30. The beginning of the end.

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Arabella was humming to the tune that played through her earphones. She was on her way to the gym, she had just gotten done at school and much to her surprise, she didn't see Giovanni there.

They also haven't spoken since he dropped her off at work. He didn't call her to say good night like he usually did, nor did he reply to her last text message.

She wondered if she might have done something wrong, so during the time she should've been asleep, the girl was staring up at her ceiling, trying to remember everything about their trip to London and trying to figure out what she could've done to make him shut her out completely.


But for now, the girl shoved Giovanni to the back of her head. She made her way inside the gym and jumped right into working out. Her earphones blared with music and she focused on finishing her reps, planking until she felt light-headed.


The sun was just starting to set in the city. It casted the buildings in a warm orange hue, purple colours shining through too. Winter was over and it was Summer now, although it didn't feel much like it in Birmingham. She still saw people wear coats and scarfs and thick, Winter boots.


Passing by her favourite coffee shop, Arabella had to fight the urge to walk in and treat herself. She walked past it with a hurting heart, promising herself she'd get one tomorrow.

Arabella hadn't noticed Rafael for the entire day. She payed extra attention to every car, but she didn't see him. Maybe Giovanni gave him new orders, maybe Gio didn't care about her as much as he said he did.


As Arabella rounded the corner, she spotted a black van a few feet from her apartment building. She thought nothing of it, making her way past it.

But when three masked men jumped from the car, Arabella lost all of her commons sense. She froze, her lips parted as they lurged for her. Only when their hands connected with her arms did she let out a throaty scream, trying to pull her arms from their hands.

Panic like no other filled her veins and the girl dropped everything she carried as she punched and kicked and screamed, but it was useless. They had her by her hair and her arms and they roughly tugged her, throwing her head first into the van.

Another scream passed through her as two of them jumped in behind her and then the van started, and she felt how they drove onto the street. Eyes wide and burning with tears, she used every bit of strength she had. She felt how she punched one straight in his jaw and then he got mad, she guessed, because he tugged her head back by her roots and then bone of her eyebrow connected with a sharp edge, and she let out a sob, clutching her now bleeding face.

"Non farmi del male, cagna,"
[Don't make me hurt you, bitch]

She sobbed silently into her palms, tasting blood. She wiped off her eyebrow on the back of her hand, her tears blurring her vision. Crimson water sunk into her pores, into her tongue.

"Gesù, ma una fottuta borsa sopra la sua testa,"
[Jesus, put a fucking bag over her head.]

"No, please," She begged, watching as the one man moved closer to her, a black pillow case slipping over her face, blinding her. Fear made her stop crying, and now she sat still, not moving an inch as tears freely flowed down her face. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head onto her forearms, being held up by her folded knees.

It felt like they had been driving for hours. Arabella's brain searched for ideas to get her out of this situation, but every idea had a terrible ending. It's either they shot her, or caught onto her and then shot her, or she didn't get far enough to actually run.

So, she waited.


After a while, the van rolled to a stop and Italian orders spilled from the men's mouths.

Anxiety bubbled in her veins again. It flooded her brain and made her shake violently, her hands growing stiff as she wrung them together.

They grabbed onto her biceps and lifted her up, pulling her out of the van. Tears started down her cheeks again and she stubble as they pulled her from the edge of the man, gasping as her feet collided with hard cement.


They roughly tugged her forward, and as she walked she heard loud Italian chatter, making her grow even more scared.

Then, she was pressed down and she collided with a chair. They didn't wats a second in tying her hands behind her back, her feet to the legs of the chair. Then, they pulled the darkness from her and she squinted, blinking to get her eyes used to the light.

She noticed a few men standing around her, all big and all tanned, all Italian. There was an older man though, he was shorter and had a completely grey head of hair and on his top lip was a grey mustache.

"Welcome, Arabella!" He announced, a faint smile behind his mustache. She sniffed, looking up at him as a few stray tears rolled down her cheeks.

"W-What do you want with me?"

The mustache tilted up then as the man smiled. "Firstly, I'll get to that later. Secondly, my name is Frederico Armani.,"

Arabella's mouth fell open.

Giovanni's dad was dead?

"You're dead," She whispered. The man let out a guffaw of laughter, "Oh, my dear. You mustn't believe everything my son tells you, yes? He is his father's son, after all,"

"Now, we need you to do something for us,"


"Fuck me," Arabella said, shaking her head, "I'm bait, aren't I? You want me to call him so he can come here and you can fucking kill him, right?"

"Well, to put it simply. Yes, exactly that,"

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