Chapter 3: you

RAVEN

The first time I’d witnessed true violence was when I was eleven years old.

I can remember being fast asleep and suddenly being awoken by a pair of strong arms that wrapped themselves around me. Like a python, they encased me to the point where I felt as if I was suffocating.

Leo and Cain heard my screams and immediately came running to my aid with zero hesitation.

That’s when they realized that one of the security guards my uncle had entrusted with my safety was attempting to kidnap me. Cain removed the knife he always keeps tucked in his belt and plunged it into the man’s neck.

My eyes were sprayed with blood and since that day, I’ve permanently thought that it’s the perfect metaphor. My life has become just that—seeing the world through a lens filled with blood and gore.

To this day, I vividly remember the way the red pooled and stained my blush-coloured carpet. The stuffed animal I was holding—the one my mother gifted me in childhood—when he grabbed me had managed to fall in close proximity of the blood and ended up stained so it was tossed away.

Surely just like that man had been.

I’d had nightmares about it for a long time, but eventually, it’d replayed over and over so many times in my head and in my dreams that I believe I grew desensitized to it. It’s fucked up, I realize that, but it’s what I know.

At this point, I don’t know any different.

Perhaps the events that happened that night help explain why I tend to act out. I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that I didn’t ask to be raised in this environment. I didn’t want to be around gangsters and violence and anger, but these are the cards I’ve been dealt.

And there isn’t anything I can do about it.

My cousin Dove is my best friend—and my biggest critic. She’s far too soft for this world and I worry for her as she frets about me. She thinks that the incident that night when I was eleven has affected me more than I like to show.

I can’t be certain. I try not to think of what it looked or felt like.

Of the idea of what would’ve happened to me had Leo and Cain not heard me screaming for my life. Being thankful that he couldn’t get a hand over my mouth before I was able to successfully call for help.

I believe I either would’ve been killed or sold off to slavery. It’s possible he wanted to ransom me, but I can’t imagine what he would’ve done with me when he got what he wanted. Hell, I’m not sure if my uncle would’ve paid the man any money. That’s if I had to guess, but I don’t particularly like dwelling on it.

Dove enjoys hanging out with me outside the mansion we call home, but she never lets loose to the degree that my friends and I do. Some might call us reckless. We tend to get a little heavy handed when it comes to alcohol and it often leads us into stupid decisions.

I can admit, being niece of the Don does have its perks. There are times when I push the boundary a little too far because I know that my consequence will be nothing like the consequence that someone else would receive if they fucked with me. It can be a fun sort of invincible feeling, if you know how to enjoy it.

I’m sort of testing those boundaries as we speak because my friends and I have had too much to drink and are sitting at a row of slot machines in a rival mafia’s casino.

In our defense, we didn’t plan on coming here. I honestly just wanted a nice night out with some friends, it’s not like I always have negative intentions. And we haven’t done anything bad.

Yet.

Max seems in a mood, though and I’m too buzzed to care. He already tried fighting someone on our walk here, so it’s only a matter of time before he goes off.

He’s that type of drunk sometimes. The mean and angry one that is about as fun as a sliver in your dominant finger.

I’m wearing a little white romper. It has a deep V cut into the bust, and long sleeves, with a tie up at the waist. From a glance, I’m sure it appears like I’m wearing a dress with the way the hem frills.

I went cute, but practical. This way, if I happen to drink too much and fall over, I won’t flash the entire state.

“Did you meet the new guy yet, Rae?” Dove turns to me as she places another bet, a perfectly manicured eyebrow lifting as she inquires.

“You mean the one with all the tattoos?” Is that an accurate way of describing him? I mean, tattoos are a popular thing now, so really, I could be talking about anyone.

“Black hair, gorgeous light brown—maybe hazel—eyes, nose piercing, stubble?”

I know exactly who she’s talking about. I’ve heard little bits of conversation from Leo and Cain about him. They seem interested in his abilities, especially considering he apparently won a race first try. On the circuit that Adiv has been racing for weeks, if not months, now and hasn’t had much success with.

I have to admit—a guy that knows his way behind the wheel of a car? Mega big dick energy.

Leo and my uncle were curious firstly about how the new guy was so good, but also because they were trying to figure out new ways to profit from it. They’re constantly looking for fresh ways to make quick and easy cash.

Pimping out the new guy—who’ll be desperate for Cain’s attention and praise—is the best thing for them to do. I don’t blame them.

You learn a thing or two when you’re around this shit all the time. Some of it’s useful, some of it isn’t.

The useful shit though? It can be life saving.