The Princess and the Pauper (Arabella) novel Chapter 1867

"Sure thing." Arabella nodded in agreement on the surface, but not long after Sean had left the room, she had a switchblade pressed against one of the hitman's throats.

The hitman was tough as nails; not even glancing at Arabella, he said with eyes closed, "Do it."

He was a prisoner at her mercy, yet there was no begging for his life. To be killed or slashed, he left his fate in her hands.

With a quick swipe of her blade, the hitman's throat gushed with blood.

The other hitmen were clearly startled; they hadn't expected her to actually go through with it.

"I'm only asking once. Who's pulling your strings?" Arabella didn't finish him off with that cut, but nicked him to draw blood, yet it was enough to terrify the others.

Some of the hitmen thought about taking their own lives, but Chasel, sharp as ever, caught on quickly and crushed that hope.

"As you guys fell into our hands, you've got only one way out, and that's a fate worse than death," Chasel said with a cold voice which was devoid of any emotion. "Answer my sister's question. Who sent you?"

Seeing that they remained silent, Arabella flashed her blade to streak across the throats of three more hitmen, with a demeanor as cold as a heartless she-devil.

The remaining hitmen couldn't believe this young girl was so ruthlessly formidable, even colder than them.

Finally, the fourth hitman couldn't take it anymore and spilled, "No one sent us. We acted on our own, trying to save our boss Erik. That's all we know."

Arabella clearly didn't buy his story, and her knife moved towards him again.

She was a medical student, so she knew just how much it would take before causing a fatality. Hans had noticed this too—his sister wasn't out for their lives, but to scare them into giving up an answer.