The Wicked Game [ONHOLD]

Nyx’s POV

**Three years ago…**

I smiled.

Today was my birthday.

Eighteen. Finally free, or at least that’s what I wanted to believe.

I had plans with Zane tonight. My Zane.

The only light in my dark world.

Everything felt perfect.

High school was over. Harvard was waiting.

And for once, I dared to think that maybe, just maybe, the universe was being kind to me.

Zane was five years older, dangerously older, but I didn’t care.

He was my calm in the storm.

My forbidden sin.

My everything.

Even if his world was painted in blood and mine was built on lies.

My phone buzzed, dragging me out of my thoughts.

The screen lit up with his name.

Zane.

My heart skipped a beat. I answered immediately.

“Angel,” his voice came through, rough and warm, the kind that could make me forget everything.

“Zane,” I breathed, smiling before I could stop myself.

“My love, happy birthday,” he said, his tone softening. “I have something huge planned for you. Remember our place? The one by the lake. I’ll see you there at nine.”

I bit my lip, trying not to sound too eager.

“I’ll be there,” I whispered, already picturing his smile, the way his eyes softened when he looked at me.

But before I could reply again,

Bang!

A loud noise cracked through the speaker. My body jolted.

Gunfire. I knew that sound too well from the whispers about his family.

“Baby?” I said, panic clawing at my throat. “What was that? Zane…are you okay?”

I could hear his breathing, shaky and harsh.

Then his voice came, strained but steady.

“Angel, I’m fine. Don’t worry, okay? Just… stay beautiful for me. I’ll see you tonight with your gift.”

I tried to speak, but another voice thundered in the background, rough and venomous.

“Fucking bastard!”

I froze.

That voice – I knew it.

Luciano Moretti.

Zane’s father. The Devil of Naples.

My fingers trembled around the phone.

“Zane…” I whispered.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then his voice dropped to a whisper, soft, raw, broken.

“I love you, Nyx.”

My breath hitched. He never called me by my name. Not when he called me Angel.

“I love you too, Zane,” I said, my voice shaking.

And then, nothing.

The line went dead.

I stared at my reflection on the phone’s black screen, forcing a smile.

“He’s fine,” I murmured, though my voice betrayed me. “He said he’s fine.”

Convincing myself that Zane was okay, I forced a smile and wiped my tears before heading downstairs to face my family.

My family, the perfect Ravens.

Prestigious. Respected.

Rotten to the bone.

Our relationship had always been strained, but it became unbearable the moment they found out about Zane.

I still remember the first time my father hit me.

The sharp crack of his palm against my cheek, the burning sting that followed, and the disgust in my brothers’ eyes as if I had dragged mud into their spotless world.

And my mother, God, the way she looked at me.

Like I was something she regretted giving birth to.

It had only gotten worse since then.

When I stepped into the dining room that morning, the laughter and chatter faded instantly.

Silence.

Four pairs of cold eyes turned toward me.

I forced a polite smile, pretending not to notice the tension slicing through the air.

“Good morning, Father. Mother. Alexander, Damon, and Finn,” I greeted, nodding toward my brothers.

None of them replied.

Not one word.

Not even a simple happy birthday.

The ache in my chest was unbearable, but I swallowed it down.

“Umm…” I started, trying to sound normal, but my mother’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

“Why didn’t you just die?” she snapped.

My body went rigid.

“You’re a disgrace to this family!” she screamed, her face twisting with fury. “If people find out you’ve been spreading your legs for that filthy bastard born of blood money, do you even realize what that would do to us?”

“Mother—”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” she roared. “You shame me every time you breathe his name!”

My father slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming like thunder.

“That boy is scum, Nyx. His family deals in corpses and cocaine. And you…” he pointed at me, eyes filled with venom, “you bring filth into my house.”

I clenched my fists. “Zane is not–”

Before I could finish, my mother grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the glass table.

The sound of cracking glass echoed through the room. Pain exploded behind my eyes.

