Too Late To Beg: The Scapegoat's Revenge

In my previous life, I spent every waking moment cleaning up the messes of Dante Moretti, the heir to the Chicago Outfit.

I dragged him away from drugs and strippers just so he wouldn't miss his Initiation Ceremony.

Because of my loyalty, he became a Made Man.

But a year later, when he needed a scapegoat for his own incompetence, he didn't thank me.

He framed me for being a rat.

I was forced to watch my parents executed in front of me before I was thrown into a freezing solitary cell to rot.

The last thing I felt was the biting cold leeching the life from my body while he continued to live like a king.

I died realizing my love was just a weapon he used against me.

But when I blinked, the suffocating darkness dissolved into blinding strobe lights.

I was back in the club.

It was the night before his Initiation.

Dante stood in front of me, high and arrogant, demanding his car keys so he could go see a stripper named Roxy instead of preparing for his oath.

In the past, I begged him to stay. I saved his reputation.

This time, I looked at the man who murdered me and felt nothing but ice.

I pressed the keys into his hand.

"Go," I said, condemning him to his own destruction.

"Have the night of your life, Dante."