3. THE RAVEN

LUNA

I always wanted to scream. If someone asked what one thing you wanted the most, it’s to scream.

But when the time finally came, I couldn’t even move my lips.

There was so much inside me to say, so many words clogged in my throat, so many sentences I hid inside my heart, so many wishes I wanted to share, so many letters I could form but didn’t let out of fear.

So many words, but no one let me voice them out.

Now, there is a person standing before me, demanding that I speak. All I could do was stare.

The man with the amber eyes croched to my level.

I learned not to look straight into a man’s eyes a long time ago.

Now, I couldn’t look away.

Not because I am mesmerised.

I was just frozen.

His hands are big. Too big. He can probably break my neck in a second. My head would fit in those hands perfectly.

I couldn’t win him even if I tried to fight.

I knew men like him. I have grown up around men like him.

The morals and principles in the real world don’t apply to them. If my guess is correct, he is just like my father. This guy either works for a mob or runs it. My bet is on the latter.

“Hmm.” That’s all he said.

He didn’t touch me. He didn’t harm me—yet. He didn’t do anything. He simply stared. Silence stretched between us. My chest heaved, raising and falling. His gaze zeroed in on the exact movement.

I stopped breathing.

It’s too silent here.

He is not doing anything. And somehow that feels more frightening.

His eyes were intense. He didn’t try to hide that he was staring. I wanted to cover myself and scrambled back. But my legs and hands were tied. I will look pathetic if I scramble back.

If it’s one thing life taught me all these years, it’s this—never show your weakness to your enemy. Never make them see that you are scared.

I held his gaze. Or I tried to.

We stayed like that for a minute, an hour—I don’t know anymore.  

He stood up and walked out.

A minute later, someone else walked inside.

He nudged me with his shoe as if I were nothing but dirt, as if I were not another human being with a heart.

“What’s your name?” He questioned.

How the hell did he manage to kidnap a girl without knowing her name? It's beyond me.

“Can you speak?”

“Come closer. I can bite.” I wanted to say.

Instead, I remained silent, inspecting my surroundings. This man has a long beard, unlike the Amber eyes before. A chill passed through my spine when I thought about him.

He is unpredictable, and that’s exactly what I hate the most in this world. If I can’t read them, I can’t escape them.

However, this guy—I can sense that—he is a perfect example of the male species.

He clearly believes he is stronger than me and wastes no time in proving that. He believes he is the man.

What kind of a man would abduct a girl to prove that he is the man?

I am sure these people are my father’s enemies. He has many. He ruled the underworld of Whiltred with an iron fist. It’s the city where my father's word was law, and his enemies became ash beneath his heel.

But I don’t think I am in Whiltred. If I were, my father’s men would have already found me.

So where was I?

I ran through the list of names I'd heard whispered in my father's office. The rivals. The enemies. The men who wanted him dead.

There were so many.

But none of them would dare to take me.

Then, who did it? How do I escape?

“Talk,” this time, the guy shouted.

My body trembled in fear. An angry man is never a good sign.

I must find a weapon to defend myself.

“Ryan.” A deeper voice warned.

I tried to raise my head to look at the owner of that voice. Footsteps approached me again.

The same slow and steady kind.

“She won’t talk,” The Ryan guy complained.

Ask me nicely.

“She doesn’t have to.” The deeper voice said. “Bring her to The Raven.”

Silence followed his words before the Ryan guy broke it.

“But, isn’t she—,”

“She is no mafia princess.” The deep voice said. “Rumour has it that she is a whore.”

I close my eyes, imagining myself cutting his throat open. I was too good for that kind of shit. But if I could, I would.

But, the issue is—what’s Raven?

The Ryan guy laughed, “Colton will go crazy.”

As if my father wasn’t already crazy.

*

Thirty minutes later, I found myself thrown into a small room. Raven turned out to be a whorehouse. I still can’t say where I am, what city is this, or how much time passed since I was abducted, since Remi was—

A tear rolled down my cheek.

One. Two. Three…

I finally found my voice to sob.

For Remi, for myself, and for all my dreams.

My hair was damp. I don’t know if it’s sweat or someone else’s blood.

I have always had long hair like my mother—pitch black, wavy, and voluminous.

I was never allowed to cut it.

I was going to, though. After my wedding, I was going to do so many things.

My blue satin dress was torn at my thighs and waist. I was eagerly waiting to change into my comfy pyjamas. And now, I don’t know if I would be lucky enough to be offered a new dress.

Someone attacked my engagement party. They must be as strong as my father, or else they wouldn’t even try. I am Colton’s daughter. Surely, they wouldn’t kill me.

But I can’t say they wouldn’t harm me.

There were thousands of ways to break a girl.

And I wondered, if I were a boy, would I ever find myself in this situation?

The door opened again. Judging by the shadow that fell in the doorway, it’s the man with a deep voice again.

My entire body shivered.

I stink. Sweat formed on my forehead. I desperately need to shower, change my clothes, and and and and—

I need to breathe.

Pristine shoes.

Tall legs.

Black slacks.

Hands shoved into the pockets.

“Welcome to Raven,” it’s the deep voice again.

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe.

Are they going to sell my body? Are they going to kill me? Are they going to use me to get leverage against my father?

Then, why kill Remi?

“Remi,” I said.

The men stepped closer.

“Remi.” I muttured again.

Even I couldn’t hear my voice. “Remi. Remi. Did you kill him?”

I swear I am talking. But I can’t find my voice either.

“This girl is traumatised.” The deep voice said right when I was about to speak loudly.

I am not.

I mean, I am.

But I don’t think I am traumatised enough to lose my voice.

The man sat on the chair before me. Even while sitting, he looked taller.

“Why aren’t you fighting?”