The Scumbag's Regret: My Lethal Comeback

A violent wave of nausea hit Karina the moment she opened her eyes.

The glaring overhead lights of the Los Angeles film set stabbed into her retinas. Her brain throbbed as if someone had driven a rusty nail through her skull, flooding her mind with memories that didn't belong to her. What is this place? Am I dead? No... this body, this light... this is real. She squinted, her vision blurry, her stomach twisting into a tight, painful knot.

Before she could even process the sheer insanity of her situation, a sharp rush of wind sliced toward her right cheek.

Candice Meadows, the lead actress, had gone entirely off-script. Malice flashed in Candice's eyes as she swung her arm with full force, aiming a vicious slap right at Karina's face.

Around them, the crew sucked in collective, shocked breaths. Behind the monitor, director Arthur Vance's eyes widened in horror, but his mouth couldn't form the word "Cut" fast enough.

In that split second, muscle memory forged in the blood-soaked dirt of a war zone took over.

Karina didn't flinch. She didn't cower. Her left hand shot up with a speed that defied human reflexes.

Smack.

A dull, heavy thud echoed across the set. Karina's fingers clamped around Candice's delicate wrist like a steel vice, stopping the slap dead in mid-air. The sheer force of the impact seemed to suck the oxygen right out of the room.

Pain shot up Candice's arm. Her bones ground together under the crushing grip. Her eyes bulged in disbelief as she tried to yank her hand back, but it was like trying to pull her arm out of an industrial hydraulic press. Karina didn't budge an inch.

Slowly, Karina lifted her gaze.

The timid, pathetic look that usually occupied this body's eyes was gone. In its place was a stare as cold as a morgue slab. It was the look of someone who had crawled out of a mountain of corpses. Pure, unadulterated intent to kill.

Meeting that horrifying gaze, Candice's heart violently contracted. Her knees gave out, trembling uncontrollably. The lines she had prepared to humiliate Karina died in her throat.

Dead silence fell over the set. The only sound was Candice's heavy, terrified panting being picked up by the boom mics.

Arthur leaped up from his director's chair. He stared at the monitor, his hands shaking with pure adrenaline as he looked at Karina's face-a perfect blend of overwhelming dominance and shattered beauty.

Karina tightened her grip just a fraction, watching Candice's face contort in agony. A mocking, ice-cold smirk touched Karina's lips.

Then, she flicked her wrist.

The momentum sent Candice stumbling backward. Her expensive stiletto heel snapped. She crashed hard onto the dusty plywood floor of the set, a pathetic heap of designer fabric and bruised ego.

Candice's assistant shrieked and rushed forward to help her up. The fall snapped Candice out of her paralyzed fear. Tears of humiliation spilled down her cheeks.

"She assaulted me!" Candice screamed, pointing a trembling finger at Karina. "She did that on purpose!"

Karina looked down at her. She looked at Candice the exact same way she would look at a harmless, rotting corpse. Without a single word, Karina casually dusted off her hands.

Arthur finally found his voice. "Cut! Perfect! That was a textbook reversal!" he yelled, his voice cracking with ecstasy.

The crew exchanged stunned looks before a scattered, hesitant applause broke out. The disgust they usually reserved for Karina, the D-list 'vase', morphed into a stunned confusion. The disgust was still there, but now it was mixed with a healthy dose of shock, and perhaps, a sliver of fear.

Hearing the director's praise, Candice's fake tears froze. Jealousy twisted her perfectly contoured face into something ugly, but she bit her lip so hard it almost bled, forcing herself to stay quiet.

Karina ignored the applause. She ignored the director. Right now, her stomach felt like it was digesting itself. The starvation from the war zone carried over into this weak body, screaming for high-calorie food.

She turned her back on Candice and started walking toward the craft service area at the edge of the set. Her steps were loose, lazy, yet carried a dangerous rhythm.

A grip guy watched her approach and instinctively swallowed hard. He stepped aside, and the rest of the crew followed, parting like the Red Sea to give her a wide path.

Arthur watched her walk away, rubbing his hands together greedily. He snapped his fingers at the cameraman. "Save that clip. Lock it down right now."

Candice shoved her assistant away and scrambled to her feet. She glared at Karina's retreating back, her eyes burning with toxic calculation.

Karina reached the edge of the rest area. Suddenly, the atrocious physical condition of this original body caught up with her. A massive wave of hypoglycemic dizziness slammed into her brain. Her vision went black at the edges, and her foot caught on a cable.

She reached out blindly, her hand slapping against a cold metal prop rack. The freezing metal grounded her slightly, but a layer of cold sweat had already broken out on her forehead.

Just then, the heavy soundproof doors of the soundstage swung open.

A tall, broad-shouldered man walked in, surrounded by a wall of bodyguards. He brought a freezing, untouchable aura into the room with him.

Karina's vision was swimming. All she saw was a massive dark shadow moving toward her. She tried to plant her feet, but her weak legs betrayed her, sending her pitching forward.

Thud.

Her forehead slammed hard into a solid chest that smelled faintly of cold cedarwood. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and she let out a low, pained grunt.

The man stopped dead in his tracks. He looked down at the woman who had just thrown herself into his arms. His perfectly sculpted brows pulled together, a flash of deep irritation crossing his features.

Julian Thorne, the man's agent, immediately lunged forward. He grabbed Karina's arm to yank her away.

"Watch yourself," Julian hissed sharply.

The pull helped Karina find her balance. She rubbed her red forehead and looked up, meeting a pair of deep, freezing amber eyes.