Reborn To Win Their Bloody Bet

I slowly lowered my hand, and for the first time since I’d woken up reborn, tears spilled down my cheeks.

In my past life, the second my family found out I’d been cast aside by New York’s two most powerful Cosa Nostra dons, Vincent and Nick, they locked me out.

Terrified of ruining their cushy life by crossing the two men, they shoved me on a Greyhound bound for a dead-end upstate town, left me there to die, and turned a blind eye when the hitmen came for me.

I still remembered my father and grandmother clasping my hands before I’d left for Vincent’s penthouse, promising, “Leah, if they ever hurt you, come home.”

Now I was home, and they wouldn’t even open the door.

I stayed there to sear this betrayal into my soul, and swear to never trust anyone again.

Maybe they heard me crying in the snow.

The door finally swung open.

My father stood there, face cold with rage. “Do you know what trouble you’ve brought us? The dons have turned on us because of you! Why can’t you just die, instead of ruining your siblings?” His words were a knife to the chest.

Behind him, my younger sister stared at me, her eyes bright with malicious glee.

My grandmother took my hand, voice sweet but eyes cold.

“Leah, we’ll send you upstate, tell everyone you ran away. This will all be over.”

My chest went ice cold.

It wasn’t just the dons who wanted me dead.

It was the family I’d spent my life protecting.

In the end, I boarded that Greyhound, my only possession a small silver dagger my mother had left me, my only protection.

Just like last time, I was dropped at an isolated motel, where the owner, paid off by my father, locked me in a back room.

“You really thought you’d get out of this alive? Cross the Luciano and Valentino families, and you’re a dead girl walking. Your family never intended for you to leave this room breathing.”

The exact same words I’d heard a lifetime ago.

I stared at the floor, my fingers curled tight around the dagger hidden in my sleeve.

He stepped toward me, a syringe full of heroin in his hand, reaching for my arm.

I curled my fingers around the dagger, ready to strike, when the door was kicked off its hinges.

But before the blade could connect, a gunshot rang out.

The bullet struck the wall beside us, startling both the motel keeper and me.

A woman stood in the doorway, a gun still raised in her hand.

Then she pointed the gun straight at the motel owner and said.

"Fuck off."

The motel owner recognized her face instantly, and went scrambling to flee in a blind panic.

“I’ve heard your tiramisu is the best in all of New York. Would you be interested in coming to my estate in Chicago, to be my personal pastry chef?”

It was only when I finally made out her face clearly.

Seraphina Moretti.

It was a face burned into my memory from my past life.

I stood there frozen, thrown completely off-kilter by this abrupt turn of events.

She saw me staring, and a flicker of pity crossed her face.

She tugged off her coat and draped it over my shoulders, its warmth wrapping around me and chasing away the bone-deep cold that had settled in my limbs.

Just then, heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway outside.

Nick burst through the door, his eyes wide with worry when he saw Seraphina, his voice sharp with scolding.

“You shouldn’t be here, not in a place like this. Your health is too fragile. You could have just called me.”

Everyone said Nick Valentino was cold, unfeeling, a man who never let anyone get close.

Last lifetime, I’d thought the softness he’d shown me was special, that it was only for me.

But now I saw it clearly: the warmth in his eyes when he looked at Seraphina was real, nothing like the feigned tenderness he’d shown me.

He noticed me staring, and turned.

The warmth vanished when he looked at me, voice cold with warning.

“You’ll come to Chicago with us. You’re lucky to be alive. Don’t reach for what isn’t yours.”

Another sharp twinge hit my chest.

So my love, my loyalty, my life, had been nothing but a crime to him.

I bowed my head, voice flat and calm.

“Thank you for saving me, Miss Moretti. I’ll serve you faithfully, and never reach for anything that isn’t mine.”

I followed Seraphina out to the black Rolls-Royce idling outside.

But before I could climb in, a hand shot out, and wrapped tight around my wrist.

It was Nick.