Semua Bab Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Liam lunged at me, his fist cutting through the air with force. I caught it easily, my fingers wrapping around his knuckles like a vice. He struggled, trying to pull away, but my grip held firm. "Your punches are already different than before," I smirked, yanking his arm forward and throwing the punch right back into his face. His head snapped back, and I saw the realization dawn in his eyes—I had baited him, and he fell for it. I grabbed a handful of his shirt and let out a chuckle. "Come on, man! Don't bitch out! I've only just started with you!" He thrashed in my grip, genuinely trying to escape, but it was pathetic. I slapped him around like he was a joke, jerking him back and forth like a ragdoll while he flailed. Every time he tried to get his footing, I shoved him again, making sure he understood just how outmatched he was. "E-enough! I lost! I'm sorry!" Liam gasped, his voice strained. "I take back what I said!" "Stop fucking around, square jaw! Are you even sure you're a

"He took out four guys by himself?" "Yeah, from the Roth gang." The Roth gang? That bastard took over my gang?! I jolted awake. "What'd you do to him? How badly did you beat him?" someone asked. "Not at all." Dammit. Where am I? I tried moving but quickly realized I was tied to a fucking chair. A shadow loomed in front of me. Tracksuit. Vulture tattoo. Cigar breath mixed with whiskey. Cormac "The Blade." A crime lord, a legend, and a royal pain in the ass in my last life. "It's nice to meet you, kid," he said, watching me like I was some kind of exotic animal. "I've been dying to meet you after hearing all the rumors. I forgot to introduce myself—you must be wondering who I am." Like hell I was wondering. I knew exactly who he was. "This is actually pretty surprising," he mused, rubbing his chin. "I heard you were hot shit these days, so I just wanted to see what you looked like. But you're pretty handsome. Do they choose the strongest in school based on looks now?" He'

I ended up telling him everything—well, almost everything. I explained how I had no ties to either gang but that after beating up a few bullies, both factions were suddenly interested in recruiting me. I made it clear that I wanted no part of either. Of course, I left out the part about being reborn and the fact that Jared's father had personally called me. I wasn't even sure if the cops knew who the Vultures' leader was. Hell, I hadn't been entirely sure myself until yesterday. In the end, my story had to be vague. If I said too much, I'd have to explain why I knew so much about gang life and territory, which would lead to questions I couldn't answer without sounding like a lunatic. Explaining that voices only I could hear were telling me to complete tasks? Yeah, that was a one-way ticket to a padded cell. So instead, I played the part of the scared little kid who didn't know what to do. And it worked. "I'm glad you told me the truth," Dean said after a pause. Then, tilting his

{TW: Violence, Death} I'm so stupid! Why the fuck would I promise him that I'd get revenge? I already told the cops everything, so why did I have to run my mouth and keep the event going? I blame Damien for this! It's all his fault that shit is getting fucked up for me at the moment. [New Mission: Revenge for Jason Award: Personality Types Revealed Penalty: Hospitalization] Like I was going to go out of my way to find them. I'd just call Damien's dad and tell him to get a move on. Where's that card he gave me with his number? Before I could find it, my phone suddenly rang with an unknown number. "Hello?" I answered. "Is this Jack Spencer?" a gruff voice asked. I don't want to look, so you send them to me? Fucking pushy! "Who is this?" I hissed. "I'm Declan McIntyre from the Vulture gang. Where are you now? Come out to the school library in thirty minutes," he said. "Sure, whatever. Let's meet," I said, hanging up the phone. Saves me a lot of trouble, I gues

{TW: violence} He was a fucking piece of shit. People like him don't stop unless someone stops them. If I let him live, he'd just go after someone else—some other poor kid, alone on the streets, who wouldn't be able to fight back. I couldn't let that happen. John was crawling toward the wall, dragging himself slowly. His body trembled, soaked in sweat. His face had gone deathly pale, and I could see the way he was swallowing hard, trying to hold back the bile rising in his throat. He looked like he was about to pass out. I crouched down to his level, staring into his face. That look of pure terror... God, it was beautiful. I could get addicted to this feeling. "P-Please," John whispered. Still conscious? How? I smirked. "Please what? Please hit me? Well, if you insist!" I backhanded him across the face. CRACK. John let out a painful shriek as he collapsed onto his side, clutching his cheek. Blood dripped from his mouth, staining the floor as he coughed.