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The Betrayed Princess's New Reign Novel Cover

The Betrayed Princess's New Reign

I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."
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Chapter 22

Elena Vitiello POV:

The massive firework shell tore through the air, leaving a blinding trail of extreme heat.

It flew straight at my head. I threw my body sideways. The burning sphere of chemicals grazed my cheek, the intense heat singeing the fine hairs on my skin.

It slammed into the metal railing right next to me with a deafening boom. The thick steel dented inward. A shower of burning sparks rained down over the stairs.

The crowd on the deck below erupted into screams of absolute terror.

My pupils shrank. My survival instinct took over. I tried to scramble backward up the stairs, but my stiletto heel slipped into the gap between the metal grates and jammed tight. I was pinned.

Down on the deck, Sofia stumbled backward, pretending the massive recoil of the tube was throwing her off balance. But her hands never let go of the barrel. She gripped it tighter, her muscles locking as she readjusted her aim.

The second shell shot out with a horrific roar.

It was aimed dead center at my chest. I violently twisted my torso to the right, ripping my shoe from my foot.

The flaming shell missed my heart, but it slammed brutally into my left shoulder.

The impact was like being hit by a speeding truck. I heard the sickening crack of my own bone. The kinetic force lifted me off my feet and threw me backward onto the hard metal stairs. Pain exploded through my nervous system, blinding me with white light.

But the physical impact wasn't the worst part.

The shower of high-temperature sparks settled onto my white silk dress. The fabric was completely soaked in high-proof Burgundy wine. Alcohol.

With a terrifying *whoosh*, the left side of my chest and shoulder erupted into a massive fireball.

"Ah!" I screamed, the agony tearing out of my throat. I thrashed wildly on the metal stairs, slapping at my burning shoulder, trying to smother the flames.

Down on the deck, Luca and Matteo froze in shock. The scene was pure chaos.

Luca finally moved. But his first reaction wasn't to run up the stairs to save the woman burning alive. He spun around and grabbed Sofia, who had dropped the smoking tube and fallen backward.

Luca frantically checked her arms. "Are you hurt from the recoil?!" he yelled over the screaming crowd.

Through the roaring orange flames, my eyes locked onto Luca holding her. The searing agony of my flesh burning and the final, absolute severing of my soul happened in the exact same fraction of a second.

The fire chewed into my skin. The sickening, sweet smell of burning protein filled my nose.

Two men in dark suits broke out of the panicked crowd. They were Dante's New York shadows. They ripped off their heavy, custom-tailored jackets and threw themselves up the stairs.

They slammed the heavy fabric over my burning shoulder, pressing down hard to starve the fire of oxygen. But the alcohol had soaked deep into the silk. The flames were too fierce, licking around the edges of the jackets.

The pain was melting my brain. I was seconds away from losing consciousness. I knew if I passed out here, I would burn to death.

I bit down on my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. The pain gave me one final surge of adrenaline.

I shoved the two shadows away with my good arm. I dragged myself to the edge of the stairs. Wrapped in flames, I pushed off the metal railing and threw my body over the side of the yacht.

I fell through the dark air like a dying meteor.

I hit the freezing black surface of Lake Michigan with a massive splash.

The icy water instantly swallowed the fire. The extreme temperature change hit my burned skin like a million microscopic needles tearing into my nerves. My lungs seized. The agony was so absolute I couldn't even scream underwater.

I opened my eyes. The dark water stung. Above me, the lights of the yacht looked warped and distant.

Up on the deck, the sound of the splash finally snapped Luca's brain into reality. He shoved Sofia away, his eyes wide with horror, and sprinted to the railing.

He stared down at the black water. "Elena!" Luca roared. It was the desperate, guttural sound of a dying animal.

He put his hands on the railing, preparing to vault over and dive in.

The lead New York shadow stepped up behind him and delivered a brutal, crushing punch to the side of Luca's jaw. Luca's head snapped back, and he crumpled to the deck, unconscious.

The shadow didn't pause. He dove over the railing, plunging into the dark water after me.

Behind the chaos, Sofia stood up slowly. She looked over the edge, a wicked, satisfied sneer curling her lips. Then, she let her eyes roll back and collapsed to the floor, faking a dead faint.

I felt my body sinking deeper into the freezing abyss. My vision went black. The last thing that flashed through my fading mind was the low, magnetic voice from the satellite phone.

The pain swallowed me entirely.

Then, out of the darkness, a steady, rhythmic sound slowly pierced my ears. *Beep... beep... beep...*

The sharp, chemical stench of medical disinfectant burned my nose.

The sound of the heart monitor stabilized. Elena's dry, cracked lips trembled slightly as she let out a hoarse whisper: "Don't... touch me."

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