Raven

You know the saying, “wrong place, wrong time”? Yeah - I’m living it right now.

I’m in a dark alley behind a club with a gun aimed at my head, and I’m scared out of my damn mind. My back’s pressed to cold brick, my hands raised, and this guy - this suit-wearing psycho - is staring me down like I’m already dead.

But before we get to how I ended up with a Glock kissing my forehead... let me rewind.

My name’s Raven Knight. Yeah, ironic, I know - my hair’s wavy midnight black, ends just above my waist, and I’ve got these freaky electric blue eyes that make people stare a little too long. I’ve got some curves, a decent face, and apparently “a whole lotta attitude,” or so people love to say. Personally, I think if you piss me off, you deserve the reaction - but whatever. Not the point.

Also, I’m an orphan. Whoop-de-doo. (Note the sarcasm.)

When I was nine, my parents and I got into a car accident. I was the only one who made it out alive. My aunt - that greedy witch - refused to take me in unless she got access to the money and property my parents left me. When the will said nope, she dumped me into foster care like I was a broken piece of furniture.

I lasted there until I was thirteen. Too many rules, too many fake smiles. So, I ran. Been on my own ever since -six years and counting. Yeah, I’m nineteen. I wander the streets like a damn ghost, dressed in an oversized, stained T-shirt (don’t ask about the stains - I sure as hell don’t know), and gray sweatpants with bleach splotches. Basically, I look like a cracked-out raccoon. And yeah, I stole these clothes off another homeless person. Harsh? Maybe. But I’m homeless too - survival isn’t pretty.

I tried to get a job once. Showed up looking like death’s cousin, so... that didn’t go well. Now I just stay low, do what I gotta do to survive, and enjoy my freedom. Rules aren’t really my thing.

Anyway - back to the gun.

You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this life-threatening situation. So here it is:

I went into the club to swipe some food and maybe snatch a halfway decent outfit off a stripper or two. It’s not glamorous, but hey - desperate times. After my haul, I ducked into the alley behind the club. That’s where I made myself a cozy little cardboard-bed setup earlier this morning. Not five-star, but it beats a sidewalk.

I was chilling, stuffing my face with half a sandwich I found, when the back door of the club slammed open. Some guy got thrown out like yesterday’s trash, landing hard. Then a group of men in black suits stepped out after him. They looked... serious. The kind of serious that comes with silencers and body bags.

One of them - definitely the leader - said something in Italian. The guy on the ground spat a curse back at him.

Then boom.

Just like that, the leader shot him in the face. Twice.

I screamed. Couldn’t help it. Loud, sharp, involuntary.

All the men turned to look. That’s when I realized: the scream came from me - and I had just witnessed a murder.

And now here we are. Gun. Head. Me.

“Look,” I said, holding my hands up. “I mean no harm. I promise I won’t say anything. I’ll just grab my stuff and go - we can pretend none of this happened.”

The guy pointing the gun at me - tall, tan, way too comfortable with murder - glanced at his friends.

Then the bastard laughed. He laughed in my face.

I frowned, already halfway to telling him off, when another man stepped out of the club. He had dark brown hair, intense forest-green eyes, and wore a sleek black suit that fit just a little too well. Early twenties, maybe mid. Whatever - he looked damn good.

He walked over calmly, hands in his pockets, and said, “What’s going on here?”

The gun guy replied, “Hey, boss. We caught this mongrel eavesdropping when we took care of Guerrero.”

Boss. So now I know who’s really in charge.

“Well,” the boss said, casually, “why haven’t you gotten rid of her yet, Toni?”

Oh, so Gun Guy’s name is Toni. Cute.

And also - get rid of her? Excuse me?

Toni shrugged. “I was about to. Then you came out.”

Boss turned to him, annoyed. “You idiot. She could be a spy. Get rid of her.”

Wow. Just talking about me like I’m not even here. Rude.

“Ugh,” I snapped, grabbing my raggedy bag. “You dipshits do know that she has a name, right? Raven. Thanks for asking.”

I stood up, completely over this crap, and started to walk off.

That’s when Boss grabbed my arm. Hard. He yanked me toward him like I was nothing more than a duffel bag.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

"Away from here,” I said, yanking back. “I’m no longer entertained.”

Okay, yeah. That may’ve been the dumbest thing to say with a gun in my face. But I honestly couldn’t care less.

He tilted his head and gave me this smile - not a nice one. Cold. Calculated. The kind of smile you see right before someone goes missing.

“No,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re coming with me.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, did I hear that right? Like hell I am. Let me the hell go, you stupid-”

Toni interrupted. “I thought we were gonna kill her?”

Boss didn’t even look at him. “You took too long. I changed my mind. She’s coming with us. Get the car out front. And someone get rid of that body.”

I screamed and fought, but it didn’t matter. He dragged me with him, ignoring every protest like I was already his.

And that... is how my life went from bad to batshit insane.

Authors Note

Hi guys thanks for coming to read my book I hope you enjoy it. I will be posting weekly, every Monday Enjoy!!!