"WHY.....WHY .....WHY? WHY ME?"
The rain hammered the pavement in steady beats, as if the city itself was keeping time with his miserable life. Kai Emerson, 19, broke as a joke and twice as forgotten, sat back against the side of an old diner. His hands were dead from scratching at the pockets of his threadbare jeans. No cash. No hope. No life
The air was thick with the smell of undried concrete, cigarettes, and a some kind of sadness. His lighter flicked weakly in the dim glow, its flame barely managing to hold against the downpour.
Ninety thousand dollars. The debt he'd somehow landed himself in after a few bad choices and of course bad company. Mafia money. D'Amico's. They were the kind of men who didn't understand not gave second chances. And Kai had taken a little too long to understand that.
He tried to make excuses: "I'll pay you back when I can. I just need a few more days…" But they didn't care about excuses. Not anymore.
(I'll be damned if they ever cared😏)
The message was crystal clear. He could already feel it: Their eyes on him, the cold weight of their judgment, like vultures circling their pry.
A half-burned cigarette lay forgotten between his fingers, its dying embers flaring like the last of his fleeting hope. He glanced at his phone again. Nothing.
Not even his mom had checked in on him. The one person who might've cared—but she was probably tired of his empty promises too.
His head spun with the same tired thoughts. He'd tried. He really had. Dropping out of high school felt like the easy way out at the time, but now? It was just a reminder of the life he'd thrown away. No job, no skills, no real direction. His only skills were in survival, but survival didn't pay back the Mafia, not one bit.
The rain soaked his jacket, but he didn't care. It was better than the way he felt inside.
"Kai Emerson?"
The voice cut through the constant drumming of the rain. He didn't move at first. Figured it was just some passerby, not the goons he'd been waiting for.
He didn't look up. He Didn't need to.
"Kai Emerson." This time, the voice came closer, more authoritative, and the presence it carried couldn't be ignored. Heavy. Dangerous. Unforgiving.
Kai dragged his eyes up to meet them.
Two men stood at the entrance of the alleyway. One was tall, broad-shouldered, with a heavyset build. The other, shorter but leaner, had dark sunglasses on despite the storm. Their suits were sharp, as if the rain didn't dare to touch them. As if they owned the world.
(Well, they owned Kai's world)
The tall one stepped forward, not bothering to hold up the umbrella. A grim smile tugged at his lips.
"Time's up boy."
The world around Kai felt... distant. His legs were frozen in place, his arms trembling, but there was no way to escape. Not this time.
The tall man brought out a gun from under his coat, the silencer already attached. The weapon gleamed under the weak streetlight.
Kai stood slowly. Not because he wanted to, but because his body would not obey his mind anymore. He was done for. No more running. He couldn't even summon the strength to try.
It didn't matter if he begged. They wouldn't care.
(Damn, this sucks)
"Do it." His voice was barely more than a whisper, thick with exhaustion.
The taller man didn't hesitate. The shot was quick, clean and hellish. The world flashed white-hot, then dark.
Everything went still.
Warmth.
So strange. Not the kind of warmth that came from the sun or a cozy blanket. This was different. Comforting, almost unnatural. Like his body was being wrapped in something that shouldn't exist.
Kai opened his eyes—and for a moment, he thought he was dead. He was sure of it. There was no way this wasn't some kind of afterlife. He felt the weight of the sheets beneath him, the soft touch of silk against his skin. His arms pained him and there was an odd heaviness to his head.
He sat up, heart pounding, trying to get his bearings.
His eyes fell on a large mirror across the room. The reflection staring back wasn't his.
He blinked. It was a face he didn't recognize, pale skin, angular jawline, dark hair slicked back perfectly. He was tall, well-built, with sharp features that looked like they belonged on a magazine cover.
This wasn't him. Not at all.
His heart rate quickened. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stepping onto the soft carpet, the sensation of the plush material under his feet alien and surreal.
Everything in the room screamed luxury. The marble floors. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The massive windows letting in a flood of golden light from outside.
(Bruh, my dude be rich)
This was no rundown apartment. No alleyway in the middle of nowhere. This place was... rich.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a soft voice broke through the confusion.
"Master Tony," the voice said, almost reverent. "Your father requests your presence. It's time to discuss the Goal-coin."
Kai froze.
Master Tony. The name was familiar in a distant, hazy way. He couldn't put his finger on it—was this some kind of joke? Or worse... was he dreaming?
(I'm I dead...or alive?)
He stumbled to his feet, but his body was already moving as if it knew what to do. It was like he had a muscle memory for walking in this body that wasn't his, or maybe... maybe it was his now.
He wiped a hand across his face, his reflection still unfamiliar, still too perfect. And then, in the faintest whisper of a voice, he said it:
"What the hell is going on?"