I Was Reborn and Let Them Destroy Themselves

Gas stations dilute their fuel with water all the time. If we pour some of our drinking water into the tank, it will definitely stretch our mileage.

Franks voice buzzed in my ear like a persistent mosquito.

I pinched my own cheek hard.

Pain flared instantly.

I was reborn.

Oliver, please don't be so stubborn. Just listen to the group. This might actually be the only way we get out of these badlands alive, Frank said, looking at me with wide, timid eyes as if I were a monster about to devour him.

Valerie and the rest of the sponsored students were staring me down. I knew this scene perfectly. If I dared to reject Frank's brilliant suggestion, they would swarm me with righteous indignation. I had already lived through this nightmare once.

I offered a bright, entirely hollow smile. "Frank is so smart to come up with such a brilliant idea."

"Go ahead. Pour it in. The car will definitely run so much faster with water in the tank."

Standing nearby, Valerie offered a rare, relieved smile.

"Glad to see you're finally learning to read the room," she murmured.

I had absolutely no desire to argue with them. My mind was already racing, calculating my own escape route out of this barren wasteland.

There were eleven of us in total, split across three off-road vehicles. Originally, Valerie and I were supposed to share a car. But Frank had relentlessly whined until she agreed to ride with him, leaving me driving entirely alone.

In my past life, my SUV had the most gas left. Desperate to give the group a chance at survival, I had surrendered all my supplies to them and driven out into the endless desert alone to find a rescue team.

In this life, I couldn't care less if these idiots dug their own graves. As long as I got out alive, nothing else mattered.

Drawing on my memories, I knew civilization was about sixty miles west. My gas tank could take me forty-five miles. Thanks to years of extreme sports training, my stamina was peak. I could easily hike the remaining fifteen miles before nightfall, and I had plenty of water in my trunk to survive the trek.

With a solid plan in place, the tension bled out of my shoulders.

Just to be safe, I popped the trunk and retrieved a heavy, tactical luxury watch.

It was a birthday gift from her.

In my previous life, she had found this exact watch in the bloody dirt where the wolves had torn me apart. She had completely broken down, slapping her own face in hysterical grief, blaming herself for never telling me it had a built-in military-grade GPS beacon. All I had to do was press a button, and she could have found me anywhere on earth.

The corners of my lips curled up. With a few quick presses, I activated the satellite signal.

This time, I prayed she would find me.

Catching the glint of the expensive metal on my wrist, a flash of ugly jealousy crossed Frank's eyes.

"Oliver, don't you have a few cases of bottled water in your trunk? Bring them out for us."

My stomach dropped.

They wanted to use my drinking water to ruin the cars?

"I have four cases in my trunk. Why should I give them to you?" I challenged.

Frank crossed his arms, his posture dripping with unearned entitlement.

"Oliver, we are stranded in the desert. Water is an incredibly precious resource. You can't just hoard it all for yourself."

I let out a harsh laugh. Not ten minutes ago, he had used a full bottle of water just to wash his face. Now suddenly he cared about conservation?

Valerie stepped forward, fixing me with a cold stare.

"Bring it out."

Her tone left zero room for argument.

I took a slow breath, forcing down the boiling rage in my chest, and tried one last time to appeal to logic.

"I bought that water with my own money."

"Are you seriously keeping score at a time like this?" Frank interrupted, puffing out his chest like a brave martyr. "We have to stay united when we're in danger. If everyone acted as selfishly as you, how would we ever survive this trip?"

Right on cue, the rest of the sponsored students turned their disgusted glares on me.

"You can't drink a whole case by yourself anyway. Hand it over so we can ration it."

"Bring the water out, Oliver! Don't make us take it by force."

"Rich kids are all the same. Self-centered and useless. You don't have a fraction of Frank's maturity."

Self-centered?

If my family hadn't set up the Sinclair Foundation to pay for their tuition, every single one of these ingrates would be breaking their backs on a construction site right now. They wouldn't have college degrees, and they certainly wouldn't be guaranteed cushy corporate jobs at my family's company after graduation.

Suddenly, I understood exactly why my parents had insisted I take this road trip with them.

Extreme situations strip away the polite masks people wear. This trip was my parents' final character test for their prospective employees.

When I didn't move, they swarmed the back of my SUV and started dragging the heavy cases of water out. I lunged forward to stop them, but three guys immediately tackled me, pinning me hard against the scorching dirt.

I watched, completely helpless, as they unscrewed the caps and poured pristine drinking water directly into the gas tanks.

Without water, driving under this blistering sun would guarantee severe dehydration and heatstroke.

"Give that back."

I gritted my teeth, struggling to push myself off the ground.

Frank seized the opportunity. He scooped up a handful of loose, gritty sand and shoved it violently into my mouth.

"Shut up!" he snarled, his voice dropping its innocent act. "Say one more word and I'll fill your stomach with dirt."

