should have pushed back, should have ignored them the way they had ignored me last night. But a part of me–the part: that was stupidly desperate for a place to belong–betrayed me.

Chapter 45

I took the coffee. I took the food. I took the unspoken apology for what it was.

For now.

I spent most of the afternoon in the stables, brushing down the foal Enzo had mentioned. She was beautiful–Grep chestnut brown with a stark white blaze running down her nose. Strong, but skittish. Guarded.

Like me.

I ran my fingers down her mane, exhaling slowly. “You don’t trust easily, do you?”

She huffed in response, flicking her tall.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Me neither.”

“Talking to animals now, princesa?”

I didn’t have to turn around to know Matteo was leaning against the stall, arms crossed, a lazy smirk playing at his lips.

focus on the f

I kept my focus

foal. “They listen better than some people.”

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “You wound me.”

I shot him a glare, but it didn’t hold much heat.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Look, about last night-

“Don’t.” I straightened, brushing my hands off on my jeans. “I don’t need your half–assed explanations, Matteo. Just….. don’t lie to me.”

Something flickered in his expression–something raw, something real. It was gone in an instant.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princesa.”

But he already was.

Keeping

me in the dark is just the same as lying.

By the time I got back to the house, the weight of the day clung to me. I stripped off my dusty clothes and stepped under the hot shower, letting the steam ease my tension. The scent of hay and sweat washed away, but the unanswered questions remained. The triplets had been trying in their own way–small gestures, fleeting moments of honesty–but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. I toweled off quickly, dressed, and headed downstairs, my resolve set. Tonight, I was getting answers.

I pulled on a black sweater, the soft fabric warm against my skin, and slipped into a pair of fitted jeans. Simple. Comfortable. But not too casual. Tugging my damp hair into a loose bun, I let a few strands fall around my face, not bothering with makeup beyond a swipe of lip balm.

I wasn’t dressing up for them.

I just needed to feel steady, in control–like I was walking into this conversation on my own terms. Because tonight wasn’t

214

Chapter 45

Just dinner. Tonight, I was getting the tritth.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was done pretending everything was fine.

The air was thick with tension as I set my fork down, staring at the three of them, my patience hanging by a thread.

“Are we really going to keep doing this?” I asked, my voice calm. Controlled.

Matteo arched a brow. “Doing what, sweetheart?”

1 leaned forward. “Pretending.”

Dante exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Aria-”

“No.” I cut him off, my pulse thrumming. “No more vague answers. No more secrets. You come home covered in blood, you disappear for hours without a word, and I’m supposed to sit here and act like it’s normal?”

Silence.

Matteo looked away. Dante clenched his jaw. Enzo’s grip on his fork tightened ever so slightly.

I swallowed, my chest tight. “If you don’t want me here, just say it. But if you do if you really do–then stop shutting me

out.”

More silence.

Then Enzo–silent, calculating, unreadable Enzo–set his fork down with a soft clink.

The air changed.

The shift was almost imperceptible, but I felt it. Like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Enzo’s voice was

squiet when he spoke. “We weren’t keeping you in the dark to hurt you.”

“Then why?” I challenged.

Dante exhaled, leaning back in his chair, the weight of something heavy settling over him.

Matteo stretched, rolling his shoulders. “You really want to know, princesa?”

I didn’t blink. “Yes.”

A slow, sharp smile curled his lips.

“Fine.”

The room felt colder.

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