Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 78

Chapter 78: "A Client To Save"

The heavy doors to the observation deck burst open with a thunderous bang.

One of the guards drove a boot into the rusted frame, the impact reverberating through the aging facility as he and his partner carried Aren into the dimly lit room.

"Bloody hell," one of them grunted, adjusting his grip on the chair. "You actually believe sixteen elite mercenaries died extracting this girl? She’s light as a feather, chair and all."

The other guard shrugged and nudged the door shut behind them.

"Who knows what really happened? I did see the SUV drivers looking pale as ghosts on the way back. Then again, those blokes aren’t real mercenaries. Either Daria’s talking out of her ass, or this chick is something genuinely terrifying."

With a dull thud, the chair hit the concrete floor.

Both men looked down at Aren’s bound form, each wearing a different expression of skepticism and curiosity.

Her small frame was wrapped tightly in industrial restraints, her face swollen and bruised from repeated blows, platinum hair hanging across her features.

Nothing about her appearance matched the stories they had heard. They exchanged a glance before breaking into mocking laughter.

"Definitely Daria bluffing," the first man spat onto the floor.

The second tipped his head toward the ceiling. "Think the boss actually pulls it off this time? Think he finally kills the Don?"

The first clicked his tongue dismissively. "Based on his track record? Not a chance I’d bet money on it. The madam looked ready to disown his useless ass."

On the chair, slumped forward in a flawless imitation of a drug-induced coma, Aren missed nothing. One particular word lodged itself immediately in her mind.

’Madam.’

The implication settled into place almost instantly.

’So Liviana Sartori really is behind this operation.’

’The restaurant ambush too.’

’And with Daria involved... they’re probably responsible for the six prisoners as well.’

Her thoughts shifted toward a more immediate concern.

’Now the question is how exactly I’m supposed to get out of these ropes and this chair.’

Before she could pursue the thought further, a rough hand seized her chin and turned her face from side to side, examining the bruises much the same way Gael had downstairs.

"Goddamn," the first guard muttered. "Can you believe this? Even looking like that, she’s still gorgeous!"

The second man’s eyes instantly darted toward the door. "Hey. Don’t start getting ideas," he warned sharply. "Keep your hands to yourself! We’re in the middle of a high-profile operation!"

The first guard looked entirely unconcerned. His gaze drifted over the restraints securing Aren to the chair.

"Oh, come on," he scoffed. "Like you’re not thinking the same thing."

The second shifted uneasily. "So what?!" he snapped. "Leave her alone and let’s get downstairs. I plan on living long enough to become a Sartori capo."

His partner ignored him completely.

Whatever ugly intentions had taken root in his head, he had no interest in concealing them.

"Relax," he said with a sneer. "Who’s going to know? We’re two floors above everyone else. Nobody’s hearing a thing up here."

With that, the first guard’s attention shifted entirely to the ropes. His fingers worked clumsily at the knots, trying to loosen the restraints.

The moment Aren felt his hands move toward the restraints, her stomach instantly twisted with disgust.

’Damn it.’

She forced herself to remain focused.

’Stay in operative mode.’

The urge to react immediately surged through her, but she crushed it down.

’Not yet.’

’I’m still restrained.’

’Reacting now accomplishes nothing.’

Her body stayed limp. Her breathing remained slow and steady.

Suddenly, the second man lunged forward and grabbed his wrist.

"Are you insane?!" he hissed. "Didn’t Daria specifically warn us not to mess with the ropes? What if she wasn’t exaggerating? What if this woman actually is dangerous?"

The first guard jerked his arm free and continued tugging at the restraints.

"For fuck’s sake, look at her," he snapped. "She’s been slapped half to death and hasn’t even twitched. She’s completely drugged out of her mind."

He flashed his partner a crooked grin and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You in or not? If not, stand outside and keep watch. I’ll finish up and be out in a minute."

The second guard stared at him in disbelief, but the hesitation in his eyes betrayed him.

His gaze flicked toward the door, then back to Aren’s motionless face. For several long seconds he visibly wrestled with himself before his resolve finally cracked.

"Fine," he muttered. "Just make it quick."

Moving hurriedly, he crouched beside the chair and began working at the restraints securing Aren’s legs.

The first guard smirked as his hands moved faster over the ropes binding Aren’s torso, but impatience quickly got the better of him.

With an irritated click of his tongue, he pulled a folding knife from his vest and began sawing through the thick hemp restraints.

A few rough cuts later, the main rope gave way. It slackened at once and slithered down Aren’s body, pooling uselessly around the chair legs.

"There we go." His eyes gleamed with ugly anticipation as he looked her over from head to toe.

"Fucking hell, hurry up," the second guard muttered, rising from his crouch so quickly he nearly stumbled.

He stepped up behind the chair and reached out, fingers aggressively tangling into her hair to yank her head back, anxiety and excitement battling visibly across his face.

The first guard caught the look and grinned.

A sense of triumph settled over him as he raised the knife and pressed the flat of the blade against Aren’s bruised cheek.

The metal dragged lightly across her skin as he leaned closer, his breath hot and foul.

"Sit back and relax, Lady Ariana," he drawled. "We’ve got you."

"No."

The single word cut through the room like a knife.

Both men froze.

Aren’s eyes opened.

"I refuse to relax."

The first guard never had time to understand what had gone wrong.

Aren’s hand flashed upward. A sharp strike landed against his wrist with enough force to shatter bone.

The knife dropped from his grasp.

SCHWCK!

SCHLUCK.

’Hmm.’

’That was a lot of blood.’

’I must look like an absolute mess right now.’

’Hopefully I won’t scare them too badly when I go downstairs to deal with them.’

’How is this even possible?!’

’The sedative should have lasted another hour at least!’

’Those two bastards!’

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