Warm blood trickled from my nose, dripping onto the white linen tablecloth.

I gasped, dizzy, the room spinning around me.

Alexander, the eldest, pushed his chair back with a scoff.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” he muttered coldly. “I can’t eat while she sits there bleeding like some cheap whore.”

The others followed, their footsteps echoing against the marble floor as they left one by one.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Only my father and I remained.

He stood up slowly, adjusting his suit cuffs as he approached.

That smile, calm, cold, and too practised, made me shiver.

“Don’t worry, Nyx,” he said softly, placing a hand on my cheek, ignoring the blood. “It’ll all be over soon.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Happy birthday, love. You’ll be getting my gift very soon.”

And then he walked away, leaving me in the heavy silence of the room.

Something inside me trembled.

That same cold feeling I had when Zane’s call ended crept back into my chest.

Something was wrong.

But I brushed it off, forcing a small smile even as the blood dripped down my chin.

“It’ll be okay,” I whispered. “As long as I get to see my Zane.”

I sat back down and picked at the untouched breakfast, alone at the massive dining table.

Trying to pretend everything was fine.

Trying to pretend my world wasn’t about to shatter completely.

I stayed in my room the entire day.

The mansion was silent, too silent.

No footsteps, no whispers, no sound from the maids or guards. Just a heavy, suffocating quiet that made the air feel cold.

I texted Zane a dozen times.

Are you okay?

You promised we’d meet tonight.

I miss you.

No reply.

Maybe he was busy. Maybe his surprise was something huge, something that needed time.

I told myself that again and again until I started to believe it.

By 8:30, I was standing in front of my mirror, getting ready.

I wanted to look perfect for him.

The kind of perfect that would make him forget the blood on his hands and the world against us.

I wore the dress he loved, the one he said made me look like moonlight.

A silk-white gown that clung to my skin, soft and innocent, with lace around the shoulders. My hair fell in loose curls down my back, and I painted my lips a soft pink, like the first rose that bloomed in spring.

For the first time in months, I saw a woman staring back at me, an adult, glowing, in love.

I smiled. Zane would love this.

He had a surprise for me, and I had one for him too.

I was going to tell him about us.

The thought made me blush.

I slipped on my heels, grabbed my keys, and stepped out.

The mansion was empty—no parents, no brothers, no guards.

Strange.

Usually, there were eyes everywhere, shadows that followed me.

But tonight, there was nothing.

Still, I brushed it off and smiled. Maybe this was their gift: peace for once.

I got into my car, a sleek new Benz my father bought for appearances, and drove through the quiet night, the city lights blurring into gold streaks.

Zane’s hideout was just outside town.

A small cabin near the woods, overlooking the lake.

Our place.

Our escape from the hell we called family.

When I arrived, the place was dark. Too dark.

“Zane?” I called softly, stepping inside.

The scent of roses filled the air. Candles flickered in the corner.

And then,

I froze.

My parents were standing there.

My brothers too.

And opposite them, Zane’s parents.

I blinked, confused. “Mom? Dad?”

In the center of the room, on a small table, sat a box wrapped in red ribbon.

Before I could speak, everyone started to sing.

Happy birthday to you…

My heart pounded.

For a moment, I thought, maybe, just maybe, they’d changed.

Maybe they had accepted us.

Maybe this was their way of saying sorry.

I smiled through the tears that filled my eyes and ran into my parents’ arms.

“Thank you! Thank you for accepting me and Zane!” I laughed softly, my voice shaking.

They said nothing. Only smiled. Cold, empty smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.

I turned around, looking for him.

“Where’s Zane?”

Luciano Moretti, Zane’s father, stepped forward. His voice was calm, almost kind.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He’s here. Open your gift.”

I smiled. My heart raced with excitement.

This was it. My surprise.

I untied the ribbon, lifted the lid,

and the world stopped.

Inside the box,

was Zane’s head.

Blood pooled beneath the silk. His eyes, once so full of love, stared blankly at me, lifeless and cold. His lips still curved in a faint smile.

