Chapter 1

In my past life, the bullet chambered in the gun on the desk was less lethal than the indifference of the two men standing beside me.

Dante and Matteo were supposed to be the future kings of Chicago, and I was their queen.

But they threw it all away for Sofia-a liar with a pretty face and a fake sob story about a gambling father.

They forced me into a gilded cage, making me serve Sofia like a maid while they played her saviors.

They let me rot in isolation until I swallowed a bottle of pills just to escape the coldness of their neglect.

They didn't even mourn me; they were too busy comforting the girl who would eventually destroy them.

I died realizing that my loyalty was my fatal flaw.

I had worshipped men who saw me as nothing more than an accessory, while they sacrificed their empire for a woman who played them for fools.

But the universe has a sick sense of humor.

It sent me back.

Back to the day that sealed my fate.

The Consigliere pushed the assignment papers toward us-the path to becoming Bosses.

"We are not going," Dante said, looking at me with cold eyes. "Sofia needs us. She is fragile."

In my past life, I begged them to stay.

This time, I stepped forward and picked up the pen.

"I will go," I said, signing my name in sharp black ink.

"I don't need your protection anymore."

Chapter 1

Elena POV:

I stared at the gun resting on the mahogany desk, knowing that in my past life, the bullet chambered inside had been less lethal than the indifference of the two men standing beside me.

The Consigliere tapped his pen against the heavy oak, the sound echoing like a gavel in the oppressive silence of the office.

He looked at the two young men who were supposed to be the future kings of the Chicago Outfit.

Dante Cavallaro and Matteo Rizzoli.

They were blood of my blood-not by birth, but by the oaths we swore in the gutter when we were starving children.

In another life, I had married Dante.

I had worshipped Matteo.

And they had let me rot in a gilded cage until I swallowed a bottle of pills just to escape the coldness of their neglect.

But the universe has a sick sense of humor.

It sent me back.

Back to the day that sealed my fate.

The Consigliere pushed two papers toward them.

This was the invitation to the High Council in New York. It was the Ivy League of the underworld. It was the path to becoming a Boss.

Dante didn't even glance at the paper.

He looked at me, his dark eyes filled with a brooding intensity that used to make my knees weak.

Now, it just made me nauseous.

"We are not going," Dante said, his voice rough with the smoke of cheap cigarettes.

The Consigliere frowned.

"This is an order from the Commission, Dante. You don't refuse."

"We have unfinished business here," Matteo added, crossing his arms over his chest.

His knuckles were scarred from a fight last night.

I knew what that business was.

Her name was Sofia.

She was a liar with a pretty face and a sob story about a gambling father.

In my past life, they had stayed for her.

They had missed their chance for power.

They had dragged me down into the mud with them, forcing me to serve Sofia like a maid while they played her saviors.

I took a deep breath.

The air smelled of leather and stale bourbon.

I stepped forward.

"I will go," I said.

The room went silent.

Dante turned to me, a sneer curling his lip.

"You?" he laughed. It was a cruel, sharp sound. "You can barely hold a gun, Elena."

I didn't look at him.

I looked straight at the Consigliere.

"I want the assignment in Europe," I said, my voice steady. "The one handling the port expansion."

Matteo scoffed.

"You are running away because we won't play house with you," he said.

He stepped closer, invading my personal space.

He smelled of gunpowder and Sofia's cheap perfume.

"You are trying to manipulate us, Elena. It won't work. Sofia needs us. She is fragile. You are... you."

I am me.

That was the problem.

I was the unbreakable Elena.

The one who didn't need saving.

So they never saved me.

Even when I was dying.

The Consigliere looked at me with new interest.

"That is a one-way ticket, Elena. You understand that? You leave the territory. You leave the protection of the Cavallaro family."

I picked up the pen.

I didn't hesitate.

I signed my name in sharp, black ink.

Elena Vitiello.

The letters looked jagged, like barbed wire.

"I don't need their protection," I said softly.

Dante grabbed my wrist.

His grip was bruising.

"Stop this drama," he hissed. "You aren't going anywhere. You belong to us. You belong to the Family."

I looked down at his hand.

In my past life, I would have begged for this touch.

Now, it felt like a shackle.

I pulled my arm back.

He was surprised by my strength.

"I am not asking for permission, Dante."

I turned to the Consigliere.

"When does the plane leave?"

"Tonight," the old man said.

"Good."

I turned to leave.

Dante and Matteo stood there, their assignment papers blank.

They were choosing a girl who would eventually betray them.

They were choosing poverty and mediocrity.

And they expected me to stay and applaud them.

Matteo called out to my back.

"If you walk out that door, Elena, don't expect us to come looking for you."

I paused, my hand on the brass knob.

I didn't turn around.

"That is the point, Matteo."

I opened the door and walked out.

I didn't tell them that, to me, they were already dead.