I gagged violently, coughing as the coarse sand scraped down my throat and filled my nasal passages. Tears and mucus streamed down my face. I was completely humiliated, pinned to the earth like an animal.

Seeing me so pathetic, the sponsored students erupted into cruel laughter.

"Is this really the great heir to the Sinclair fortune? He looks like a stray dog! Hilarious!"

I clamped my jaw shut, forced myself up to my knees, and swung my arm back, aiming a brutal slap right at Frank's smug face.

Before my hand could connect, someone gripped my wrist like a vice.

While I was restrained, Frank instantly recovered and slapped me across the cheek with all his strength.

A sharp crack echoed in the dry air.

Valerie froze, dropping my wrist in shock.

I slumped back into the dirt, my face burning with a fiery, stinging pain.

Frank immediately cowered behind Valerie, his eyes wide with manufactured terror. "I'm so sorry, Oliver! You tried to hit me first! It was just self-defense!"

Valerie extended a hand toward me, her face twisting with deep disappointment. "Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself."

I blinked back the moisture in my eyes, tilting my head up to look her dead in the face.

"Valerie, we're done. We are breaking up."

"Frank was just reacting to your violence. He didn't mean to hit you that hard. Why are you throwing another tantrum?"

Valerie shielded Frank with her body, glaring at me warily as if I were a predator about to snap her fragile little flower in half.

A suffocating wave of exhaustion washed over me.

Throwing a tantrum?

From the day we started dating, anytime I didn't blindly agree with her, I was "throwing a tantrum."

When I chose not to attend the same mediocre university as her, I was throwing a tantrum.

When I opted to study abroad for a semester, I was throwing a tantrum.

Whenever Frank shed a single crocodile tear, I was throwing a tantrum.

"Valerie, we are fundamentally different people. Ending this is the best thing for both of us."

Time had completely eroded the girl I used to love.

When I was twelve, I sneaked out to a cheap street food stall and saw Valerie huddled in a greasy corner, scrubbing dishes until her hands were raw. Her eyes had tracked the passing students in their neat uniforms with such desperate longing.

My heart had broken for her. I begged my father to sponsor her education.

Valerie didn't waste the opportunity. She studied relentlessly, earning a spot at my elite high school.

During our freshman assembly, a massive lighting rig snapped and plummeted toward the stage. She threw herself over me, taking the impact. She suffered a severe concussion and spent a month in the hospital.

With blood pouring into her eyes, she had smiled and whispered, "Don't be afraid. I'll protect you."

After that, it was only natural that we became a couple.

But I didn't know exactly when her eyes started drifting toward Frank.

Like her, he was a charity case. His pathetic, helpless demeanor constantly triggered her savior complex. She wanted to coddle him, to protect him, until eventually her entire heart shifted in his direction.

I stumbled to my feet, snatched my keys from Frank's loose grip, and threw myself into the driver's seat of my SUV.

The moment the engine roared to life, a heavy weight lifted off my chest.

I was finally leaving this nightmare.

But as I threw the car into drive, Valerie boldly stepped directly in front of my bumper. I slammed the brakes, my forehead smashing violently against the steering wheel.

A flicker of genuine concern crossed her eyes as she softened her tone.

"Stop being dramatic. It's suicide to drive out there alone."

Frank hurried over, wrapping an arm around Valerie's shoulder while shooting me a triumphant smirk.

"Oliver, stop acting like a spoiled brat. You have the most fuel. If you drive off and waste it, what are we supposed to do?"

His words rallied the crowd instantly.

"Exactly! We have to stick together to be safe."

"Let's siphon the gas out of his tank. That way we have a better chance!"

I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "This is my car. Why the hell would I give you my gas?"

Not only was it my car, but the other two vehicles technically belonged to me as well.

One of the guys stepped up, his face red with anger.

"We are trying to survive a crisis here! Why are you still obsessing over what belongs to who?"

I rolled my eyes. "Both of your cars are packed full. If you take my SUV, where exactly am I supposed to sit? Are you giving up your seat for me?"

The guy instantly shut his mouth.

Frank tilted his head, acting as if a brilliant idea had just struck him. "Oliver, don't you love driving convertibles? You can just sit on the roof! You'll get all the fresh air you want."

The group eagerly latched onto the absurd cruelty of the idea.

"Yeah, the roof is perfect! Doesn't he love freedom? Let him feel the breeze."

"Don't worry, we have cargo ropes in the trunk. We'll strap you down tight so you don't fall off."

"This is an extreme sport money can't even buy. The great Mr. Sinclair will have a great story to brag about at his country club."

Valerie let out a heavy sigh. Just as I thought she was going to shut down this psychotic proposal, her next words plunged me into an ice bath.

"You do love extreme sports. Your stamina is better than anyone else's here. You'll survive on the roof."

Having already lost all hope in her, I didn't bother arguing. I stomped on the gas pedal.

"He's making a run for it! Grab him!" Frank shrieked.

