Chapter 2

Abby Talley POV

The chandeliers of the Grand Ballroom wept crystal, casting a splintered light over the monsters in tuxedos.

I stood near the entrance, clad in a dress the color of fresh blood. It was backless, spun from silk, and clung to every curve like a second skin.

In my past life, Connor had chosen a modest, pale pink gown for me-something that made me look like a virgin sacrifice.

Tonight, I dressed for war.

The Rite of Choice was an archaic tradition, a gala where the daughters of the Outfit were formally pledged to high-ranking men. For me, it was supposed to be a formality. Everyone knew the arrangement. The Don owed my father a debt, and that debt was paid by marrying me to the Family's rising star, Connor Walls.

A hush fell over the room.

Connor had arrived.

He didn't walk in alone. He walked in with Jana clinging to his arm.

It was a calculated insult. A slap in the face before the ring was even on my finger. Jana wore a dress that was too tight, too short, and entirely inappropriate for a formal Family gathering.

But it was her neck that drew every eye.

Purple bruises blossomed against her pale skin. Love bites. Violent ones. Fresh ones.

Connor paraded her through the crowd, greeting Made Men, laughing, acting as if bringing his mistress to his engagement ceremony was a power move.

And it was. He was showing everyone that I was nothing more than a business acquisition.

Then, he spotted me.

He handed Jana a glass of champagne and left her by the bar, cutting a path straight toward me. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea. He was handsome, lethal, and rich. He was everything a mafia princess was supposed to want.

"Red," he said, stopping inches from me. His eyes raked over my body, possessing me without touching me. "A bold choice. I didn't approve this."

"I didn't ask for your approval," I said, taking a cool sip of my water.

He stepped closer, eliminating the space between us. His hand shot out, gripping my upper arm. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, hard enough to bruise.

"You're making a scene, Abby," he hissed, his smile still plastered on his face for the onlookers. "First the gym, now this dress. You think playing hard to get makes you valuable? It just makes you annoying."

"And you think parading your whore around makes you look powerful?" I asked, looking pointedly at Jana, who was laughing loudly with a group of soldiers. "It makes you look like you have no discipline."

Connor's grip tightened. Pain radiated down my arm in a sharp, hot line.

"Watch your mouth," he whispered. "You belong to me. The Don signed the papers this morning. Tonight is just a show. Once we get home, I'm going to teach you some manners."

I tried to pull my arm away. He held fast.

"Let go," I said.

"Or what?" he challenged. "You'll run to my brother? The Butcher?"

He laughed, a cruel, sharp sound.

"Brannon is a monster, Abby. He scares grown men. He lives in the basement with the blood and the rats. Do you think he cares about a little bird like you?"

I looked past Connor's shoulder.

In the darkest corner of the room, leaning against a marble pillar, stood a man who looked like he was carved from granite. He wore a black suit that strained against his shoulders. He held no drink. He spoke to no one.

Brannon Walls.

In my last life, I was terrified of him. I believed the rumors. I believed he was a mindless beast who tortured people for the Family. I avoided him until the day I died.

But I knew the truth now.

I knew who had secretly paid for my father's funeral when Connor refused. I knew who had killed the men who tried to kidnap me three years ago. And I knew who had avenged my death in the timeline I left behind.

Connor followed my gaze and sneered.

"Don't look at him. He's an animal. I'm the Prince."

"Princes are just men with crowns," I said, dragging my gaze back to Connor. "And crowns can be knocked off."

Connor's eyes went flat. He squeezed my arm one last time, a warning pinch that sent a sharp spike of pain to my shoulder, then released me.

"Enjoy your freedom for the next hour, Abby," he said, smoothing his lapel. "Because after the ceremony, you're never leaving my sight again."