I couldn’t breathe.

The box slipped from my hands and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Gasps turned into laughter.

Luciano chuckled first. “How’s the birthday gift, sweetheart? Romantic, isn’t it?”

My father joined in, his tone mocking.

“Did you really think I’d let my daughter marry a filthy mafia son? Blood money isn’t love, Nyx. It’s poison.”

Alexander smirked. “Guess your little fairytale ended early, huh, sister?”

I stumbled back, trembling.

“No… no, this isn’t real.”

My mother tilted her head, smiling like it was something amusing.

“You should thank us, dear. We saved you from dying beside that bastard.”

“Stop it!” I screamed. My voice cracked, but they only laughed louder.

Luciano’s voice was cold and cruel. “You should have seen how he begged, little one. The way he screamed your name when I cut his throat.”

I dropped to my knees, sobbing, my stomach twisting violently. I vomited on the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

I could still hear Zane’s voice echoing in my head, Angel, I love you…

No.

No, no, no.

My father placed a hand on my shoulder. “I told you everything would be okay.”

I looked up at him, and for the first time, I saw the truth.

They weren’t human.

None of them were.

I was dragged out of the cabin in silence, my body limp, my mind shattered.

After that, I don’t remember much.

Only the walls of my room. The darkness. The screams in my head.

I don’t know how many days have passed.

I didn’t eat. Didn’t speak. Didn’t cry anymore.

Because there was nothing left inside me to break.

They took everything.

They took the two most precious things away from me.

My love.

My light.

And the tiny heartbeat growing inside me.

My surprise for Zane, our unborn child.

That day, something inside me died.

And something else was born,

cold, empty, merciless.

The girl named Nyx Raven was buried that night.

And what rose in her place…

was darkness.

.

**Present day**

I gasped, air ripping into my lungs, and woke from the nightmare like I’d been pulled from a drowning.

Three years.

Three years of that scream folding into sleep, and it still finds me.

I let a long breath out, slow and deliberate, then slipped into my robe. Sleep had fled me for good. I moved through the house like a ghost, every step measured, every sound swallowed by the night.

In the other room, the board waited. My board.

Photographs, names, dates, and red string tying them into a map of ruin. Pins like tiny daggers held each face in place. For three years those strings had been my prayer beads, my scripture. Each knot a promise. Each crossing a step closer.

I smiled. Not sweet. Not innocent. A thin, sharp smile that wouldn’t belong to any woman who’d once been loved.

Three years of planning. Three years of patient hunger. Nothing would stop me now.

The voices were there, as always, soft, hungry things curling in the edges of my mind, feeding on the dark I had taught them to live in. They whispered moves, sacrifices, and waits. They counted the beats between heartbeats.

I stepped closer to the board. Red lines led to one portrait in the centre. Blond hair, green eyes, and a wide careless smile that made my skin crawl. Julian Moretti.

I traced his face with the tip of my finger as if it were a chess square. In my head the board rearranged itself.

Luciano, the king: fat with power, crowned in fear and cruelty.

My brothers, rooks and bishops, predictable and cold.

My parents, castled in their lies, immovable until check.

Zane, the fallen knight, the hole he left in my game.

And Julian, he was the golden pawn everyone loved but never saw as a threat. The one they’d hide. The one they’d never suspect.

He will be my pawn, I thought.

Not because he is weak, but because he is beloved. Because he is the square, Luciano would never sacrifice himself. Because a pawn, patient and unnoticed, can cross the board and become a queen.

I smiled wider. Cruel and eager. The kind of smile that promises bad weather.

I pictured the moves: the gentle hand that will guide him, the false kindness that will make him trust me, and the whispered lies I will teach him to swallow. Each step is a push across the board, forward, forward, until the king stands alone, exposed. Check. Checkmate.

My fingers closed around the map, tight enough to whiten the skin. I could taste the metal of the plan, cold and inevitable.

“Move one,” I whispered to the empty room, to the ghosts, to the dark.

The house held its breath.

The game began.