The entire group swarmed the vehicle. Someone yanked the driver's door open, and multiple hands dragged me violently out of the cabin.

I thrashed wildly, kicking and swinging to break their grip.

"Ah!"

Frank let out a sharp cry, clutching his chest and dropping into a crouch, his face contorted in agony.

"Oliver, why did you kick me?"

Valerie violently shoved me away and dropped to her knees, pulling him into her arms.

I froze for a second, my instinct to defend myself kicking in. "I didn't even touch him."

Frank buried his face in Valerie's shoulder, looking up at me with trembling fear.

"Oliver, I'm sorry I got in your way. Please don't hit me again. It hurts so much."

Hearing this, Valerie's brow furrowed. She glared at me, her voice absolute ice.

"Apologize to him!"

"I didn't do anything wrong! Why should I apologize?"

The crowd immediately drowned me out.

"You were thrashing around like a maniac, of course you hit him."

"Frank is too pure to lie about something like this. Apologize right now!"

Sweat beaded on Frank's forehead, his breathing shallow and erratic.

"Sand got into my wound."

He lifted his forearm, presenting a microscopic scratch to Valerie like it was a fatal injury.

Valerie glared at me with pure venom. "Oliver Sinclair! Look at what you've done."

A mocking smile touched my lips. "If you waited five more minutes, that scratch would have healed completely."

Frank forced a weak, brave smile, his tone dripping with fake humility.

"Oliver, you don't have to apologize. But could I borrow your sun-proof jacket? I just need something to block the wind and the sand. My arm is burning."

The jacket I was wearing was woven from a proprietary, breathable material. My mother had commissioned a luxury designer to custom-make it for me. It blocked UV rays, repelled water, and cut the wind completely. You couldn't buy it in stores.

I rejected him without a second thought. "I'm highly allergic to UV exposure. Find something else."

Frank let out a pathetic, dramatic groan. "Never mind then. My life obviously isn't worth as much as the young master's delicate skin."

Valerie's face turned to stone. "UV allergy? That's just a pathetic excuse because you're terrified of getting a tan."

"I am going to count to three. Take it off yourself."

"One. Two."

She didn't even wait for three. Her patience vanished. She lunged forward, grabbed the collar of the jacket, and violently stripped it off my body.

Underneath, I was only wearing a thin tank top. The moment my bare skin met the brutal, relentless sun, it began to flush an angry red. The stinging pain was immediate.

Valerie gently draped the custom jacket over Frank's shoulders, softly blowing the dust away from his microscopic scratch.

Looking at them made my stomach churn with physical disgust.

I turned on my heel and marched back toward the SUV. Just as my hand touched the door handle, Valerie grabbed my wrist.

"It's just a jacket! Why are you throwing another tantrum!"

Those words were the spark that finally incinerated the last shred of my restraint.

I swung my free hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had.

"I never throw tantrums. I just throw hands!"

A bright red handprint instantly bloomed across her cheek.

Frank shrieked. "Are you insane? You hit her!"

Valerie pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek, her expression darkening into something truly terrifying. "You make a mistake, and you refuse to repent. It seems you really need to be taught a lesson, Oliver."

My stomach dropped. A primal alarm bell rang in my head.

"Since you refused to sit on the roof, you can stay behind the car."

My eyes widened in horror. "Valerie, you are completely psychotic!"

Before I could run, two of the heaviest guys in the group tackled me to the dirt. They bound my wrists tightly with heavy nylon rope. They secured the other end to the SUV's rear towing hook.

"When you realize you're wrong, we'll untie you," Valerie said coldly.

With that final sentence, she climbed into the driver's seat.

The engine roared. The car lurched forward, yanking my arms tight. I had to sprint just to keep my footing.

The SUV accelerated. My legs couldn't keep up. I stumbled, hitting the asphalt hard, and the car continued to drag me.

The rough, sun-baked gravel shredded my exposed skin. Hot blood began to stream down my arms and chest.

Panic seized me completely. I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Stop! Please, stop the car!"

The muffled sound of laughter and upbeat pop music drifted back from the open windows. No one was listening. No one cared.

The SUV swerved sharply to avoid a pothole. My body whipped sideways, and my head slammed brutally into a jagged rock.

A blinding flash of white light exploded behind my eyes. Warm blood poured down my forehead, blinding me.

True, unfiltered terror flooded my veins. Survival instinct overrode any lingering pride.

"I'm sorry! I was wrong! Please!" I begged into the roaring wind.

But the engine noise drowned out my pleas. The car showed zero signs of slowing down.

I was actually going to die out here.

My consciousness began to fracture. As the darkness crept in, I hallucinated the rhythmic thumping of helicopter rotors closing in on me.

A woman's voice cut through the chaos, frantic and furious.

"Cut him loose right now!"

Up ahead, thick black smoke began to pour from the hoods of the two lead vehicles. The convoy screeched to a halt.

Someone inside yelled in panic.

"We have a problem! The engine is dead!"