Reborn To Ruin My Traitorous Ex-Fiancé

Consciousness snapped back violently.

A heavy, suffocating weight crushed Sera's chest, restricting her breathing to shallow, panicked gasps. The pungent, sickening smell of cheap cologne mixed with stale alcohol invaded her nasal passages. It triggered an immediate, violent wave of nausea deep in her stomach.

She forced her eyes open. The harsh yellow light of a hotel bedside lamp burned her retinas.

Hollywood director Lars Donovan's flushed, sweaty face hovered mere inches from hers. His hot breath fanned across her cheek.

For a fraction of a second, Sera's brain misfired. The soft mattress beneath her vanished. Instead, the phantom sensation of a freezing concrete floor seeped into her bones. She heard the rattle of heavy iron chains. She felt the absolute, bone-deep cold of the Eastern European warehouse where she had died.

The memory of her past life's horrific end flooded her nervous system. Her heart rate spiked to a lethal speed. Her fingers twitched.

Lars misinterpreted her sudden, rigid stillness as submission. A disgusting grin stretched across his wet lips. He shifted his bulk, his thick fingers eagerly reaching down to tear the delicate neckline of her silk dress.

Pure survival instinct overrode the residual trauma. A massive spike of adrenaline flooded Sera's veins, burning away the fog of the date-rape drug. The drug still clung to her limbs like lead, threatening to drag her back into unconsciousness, but years of brutal, unforgiving training had carved these defensive movements into her very soul. It allowed her muscle memory to operate with lethal efficiency even when her conscious mind was clouded and heavy.

She didn't scream. She didn't cry.

Sera shifted her hips slightly to the left, digging her shoulder blades into the mattress to gain solid leverage.

With lethal, practiced precision, she drove her right knee violently upward. The strike connected with Lars's groin with maximum, bone-jarring force.

Lars gasped sharply. The sound was a pathetic, wet wheeze. His eyes bulged out of their sockets as all the air left his lungs. He rolled off her instantly, clutching his stomach as sudden, blinding agony paralyzed him.

Sera didn't waste a millisecond. She rolled to the opposite side of the bed. Her muscle memory executed a flawless tactical recovery. She was on her feet before Lars even hit the floor, despite the heavy drugs still sluggishly pumping through her bloodstream.

Humiliation and rage twisted Lars's red face. He snarled like a wounded animal. He lunged forward blindly, his thick hand grabbing her left ankle in a desperate attempt to drag her back down to the carpet.

Sera pivoted her weight. She raised her right foot and drove the sharp, steel-reinforced heel of her stiletto directly down into the center of his reaching wrist.

A loud, sickening crack echoed in the quiet hotel room.

Lars screamed. It was a high-pitched, excruciating sound. He ripped his hand back, cradling his shattered wrist against his chest.

"You crazy bitch!" he howled, spit flying from his lips. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Sera didn't answer. Her eyes were dead, completely devoid of human empathy. She scanned the room tactically. Her gaze locked onto a heavy, solid crystal ashtray sitting on the mahogany nightstand. She grabbed it, her fingers wrapping tightly around the thick glass, assessing its weight.

Lars tried to stand. He raised his uninjured left hand, swinging wildly toward her face in a blind rage.

Sera easily ducked under his clumsy, telegraphed swing. She brought the heavy crystal ashtray down in a brutal, sweeping arc. The solid glass connected with the side of his skull with a dull, heavy thud.

Lars's eyes rolled back into his head. He collapsed face-first onto the plush carpet. Dark red blood immediately began pooling from a severe laceration above his ear, staining the expensive fibers.

He lay there, groaning, half-conscious in a daze of pain and fear.

"Ethan..." Lars whimpered pitifully into the carpet, his brain misfiring. "Ethan promised... he said you'd be compliant..."

The verbal confirmation hit Sera like a physical blow to the sternum.

Ethan Vance. Her fiancé.

It validated her darkest, most horrific memories from the freezing warehouse. Ethan had set her up. He had sold her out.

The initial panic completely vanished from Sera's chest. It was instantly replaced by a cold, calculating fury. The temperature in her veins seemed to drop to absolute zero. Her demeanor transformed into terrifying ice.

She walked over to Lars. She raised her stiletto and stepped hard on his broken wrist one last time.

Lars let out a muffled shriek and passed out completely. He was neutralized. He couldn't follow her. He couldn't reach for his phone.

Sera dropped the bloody ashtray. She grabbed the torn fabric of her silk dress, pulling it tightly across her chest. She tied it into a harsh knot over her exposed shoulder, securing her dignity.

She turned and stumbled toward the heavy hotel room door. The adrenaline was fading. The residual drugs in her system surged back with a vengeance. Her vision swam dangerously. The room tilted on a violent axis.

Her trembling hands fumbled with the cold brass deadbolt. Her motor skills were rapidly deteriorating. She forced her numb fingers to grip the metal, twisting it with the last ounce of her strength.

The lock finally clicked open.

Sera threw her entire body weight against the heavy wood. She stumbled out of Room 402 and into the hallway.

The harsh, bright fluorescent lights of the corridor blinded her. The severe vertigo intensified, making the patterned carpet spin beneath her feet.

Down the hall, the distinct sound of heavy footsteps approached from the elevator bank.

Paranoia spiked in her chest. She couldn't be found here. Not like this.

She attempted to run toward the illuminated red fire exit sign at the end of the hall. She took two steps before her legs finally gave out completely. Her knees buckled.

She fell forward into the empty space.

But she didn't hit the floor.

A pair of strong, perfectly tailored arms caught her mid-fall. The sudden impact knocked the remaining breath from her lungs. She was instantly enveloped in the clean, sharp scent of cedar and mint, completely erasing the stench of Lars's cheap cologne.