Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120: "All I Need To Beat"

Natalia made her way out of the spectator gallery and into the backstage corridors.

She knew exactly where Nazario would be.

Sure enough, he stood alone in a secluded corner, well away from prying eyes, his back resting lazily against the wall while his half-lidded gaze remained fixed on the nearest monitor mounted across the corridor.

He sensed her approach long before she reached him.

Without even turning his head, he spoke first, his voice dripping with lazy amusement.

"So... you’re coming to find me after your brilliant plan failed, eh?"

Natalia stopped several paces away, folding her arms neatly across her chest.

"Save that attitude for yourself," she replied coolly. "Unless you’d like House Porto to withdraw the support I’ve been providing you within your father’s household."

Nazario merely shrugged, as though the threat couldn’t have interested him less.

"Were you bluffing about those rounds?" he asked lazily. "I risked my credibility with Father to swap the damn things."

"They could not have been defective," Natalia answered at once. "Jordan may simply have been... unusually fortunate. Or more skilled than anticipated."

Nazario slowly lifted a brow.

"Fortunate? Skilled?"

A quiet scoff escaped him.

"With that many rounds fired and not a single target missed? No amount of luck — or skill, for that matter — should make that possible."

A flicker of irritation crossed Natalia’s otherwise composed face before disappearing just as quickly.

"Whatever the cause, our course of action remains unchanged. You will ensure Jordan does not advance beyond the second round, no matter what it takes."

For the briefest instant, the lazy indifference vanished from Nazario’s face.

"I told you from the beginning, didn’t I? You should’ve just let me take care of him in the second round."

A dangerous smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.

"Jordan’s never been particularly outstanding in the Dark Room. From everything I’ve secretly observed during his blindfolded training sessions..." His smile sharpened. "...he doesn’t stand a chance against me."

The dangerous glint lasted only a heartbeat. His shoulders slumped once more, and he yawned, looking as though the conversation had already exhausted him.

"But tomorrow’s fun belongs to tomorrow."

His gaze drifted lazily back to the monitor.

"For now... I’ve got a much more entertaining drama to watch."

Natalia followed his line of sight.

At that exact moment, the broadcast switched to the starting platform.

A petite figure stepped beneath the spotlight.

Over the speakers, the Head Coordinator’s booming voice echoed throughout the warehouse.

"Our next contestant..."

"The final competitor of the First Round of the Marchetti Trials..."

"And making her very first appearance in the history of the competition..."

"Welcome to the platform, House Marchetti’s newest weapons consultant and the heiress of House Lombardi..."

"Ariana Lombardi!"

Unlike the reception given to the previous contestants, the announcement sent an entirely different wave through the audience.

Those who already knew the Lombardi heiress was participating erupted with excitement.

Those hearing it for the first time stared openly in disbelief.

"Wait... the Lombardi heiress is actually competing?"

"What was she thinking? This is a Marchetti internal competition."

"Well, she’s technically one of us now. The Boss hired her."

"You seriously think she’s gonna make it?"

"With that little frame?" Someone snorted. "No chance. I’d bet money she doesn’t even make the top sixteen."

High in the distinguished gallery, the conversation naturally found its way to the same topic.

As always, Giovanni Porto was the first to speak.

"Well, Don Eduardo?" he asked with an amused smile. "She’s the last contestant. Do you think she’ll make the top sixteen?"

Eduardo did not answer immediately.

Resting his chin lightly against one hand, he studied the young woman standing alone beneath the spotlight.

Her posture was relaxed, her wide eyes wandering curiously across the enormous floodlights overhead as though she’d never stood beneath such brilliant illumination before.

Every so often, someone in the audience waved enthusiastically toward her, and she returned the greeting with an awkward little wave of her own, smiling with unmistakable nervousness.

But Eduardo knew better.

Twice now, he had watched that awkward young woman transform without warning into someone quietly lethal.

Twice, she had displayed a level of composure and efficiency capable of stirring even a seasoned man like him into cautious respect.

At the Summit...

At Range Three...

After several thoughtful seconds, Eduardo finally spoke.

"I doubt she’ll have an easy time with the course. This is not the Summit. She won’t be facing a handful of terrorists she can subdue with martial arts alone."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"But... I have reason to believe she’ll earn herself a place in the second round."

Giovanni looked genuinely surprised.

"Oh?"

He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin before looking back toward Aren.

"Then perhaps I’ll make things interesting. I’ll wager she doesn’t."

Eduardo’s smile deepened ever so slightly.

"We shall see."

The two men fell silent once more, their attention returning to the enormous display.

Down below, Aren had just finished waving politely at yet another stranger somewhere in the audience.

Only then did she shift her attention toward the massive leaderboard suspended above the course.

Now that every other contestant had completed their run, the rankings were fully populated.

Jordan Marchetti remained firmly in first place.

1:22.

No one had managed to surpass his record.

Directly beneath him sat Nazario.

1:24.

Third belonged to Sofia.

1:39.

Fourth to Rosalia.

1:42.

The remaining twelve positions were occupied by Marchetti soldiers and staff, their finishing times ranging from one minute and forty-three seconds to two minutes and three seconds.

Across the staging area, Aren quickly spotted the contestant sitting in sixteenth place.

The poor man had both hands clasped together, his eyes squeezed shut as though praying to every god willing to listen that the final contestant would somehow fail.

Feeling slightly guilty, Aren offered the anxious man an apologetic little smile.

’I’m very sorry... I really need to get into the second round.’

She looked back up at the leaderboard.

’Two minutes... three seconds.’

’That’s all I need to beat.’

’There’s no reason to reveal too much in front of this many spectators... especially with cameras recording everything.’

’I need to be very careful. Fast enough to qualify, but not so fast that everyone starts questioning my identity.’

Then her gaze drifted toward the spectator galleries.

’I wonder...’

’Is Jordan watching me right now?’

The thought alone drew a warm smile to her face.

With quiet confidence, she settled calmly into her starting stance before raising a thumb toward the Head Coordinator.

Seeing the signal, he lifted one arm high.

"Ariana Lombardi."

The warehouse seemed to fall into complete silence.

"Ready."

"Start!"

Aren launched from the starting platform the instant the signal sounded.

She entered The Ascent at full speed, catching the hanging cargo net without hesitation.

Unlike the larger, heavier contestants who relied on brute strength to scale the towering wall of shipping containers, her small frame transformed the climb into something effortless. She darted upward with astonishing speed, nimble as a squirrel racing through tree branches, barely seeming to weigh anything at all.

Hidden panels burst open around the climbing wall.

Steel targets sprang from the container plating one after another.

’One.’

CLANG!

’Two.’

CLANG!

’Three.’

CLANG!

’Four.’

CLANG!

’Five.’

CLANG!

’Six.’

BANG!

+5 Seconds Penalty

’...Did I imagine that?’

’No...’

’She definitely moved her wrist.’

’...What on earth are you doing, Ariana?’

The Factory Floor.

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