The Princess and the Pauper (Arabella)

Chapter 1730

The tension was palpable as all eyes and weapons turned towards Sean and Steward, vengeful rage seething on behalf of Rain.

The building, an unfinished concrete skeleton without doors or windows, provided the perfect ambush point. Sean's crew, hidden

outside, sprang to life, their gunfire tearing through the silence. One by one, the villains dropped like flies, smoke filling the air.

Standing amidst the chaos, Sean exuded an aura of icy grief.

His sister.

That quirky little girl who meant the world to him gone because of these monsters!

"Sean, there's more noise upstairs - probably their accomplices. I'll take smen and handle it. You head to the car. The

explosives are set; once we're out, this place will blow."

"No one gets a free pass today," Sean's voice was laced with a bloodthirsty resolve. "Whatever they did to my sister, | want them

to pay back a hundredfold, a thousandfold."

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"Understood!" Steward had never seen Sean like this before.

Always cocky and arrogant, Sean was now enveloped in sorrow and rage.

"I'm going to find her."

Even if she was dead, disfigured, limbs severed, he would gather every piece of her and bring her home.

On the eighteenth floor.

Martha's men exchanged glances, plotting to shoot Arabella in the chaos.

But Arabella was no ordinary woman. Sensing the danger, she kicked a chair towards them with lightning speed.

The bullets only shattered the chair mid-air, and before the pieces hit the ground, Arabella had already sent another chair flying

towards them, knocking several heads with a thud. In a swift motion, she kicked again, seizing their guns and gaining the upper

hand.

The room erupted in chaos, the sounds of gunshots, breaking objects, and thugs collapsing filled the air.

Serena couldn't see clearly from where she was hiding, her view obstructed, leaving her only with the sight of Horace pummeling

Martha.

"Stop. That's enough." she murmured anxiously, not daring to raise her voice.

Even after days confined at home, she feared the walls had ears, that servants might overhear her.

Seizing a moment, Martha threw a handful of powder at Horace, who quickly shielded his face and staggered back. Martha pulled a

gun from beneath a fallen wooden table and fired several shots in Horace's direction.

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Horace moved extremely fast, dodging the bullets with ease.

Wiping blood from her lip, Martha aimed the gun at Horace and questioned, "How did you get free?"

The knots binding them were Doom's signature, impossible to escape without a blade.

Horace smirked, revealing a hidden razor blade sewn into the hem of his shirt. "Not that it matters now, but we've got blades sewn

into our clothes. With a thread, we were free."

Not just him, but Arabella had several blades hidden too.

Whether their hands were bound in front or behind, they could effortlessly access the blades and slice through the ropes.

Arabella had cup with this trick years ago. The stitching was inconspicuous, undetectable without close inspection, especially

in the thick fabric of winter clothing.

And it wasn't just blades - the button on his cuff hid a lifesaving pill crafted by Arabella. To an onlooker, it seemed he'd simply

rolled his sleeve for comfort, but only he knew its true potential, a secret weapon that could turn the tide when it mattered most.