Reborn: I Won't Be His Fall Girl Again

In my past life, I walked away from an invitation to the elite Academy just to take the fall for Luca.

He held my hand, swearing he’d get me out.

Swearing he’d keep me safe for the rest of my life.

Instead, I rotted in a cell until I died.

While I was bleeding out on the cold floor, Luca was marrying the Don’s daughter, living the high life.

When I opened my eyes, I was back.

Luca was sixteen again, face pale as a sheet, shoving a bloody gun into my hands.

"Elena, you're a lifesaver."

I slapped the piece away.

"Dream on. I ain't taking the rap for you this time."

Ten years in a federal pen, and that’s where my life ended.

I slumped onto the cold concrete.

The chill seeped through the shank wound in my gut, settling deep in my bones. Blood pooled around me like rainwater.

Before I faded, I looked at the TV mounted on the wall.

The news anchor was announcing Luca as the new Don.

At the same time, he was holding a grand engagement party downtown with the former Don's only daughter.

Luca stood there in a custom Italian suit, fingers interlocked with his bride-to-be, Sofia. He was smiling like he owned the world.

"For the honor of the Family," he said on the screen.

Everyone was fawning over him. A subordinate rushed up and whispered something in his ear.

He frowned, waved the guy off, and patted the woman's hand.

"Don't worry, babe. Just a nobody. Dead is dead."

Suddenly, screams tore through the broadcast.

A woman covered in scars crashed through the security line.

She was pale, waving a gun, screaming my name like a maniac.

"Elena? Elena! Where is my daughter?"

I looked at her aged, familiar face...

Was that my mom? The one who went missing ten years ago?

Before I could look closer, everything went black.

"Elena!"

The voices overlapped.

I snapped my eyes open. Freezing rain hammered against my face.

No cold prison. No fatal knife wound.

Just sixteen-year-old Luca, standing pale in the shadows of the New York slums.

His hands were shaking as he shoved a still-warm Glock into my hands.

The handle was sticky. Someone else's blood.

"Elena, listen to me," Luca stammered, his eyes darting with calculation.

"If the cops take me, I’m finished. My life is over. Take the rap for me this time, and I swear on my life, I’ll protect you forever."

The same old lines.

In my last life, I gripped this gun, and it bought me ten years of hell and a violent death.

"Protect me?" I whispered.

Luca thought I agreed. A flash of joy crossed his eyes.

"Yes! I’m the chosen one. I can’t have a record. Hurry, the cops are coming!"

I looked at his pretty face and laughed.

Click.

I dropped the mag, tossing it and the gun separately into the filth of the sewer.

"No!" Luca lunged, trying to fish out the evidence. "What are you doing! Are you crazy?"

I took a step back, letting the rain wash the prints off my hands.

"That body is on you, Luca. You dig the hole."

I turned and walked into the downpour, leaving him screaming curses behind me.

When I got back to the moldy apartment I lived in back then, Tony was at the card table counting coins.

The whole place stank of his cheap cigars.

When he saw my empty hands, his face turned purple.

"Where’s Luca? Did you handle it?" He blew a smoke ring. "Where’s the hush money that kid promised me?"

"I didn't help him," I said coldly. "I want to live."

Tony froze for a second, then exploded.

He grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall and swung it at my head.

"Ungrateful little bitch!"

I sidestepped. The bat smashed into the rot-wood table, sending splinters flying.

A second later, my dagger was buried in the wood, right in front of his face.

Tony went stiff.

"I'm entering the selection for the Academy," I stared him down. "Stay out of my way."

Tony stared at the vibrating knife handle, then grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. It was disgusting.

"A gutter rat like you thinks she can make the Academy?"

He shoved the cigar back in his mouth, looking at me like I was merchandise.

"Save it. Since you won't help Luca, get ready. The butcher down the street—the forty-five-year-old? He likes you. What he's paying for you covers my gambling debt for the week."

I ignored him and walked out the door.