Chapter 1

The chemical cocktail was cold in my veins.

My last sight was the man I had loved for seven years, FBI Special Agent in Charge Matthew Scott, watching me from behind the glass. His face was hard, convinced I had assassinated a foreign diplomat just to get rid of some imagined rival for his affection.

He was my boss, my partner, the man I' d taken a bullet for. And he was the one overseeing my execution.

Then, darkness.

A sharp, electric jolt, and I gasped. My eyes flew open. I wasn' t in the afterlife. I was still strapped to the gurney in the federal penitentiary' s execution chamber. The same room, the same people. But I wasn't the same.

The memories of the original Jocelyn Fuller-her unrequited love, her blind loyalty-crashed into my own. I was a 21st-century woman who had just been binge-watching this exact gritty crime drama, and now I was its tragic, wrongfully convicted side character.

A monotone voice echoed in my head, like a GPS giving directions to hell.

[System Activated. Main Mission: Survive. Flip the script.]

I called it my inner producer. And its first note was a doozy.

The warden was about to give the final order. I had seconds.

"Wait!" I screamed, my voice raw.

Every head in the room turned. Matthew Scott' s eyes narrowed.

"You absolute, fucking idiot!" I yelled, straining against the restraints, my voice bouncing off the sterile walls. "Matthew Scott! You hear me? You' re not just a bad agent, you' re a pathetic, deluded fool, pining over a woman who wouldn' t spit on you if you were on fire!"

Matthew' s face went from stoic to furious. He stormed toward the glass.

"What did you say?"

"I said the First Lady is playing you like a cheap fiddle!" I shrieked, the words pouring out in a torrent of rage. "You framed me, your most loyal agent, the woman who saved your worthless life multiple times, all because you' re too blind to see you' re just a pawn in her game!"

He slammed his fist against the glass partition. "Proceed with the execution! Now!"

The warden hesitated, looking rattled.

Just as the executioner reached for the switch, a low hum vibrated through the floor. The lights flickered violently, then died. The entire prison plunged into absolute darkness, followed by the deafening roar of backup generators failing to kick in.

Chaos erupted. Shouts, alarms, the sound of panic.

My inner producer' s voice was calm amidst the storm. [Event Triggered: Statewide Power Grid Failure. Execution protocol cannot proceed. Stay of execution imminent.]

Through the emergency exit' s dim red light, I could just make out Matthew' s silhouette, frozen in disbelief. I let out a low, dark laugh.

Welcome to the show, asshole. The script just got a rewrite.