Reborn To Ruin: The Mafia Queen's Revenge
I spent twenty-one years trying to be the perfect Mafia Princess, treating my illegitimate sister, Mia, with nothing but grace.
That kindness is exactly what got me killed.
My husband, Luca, didn't take me on a honeymoon. He dragged me into the soundproof basement of our estate.
Mia was there, too. Not to help me, but to gloat.
She laughed as she admitted to poisoning our mother with arsenic, watching with glee as Luca brought a serrated knife to my chest.
"You were always too soft, Sera," he sneered, carving through my skin while I begged for mercy.
I died in that cold, dark room, choking on my own blood and the bitter taste of betrayal.
But I didn't stay dead.
I woke up gasping for air, clutching a chest that was smooth and unscarred.
The calendar on my nightstand read May 12, 2018.
It was five years ago. The very morning I was scheduled to sign the marriage contract that would seal my fate.
I looked at the paper on the vanity.
In my last life, I signed it with a trembling hand.
This time, I flicked open my silver Zippo and watched the flames eat Luca's name.
I didn't pack a dress. I packed a pistol and a stack of cash.
I was going to Las Vegas.
There was only one man dangerous enough to help me destroy the New York families.
I walked into the underground fight club, locked eyes with the deadliest man in the room, and smiled.
"Dante Cavallaro," I said.
"I'm here to make you a King."
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Chapter 3
Sera POV
The desert highway was a long, black ribbon stretching into unforgiving nothingness. The heat shimmered off the asphalt, creating mirages that distorted the horizon.
I sat in the passenger seat of Dante's armored SUV. He was driving, one hand casual on the wheel, the other resting on the center console inches from his gun.
We had been working together for three months. In that time, we had seized three rival casinos and dismantled a human trafficking ring that had dared to set up shop on his turf.
He still didn't trust me completely. But he wanted me. I could feel it in the way his eyes tracked me when I walked across a room, in the way he stood just a little too close, his presence a heavy, magnetic weight.
"You're quiet today," Dante said, his voice breaking the silence.
"I'm thinking," I replied.
"About what?"
"About the sniper."
Dante frowned, glancing sideways at me. "What sniper?"
In my past life, I had read the police report until the words were burned into my retinas. *Dante Cavallaro, assassinated on Route 15, three miles past the border.* A single shot to the head. It was the event that had thrown the West Coast families into chaos and allowed Luca to expand his power.
"Pull over," I said, my voice tight.
Dante didn't slow down. "We are late for the meeting with the Cartel, Sera. Stop playing games."
"I'm not playing!" I shouted. "Pull over now!"
When he didn't react fast enough, I reached for the wheel. Dante cursed viciously and slammed on the brakes. The heavy SUV skidded to a halt on the gravel shoulder, dust billowing up around us like a suffocating cloud.
"Are you insane?" he growled, turning to face me. His face was twisted in furious disbelief.
"Get down!" I screamed.
I didn't wait for him to react. I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw myself across the center console, tackling him. My body covered his, pressing him hard against the driver's side door.
The glass shattered an instant later.
A sound like a thunderclap tore through the air. I felt a hot, searing pain explode in my left shoulder. The impact threw me harder against Dante.
Another shot pinged off the armored frame of the car.
Dante moved instantly. He shoved me down into the footwell, his body covering mine now, a human shield. He had his gun out before I could even process the pain.
"Stay down," he ordered. His voice was ice cold.
He kicked the door open and rolled out onto the asphalt. I heard three rapid shots. Then silence.
I clutched my shoulder. Blood was seeping through my white blouse, warm and sticky against my fingers.
Dante appeared in the open doorway a moment later. He looked at the blood on my hands. His face went pale, a look of genuine horror that I had never seen on him before.
"You took a bullet," he said. It wasn't a question; it was a devastating realization.
"I told you," I grit out, fighting the dizziness. "I told you about the sniper."
He reached in and pulled me out of the car, lifting me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. He didn't look at the dead assassin on the ridge. He only looked at me.
"Why?" he asked, his voice rough. "Why did you do that?"
"Because," I gasped, the pain starting to make the world swim. "I need you alive, Dante. We have an empire to build."
He pressed his forehead against mine. His skin was burning feverishly.
"You are mine, Sera," he growled against my skin, the words vibrating through me. "You hear me? You don't die. You don't leave. You belong to me now."
I smiled weakly before the darkness took me.
I knew. That was the plan all along.