Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50: "Again"

They moved at the same time.

Jordan exploded forward, closing the distance in a single heartbeat before launching a strike toward Aren’s shoulder — a probing attack designed to test her reflexes and gauge how she responded under pressure.

To his surprise, she didn’t retreat.

Instead, she waited until the very last possible instant before slipping past the attack with effortless precision.

"You’re very fast," she murmured as she passed him, her voice brushing near his ear.

Her fingers caught his wrist, light as silk, while her other palm touched his chest. The movement felt so gentle, almost casual, it barely registered as an attack.

Jordan pivoted immediately, trying to recover his angle and keep her in sight, but the instant he turned, he felt a subtle pull at his center of gravity.

Aren had already caught his shirt. What should have been a simple grip became a trap as she redirected his momentum against him.

Jordan immediately dug his boots into the mat, attempting to reestablish his stance, but it didn’t matter.

Before he could stabilize, Aren was already at his flank — moving as though she had crossed the distance without ever touching the ground.

A gentle shove landed against his side.

The world tilted.

The floor rushed up to meet him.

THUMP!

Jordan hit the mat hard. The impact punched the air from his lungs in a sharp grunt.

For one long moment, he simply lay there, staring up at the ceiling lights as they blurred and spun overhead.

’What the hell just happened?’

Before he could even process it, Aren was already kneeling beside him.

Unlike the effortless confidence she had displayed during the exchange, she now looked faintly flustered, as though regretting every single move she’d made.

"My apologies," she said quickly. "I might have used too much leverage. Are you okay?"

Jordan was anything but okay. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, still trying to catch his breath.

The exchange had lasted only seconds, yet it felt as though his understanding of combat had just been dismantled in front of him.

Then he met her eyes.

The honest concern he found there did far more dangerous things to his pulse than the fall itself.

"Again," he said at once.

Beside the mat, Biscuit let out an enthusiastic yip.

They reset.

Both returned to their starting positions, facing each other across the training mat.

The second round lasted longer.

Unfortunately, not by much.

Jordan adapted quickly. He knew how to learn from experience, how to brace better, how to anticipate movement.

This time, he watched her more carefully, preparing himself for the frightening speed she had demonstrated during the first exchange.

Forty-five seconds later...

He found himself staring at the ceiling lights again.

’This is impossible.’

His heart hammered against his ribs.

’Her speed is insane.’

Every nerve in his body screamed in protest as though reality itself had shifted right before his eyes.

Years of training under House Marchetti’s best instructors suddenly felt less like elite combat education and more like children playing games in a schoolyard.

Before his brain could catch up with what had just happened, a small, pale hand reached down into his line of sight.

Aren was crouching beside him once more, concern lingering on her face.

"Um... again?" she asked hesitantly, almost shyly.

The contrast was absurd.

Moments earlier, she had moved like a force of nature and tossed him across the mat with humiliating ease. Now, she looked as though she was worried she might be inconveniencing him.

Jordan took that hand without hesitation.

"Again."

She helped pull him to his feet.

For the third round, Jordan abandoned aggression entirely.

He lowered his center of gravity and watched her carefully, tracking every shift of weight and every subtle movement of her shoulders and hips.

Aren flowed around him like water. Her footwork was impossibly light, deceptively graceful as she circled beyond his reach.

Until she lunged.

Whoosh!

Jordan barely had time to react.

One moment she stood outside his range.

The next, she suddenly appeared inside his safe zone — so close that he could catch the faint scent of vanilla lingering in her hair.

A rapid series of precise palm strikes followed, forcing Jordan back.

Jordan retreated under the assault and parried, his forearms colliding against hers, but every successful block seemed to place her somewhere else entirely. She was already moving again, already circling around him.

Swish!

THUD!

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