Claimed By The Five Mafia Brothers

Chapter 3

Aria POV

The door opens, and I flinch so hard I throw my arms up over my head before I even see who it is. My heart is pounding in my chest like it’s trying to break out, and for a second I’m sure I’m about to pass out.

“Aria.”

It’s Luca’s voice, furious and out of breath.

I drop my arms slowly. He’s standing in the doorway with a gun in his hand, his chest rising and falling fast, blood on his knuckles and a fresh cut above his eyebrow. Behind him, the hallway is chaos, broken glass glittering on the floor, furniture overturned, and two of his men lying still in a way that makes my stomach turn.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his eyes sweeping over me like he’s searching for bullet holes.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, my voice barely there. “Are they—”

“They’re gone,” he says, holstering the gun and stepping inside. He doesn’t touch me. “Caruso men. They hit the east gate, but we pushed them back.”

My legs give out, and I slide down the wall of the panic room, shaking so badly I can’t stop. My hands go to my stomach on instinct, to the twins, and Luca sees it. His jaw tightens.

“Can you walk?”

I nod, and he reaches down to pull me up. His hand is warm and rough against mine, and the second I’m steady, he lets go.

The house is a mess. Guards are everywhere, some injured, some shouting orders. Marco is sitting on the floor wrapping a bandage around his arm and actually grinning like this is fun. Enzo is on the phone in the corner, talking fast in Italian. Nico is pacing, and when he sees me he stops mid-step, relief flooding his face.

“You’re okay,” he breathes, like he’s been holding his breath.

Dante is by the window, his shoulder freshly bandaged, staring out into the dark. He doesn’t look at me.

Luca leads me to the kitchen, which is huge, all marble and steel and cold light. Someone sets a glass of water in my hand, and I don’t even remember who.

“Sit,” Luca says, and I do.

For five minutes, no one speaks. The only sounds are Enzo on the phone and the slow drip of a faucet somewhere. The silence is heavier than the gunfire was.

Finally, Luca pulls out a chair and sits across from me while the others stay standing, like they’re waiting for him to start.

“We need to talk,” he says.

“No s**t,” I snap, and my voice shakes despite me. “You just told me I’m pregnant with one of your babies, that I saw something I shouldn’t have, and now your house is getting shot up. I think we’re past ‘talking.’”

Marco barks a laugh from across the room. “She’s got fire. I like her.”

“Shut up, Marco,” Enzo says without looking up from his phone.

Luca ignores them both, his cold eyes locked on me.

“Here’s what’s happening,” he says. “Three months ago at Vesper, you saw a Caruso capo get executed. You don’t remember because someone drugged you, but you were there, and the Carusos know it.”

My stomach drops. “I didn’t see anything. I don’t remember.”

“That doesn’t matter to them,” Luca says. “To them, you’re a witness. And now you’re pregnant, and the timing means the father is one of us.”

The word _us_ hangs in the air, heavy and impossible.

I look at each of them, Luca, Dante, Marco, Enzo, Nico. Five brothers. And one of them got me pregnant on the worst night of my life.

“Why don’t you just do a paternity test?” I ask.

“We will,” Enzo says, finally looking up. “But not until week 16. It’s too risky before that, for you, and for them.”

Them.

Luca leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Until then, you stay here, under our protection. No one goes in or out without my permission. No phone. No contact with the outside.”

“That’s not protection, that’s prison.”

“It’s the only way you stay alive,” Luca says flatly. “The Carusos will kill you to shut you up, and they’ll kill the babies to hurt us.”

The word _babies_ makes my chest ache, and I press my hand over my stomach again.

“House rules,” Marco says, and suddenly the grin is gone. “Rule one: you don’t leave the estate. Rule two: you don’t talk to anyone without one of us present. Rule three: you eat, you sleep, you take care of yourself, because you’re carrying Moretti blood.”

“And rule four?” I ask quietly.

Nico answers, his voice soft. “Rule four: you’re safe here. With us.”

It sounds like a promise, and it sounds like a threat.

I push the water away. “I have a job. I have an apartment. I have a life.”

“You had a life,” Luca corrects me. “Now you have us.”

I want to scream, I want to fight, but I’m so tired my bones hurt. My head is still pounding, and the thought of going back to that empty apartment alone makes me feel sick.

“Fine,” I say. “But I have conditions.”

Luca raises an eyebrow. “You’re in no position to—”

“I’m carrying your heir,” I cut him off, and the words feel strange in my mouth. “So I get a doctor of my choice. I get to keep working from home. And I get answers. Real ones.”

The brothers look at each other, and Luca studies me for a long time before he nods once. “Done.”

“Good.” I stand up, my knees still shaky. “Where’s my room?”

“Still mine,” Luca says.

I stop. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s the safest room in the house,” Dante speaks for the first time, his voice low and rough. “Panic room access, reinforced walls, no windows.”

“I’m not sleeping in your bed.”

“You won’t have to,” Luca says. “There’s a couch.”

I want to argue, but I’m so exhausted I can barely stand, so I nod.

Nico walks me upstairs while the others stay downstairs, and the second we’re out of earshot I hear them start talking, arguing maybe.

Nico doesn’t say anything until we reach Luca’s room, and then he opens the door for me.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly.

“For what?”

“For this. For all of it.”

I look at him, young and scared and genuinely sorry, and I shake my head. “It’s not your fault.”

He gives me a small, sad smile. “Night, Aria.”

The door closes behind me with a soft click of the lock.

I’m alone in Luca Moretti’s room.

The bed is huge and black and empty, and the couch is smaller but has a blanket folded neatly on it. I sit down and pull my knees to my chest. My phone is gone, my life is gone, but the twins are here, and for now, they’re safe.

I don’t know how long I sit there before the door opens again.

It’s Luca. He’s changed shirts, and the cut on his eyebrow is cleaned. He looks at me on the couch, and something complicated moves across his face.

“You should sleep,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Nightmares?”

“Memories I don’t have.”

He nods like he understands, walks to the mini fridge, and sets a bottle of water on the table next to me.

“Eat something in the morning,” he says.

“I will.”

He stands there for a second like he wants to say something else, then turns to leave.

“Luca,” I say, and he stops.

“Which one of you is it?”

He doesn’t turn around. “We don’t know,” he says quietly. “But whoever it is, they’ll claim you. And they’ll claim them.”

And then he’s gone.

I lie down on the couch, pulling the blanket up to my chin. It smells like him, expensive cologne and gunpowder and something I can’t name.

Outside, Chicago is quiet.

Inside, five mafia brothers are deciding my fate.

And somewhere inside me, two tiny hearts are beating.

I close my eyes.

Tomorrow, the war starts.