Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

Nazario merely shrugged, looking almost bored.

"You’ve only got yourself and that simple little mind of yours to blame, brother. You’re so damn predictable."

He stepped closer, his head tilting with amusement.

"All I had to do was have a few men follow you, and sooner or later I’d find out what you were cooking up. Sneaking in and out of the maintenance room, hmm? It wasn’t exactly subtle."

The words ignited Oscar’s temper instantly.

"You shameless bastard!"

With a furious roar, he launched himself at Nazario, his fist cocked back.

"You don’t get to lecture me like you’re not planning something even dirtier than I am!"

The surrounding guards gasped.

Several instinctively moved to intervene, but none of them were fast enough.

Oscar’s fist tore through the air with every ounce of fury he possessed, aimed squarely at Nazario’s face.

Nazario never moved.

Not until the very last instant.

Just before the punch connected, he tilted his head a fraction to the side, allowing Oscar’s fist to slice harmlessly past his cheek.

Then he struck.

THWACK!

His fist buried itself deep into the center of Oscar’s ribs.

"Hurgh—!"

The impact was sickening. It felt less like being punched and more like being rammed by a speeding vehicle.

Oscar felt something inside him crack. His lungs emptied violently, and a spray of blood burst from his mouth before he could even draw another breath.

Before he could even process the agony—

Another punch came.

THWACK!

This one slammed straight into the opposite side of his ribcage with enough force to fold him in half.

Several nearby guards visibly flinched.

Oscar’s six companions stared in frozen horror.

Nazario’s movements were terrifyingly economical — light, precise, almost effortless. Yet each blow landed with such brutal efficiency that they resembled surgical executions rather than punches exchanged between brothers.

Oscar collapsed to both knees, his arms instinctively wrapping around his shattered ribs as ragged gasps tore from his throat.

He lasted barely another second before the agony overwhelmed him completely.

His body pitched forward.

He crashed face-first at Nazario’s feet.

"Mister Oscar!"

"Oscar!"

His companions surged toward him, but before they could reach him, Nazario lazily swung out one leg.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

The kicks were not merely meant to stop them. Each landed with enough force to leave them doubled over in agony, ending any thought of charging him again.

The men stumbled backward, clutching their stomachs as pain stole the strength from their legs.

Oscar lay sprawled across the floor, barely able to breathe. Blood stained the corner of his mouth as he slowly lifted his head with immense effort, glaring up at his brother with equal measures of hatred and disbelief.

"You... N-Nazario... how could you..."

He coughed, another trickle of blood spilling over his lips.

"H-how could you hit me that hard...?"

Despite the agony wracking his body, his voice suddenly rose.

"How could you do that to Jordan?! To your own family?!"

Nazario looked down at him as though observing an insect pinned beneath his shoe.

"Oh?"

Without the slightest trace of emotion, he nudged Oscar over with the tip of his shoe until the younger man lay flat on his back.

"What are you talking about? You’re the one who attacked me first."

He crouched just enough for Oscar to see the complete indifference in his eyes.

"Besides... haven’t you realized by now? There has never been such a thing as family among Marchettis."

Silence settled over the tunnel.

None of the guards dared speak.

None dared interfere.

Satisfied with the first victory of the day, Nazario straightened and flicked a lazy hand toward the surrounding guards.

"Take him. Lock him and these idiots up for now. Father can decide what to do with them after the competition."

His eyes then swept slowly across every guard present.

"And until then... keep your mouths shut. I don’t want a single word of this reaching anyone beyond the people standing here."

The guards stiffened instantly beneath the weight of his gaze.

"Yes, sir!"

"Understood, Mister Nazario!"

Without another word, they hurried forward and hauled Oscar and the six battered men to their feet.

Oscar struggled wildly despite the agony lancing through his ribs, clinging desperately to one last chance.

"No! You’ve got the wrong man! You should be arresting him!"

He twisted violently against the soldiers restraining him, but the effort was hopeless.

"He’s going to hurt Jordan! He’s going to kill the Lombardi heiress inside the maze! Let me go! Let me go!"

No one dared release him.

He was dragged away, kicking and throwing useless punches into the air.

Nazario watched the entire scene with languid amusement, slowly shaking his head.

"So stubborn. And just as stupid as ever, my little brother."

Only after the last guard disappeared around the corner did another pair of footsteps echo through the passage.

Nazario didn’t even bother turning around immediately.

Natalia Porto emerged from the opposite tunnel, her measured stride unhurried, every inch of her immaculate despite the grimy underground surroundings.

She stopped several paces away and regarded the now-empty corridor where Oscar had vanished with detached indifference.

"You could have simply neutralized him," she said coolly. "He’s just a boy who didn’t know any better."

Nazario let out a yawn, barely bothering to cover it.

"I could have." His lips twitched upward. "But I could also teach him a lesson. Might as well let him learn who’s superior while he’s still young. Eventually, he’ll become a thorn in my side anyway."

Natalia offered no response. She had no interest whatsoever in Nazario’s ambitions.

’Whatever you say, Nazario. Eventually Jordan will become Don, not you.’

’Enjoy your triumph while you still can.’

Burying the thought behind a perfectly composed expression, she asked evenly,

"So? Have you made your decision? Are you going to help me kill Ariana Lombardi or not?"

Nazario finally turned to her, offering an almost apologetic smile.

"Sorry, sis. I’m not getting on that ship with you. You can tell those capos to say only half as many nice things about me."

Natalia’s eyes narrowed.

"Why not? It’ll be completely dark. No one would ever know."

"Well... what can I say?" He scratched idly behind one ear. "I suppose I’m more or less like you. I prefer achieving my goals with zero risk, so I’d rather keep my record spotless in Father’s eyes."

Natalia fell silent. Her face remained perfectly composed, but irritation simmered beneath the surface.

Nazario noticed it anyway.

The corner of his mouth lifted another fraction.

"Though... perhaps you wouldn’t have to worry too much. I’ve heard something quite interesting recently."

Turning away, he began strolling leisurely down the tunnel, one hand lifting in a lazy farewell over his shoulder.

"I’m fairly certain there’s someone entering the maze with me... who wants Ariana Lombardi dead even more than you do."

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