Chapter 5

RAVEN’S POV

Chapter 4 – Pretty Lies, Ugly Truth

The Caruso estate was awake long before the sun, as was its usual.

I slipped in through the back entrance, nodding to the guards I recognized. The scent of cigar smoke and espresso still clung to the halls like a second skin. This place would always feel more like home than any castle Leon Vitali could build.

I didn’t bother knocking.

My father’s office door swung open with a quiet creak, revealing the familiar shadows of men hunched over maps and whiskey. Four men sat at the long table, and they all went still at the sight of me. The air snapped taut.

“Raven,” my father said, barely lifting his eyes from the desk. “What are you doing here?.”

“This can’t wait.”

He didn’t sigh, but his silence was enough. He dismissed the men with a wave of his hand. No one argued. Not when Jack Caruso wanted the room.

When the door shut behind them, I pulled the envelope from my coat and dropped it on his desk.

He picked it up without a word, reading the note. I watched his eyes track each line.

They’ll kill you before the wedding. Watch the maid with the braid.

His expression didn’t change. “Where did you find this?”

“Under my door. Vitali estate.”

“Handwritten. All caps. Block print,” he murmured, flipping it between his fingers. “Sloppy. Someone wants you rattled.”

“Well, they didn't succeed.”

He looked up at me, calm and unbothered. “It’s meant to scare you.”

“And what if it’s more than that?”

He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach like this was just another Thursday. “Leon gains nothing from your death, Raven. He wants the South. He wants the alliance. Killing you would be... counterproductive.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Unless he already has another deal in the works.”

“If he did, I’d know.” His voice sharpened. “You forget who I am.”

I didn’t. Not for a second.

Still, something in my gut twisted. “He watches me like I’m a loaded gun.”

My father chuckled. “You are a loaded gun.”

He stood, folding the letter in half and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Leon sees this as a peace offering. A business arrangement. You’re the symbol of that deal. He won’t harm you.”

“But someone might,” I muttered.

His eyes flicked toward me, hard. “Then do what I trained you to do. Stay alive.”

I exhaled slowly, pressing my palms into his desk. “Give me a job. Something real. Something I can do.”

“You already have one.”

He walked around the desk, stopped beside me, and laid a hand on my shoulder ,not soft, not fatherly, but final. “For the next year, your only job is to make Leon Vitali trust you… and give him an heir.”

I jerked away from him like he’d burned me.

“That’s it?” My voice cracked around the words. “Breed and behave?”

He looked at me like I was being dramatic. “You’re not a child anymore. You’re an asset.”

“No,” I said coldly, stepping back. “I’m your daughter.”

“Same thing.”

That was it. That was the end of the conversation.

And I hated how much I’d expected more.

By noon, I was outside, leaning against the sleek black hood of my car and calling the one person who still reminded me what it felt like to be human.

“Sienna,” I breathed when she answered. “I need out.”

“Clubbing or killing?”

“Retail therapy first. Then vodka. Then bad decisions.”

She laughed. “Pick me up in twenty.”

We hit the city hard.

Sienna strutted out of a high-end boutique with three dresses I was pretty sure cost more than most people’s rent. I picked the shortest thing I could find in blood red, just to piss off whoever was watching me. I bought heels I’d probably break someone’s nose with.

We grabbed overpriced cocktails and tried on clothes we’d never wear again.

For a few hours, it felt good to be reckless. Pointless. Young.

That night, we walked into Club Lux like we owned the place.

Sienna sparkled in silver. I wore the red dress, no bra, no apologies. The bass pounded through the floor like a second heartbeat. Bodies pressed close, sweat and perfume clouding the air. A man offered to buy us drinks. Sienna smiled. I told him to go to hell.

We danced anyway.

I lost myself in the music, in the flash of lights, in the lies I told myself , that I wasn’t a pawn, that I wasn’t scared, that I could still choose the kind of woman I wanted to be.

But even in the middle of the chaos, I feel it.

Eyes on me.

Watching.

Waiting.

The note still echoed in the back of my mind:

They’ll kill you before the wedding.

Watch the maid with the braid.

My father might call it fear.

I called it instinct.

And instinct had never failed me yet.