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The Betrayed Princess's New Reign Novel Cover

The Betrayed Princess's New Reign

Elena Vitiello was the Chicago Outfit’s princess, protected by Luca and Matteo. But when Sofia Ricci set her ablaze, her sworn guardians chose to comfort the attacker instead of saving her. Left with permanent scars and a shattered heart, Elena realizes their loyalty is dead. She flees to New York, seeking refuge with the lethal Capo Dante Moretti. Now, as her former protectors beg for mercy, Elena has only one command for them: burn.
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Chapter 50

Elena Vitiello POV:

"Sofia."

The grey van hit the plaza curb with a violent, metal-crunching slam. It didn't slow down. It launched into the air for a split second before slamming back onto the paving stones, acting like a missile fired directly at me.

Through the shattered windshield, I saw Sofia. Her burned, centipede-like scar stretched tight as she mashed the accelerator to the floor. She was laughing—a wide, manic, soundless scream of pure insanity.

She wasn't afraid of dying. The fear had been entirely consumed by her hatred for me.

My guards reacted instantly. A barrage of gunfire erupted.

Bullets shattered the van's windshield, spider-webbing the glass into a million pieces. I saw a red mist spray inside the cabin as a bullet tore through Sofia’s shoulder.

She didn't even flinch. Her foot stayed pinned to the gas pedal.

I stood frozen on the steps, my brain calculating the distance and speed. She was going to hit the stairs.

In a fraction of a second, Dante’s chief driver inside the Rolls Royce slammed his foot on the gas and cranked the steering wheel hard.

The massive, heavily armored luxury car lurched forward. The tires shrieked against the stone. With a flawless, aggressive drift, the Rolls Royce slid sideways, parking parallel right at the base of the stairs.

It formed an impenetrable wall of military-grade steel between me and the incoming van.

Sofia saw the black wall of the Rolls Royce block her path. Her eyes widened in absolute, furious despair.

She knew the physics. If she hit the armored Rolls Royce, her cheap van would crumple like an aluminum can, and I wouldn't even feel the vibration.

In that split second of realization, her manic eyes darted to the right.

She saw Luca and Matteo.

They were still lying in the freezing mud, exactly where the water cannon had blasted them.

I saw the exact moment Sofia’s hatred pivoted. Luca had used her, abandoned her, and thrown her to the wolves in Chicago. If she couldn't kill me, she was going to drag the men who ruined her straight to hell.

Sofia yanked the steering wheel violently to the right.

The van’s bald tires lost all traction on the wet, mud-slicked stones. The heavy vehicle went into a massive, uncontrolled slide, its trajectory shifting directly toward the two men on the ground.

Luca lay paralyzed in the mud. He looked up. His eyes bulged out of his skull as the massive grill of the van filled his vision.

He tried to scramble backward, but his broken ribs made his body completely useless. He just lay there, screaming soundlessly.

Matteo dug his fingernails into the cracks of the paving stones, trying to drag his one-legged body out of the way.

It was too late.

The van’s front bumper slammed into Matteo’s back first.

A sickening, wet *crunch* echoed over the roar of the engine. Matteo was instantly sucked underneath the chassis, his body rolling beneath the spinning tires.

A millisecond later, the center of the grill struck Luca.

The impact launched Luca’s body into the air like a broken ragdoll. He flew backward, his head slamming with a horrific, hollow *thud* against the sharp edge of the stone steps.

The van rolled over Matteo’s legs and completely lost control.

It veered sharply and plowed headfirst into the massive, solid stone pillar in the center of the plaza.

The impact was catastrophic. The van’s engine block folded inward, metal shrieking and tearing. A shower of bright orange sparks erupted from the crushed hood.

The sheer kinetic force ejected Sofia through the remaining shards of the windshield. Her body slammed into the stone pillar and dropped to the ground like a sack of wet cement.

Inside the crushed cabin, the violent impact triggered the crude blasting caps taped to the steering wheel.

A blinding, white-hot flash of light erupted from the center of the van.

Then came the boom.

A massive fireball expanded outward, vaporizing the rain and mud. A shockwave of pure force ripped through the plaza, tearing streetlamps from their bolts and turning the crushed rose petals into burning shrapnel.

Before the heat could even touch my face, my guard captain tackled me hard to the stone floor, pinning me safely behind the thick steel chassis of the Rolls Royce.

The deafening roar stripped away all hearing, the world burning in fire.

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