The Raven Four: Books 1-2

by Jessica Sorensen

  Refusing to let me see the truth.

  A truth that I have a feeling is horrifying.

  Jax

  “Don’t you want to hurt her?” my dad mocks me as he shoves me forward toward a crying girl that’s in the middle of the room. “I thought you were a tough guy. That’s what you tried to tell me yesterday, remember?”

  I swallow hard as he shoves me toward the girl again, this time rougher and I stumble. I don’t want to hurt the girl, but I also don’t want my dad to think I’m weak. If he does, he’ll go back to letting people do whatever they want with me. And I can’t go back to that. Ever. I don’t know if that makes me weak, to fear something—to fear him. What I do know is that I am afraid of my dad. I hate that I am. I hate myself for not being strong enough to stop him, from hurting me. And for not being able to stop myself from hurting this girl that’s in front of me.

  I used to wonder if all the kids my age had these sort of problems, if they’re home lives were as dark and disturbing as mine. If they lived in nightmares. But after spending some time at school with kids that weren’t part of the founding families that run this town, I realized my life was far from normal. Well, except for Hunter and Jax’s lives. Theirs are as screwed up as mine. I know because they’re here with me right now, they’re dads telling them the same thing.

  Hurt the girl.

  Tear her apart.

  “Break her,” my dad whispers in my ear. “You know you want to. And if you don’t, I’ll punish not only you, but Zay and Hunter too. Is that what you want?”

  He knows my weak spot and I hate that he does.

  I glance at Zay and Hunter. They’re standing across the room, staring at the girl. Hunter looks like he’s about to vomit and Zay looks emotionless. But Zay is a lot like me, can shut down when he needs to. But eventually he always explodes. Hunter is the most emotional out of all of us. In fact, sometimes he feels too much and becomes too attached to things. But the three of us, we’re best friends. We do everything together. If one of us hurts, we all hurt. If one of us needs revenge, we get it. If one of us falls, we all fall.

  And now we’re gonna break this girl together.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper to no one in particular as I step toward the girl.

  She’s hunkered down with her head lowered and her arms wrapped around herself. She looks like a broken angel. All that’s missing is wings. But that only means that she’s gonna fall when we break her. Maybe all of us are going to fall together, break, shatter.

  I swallow hard at the thought, but keep going, knowing there’s no going back from this. What I’m about to do… It’ll change me, and it’ll change Hunter and Zay. We’ll never be the same again and neither will this girl…

  My chest tightens as she glances up at me, her eyes wild and full of rage. That’s all I can see of her, the rest of her face distorted, blurry.

  Then she rises to her feet, her hands trembling by her sides.

  “Stay the hell away from me,” she warns.

  And in that moment, I’m envious of her bravery. That she can be in a room filled with people that are about to hurt her and look so strong.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper again, then reach for her, the sound of flapping wings echoing in the distance. Then music starts to play, a haunting tune that makes me feel sick to my stomach—

  My eyes pop open and adrenaline is coursing through my veins. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, rolling over to the side of the bed and reaching for the bottle of whiskey that I always keep on the nightstand.

  My fingers are trembling as I remove the lid and I hate that they are, hate when I lose control over my body and mind like this.

  Hate.

  Hate.

  Hate.

  I’m so full of it anymore that I can’t even remember the last time I felt anything else.

  Blowing out a shaky breath, I sit up and drink a few long gulps of whiskey, letting it burn the anxiety out of me. Once I feel good and calm, I put the cap back onto the bottle and set it down. Then I lower my head into my hands and take a few more deep breaths, trying to shove the memories of that girl out of my mind.

  It’s been a while since I dreamt of her, mostly because I refuse to ever think of her. It’s part of the reason why I drink so much—to forget everything. And I’ve done really well with that. Forgetting. At least on the surface. Deep down, though, in a box I keep locked up inside myself, I remember everything. Her sad eyes, her defiance. The way the air smelled like cigars. My father threatening me. How even to this day I don’t know why he made Zay, Hunter, and me hurt that girl. He never explained it to us, and when I once tried to demand an answer from him, he tied me up in a dark room for several days with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. That day I started hating my own mind and it’s been a growing hatred since.

  Not that I can ever tell anyone that. I made a vow a long time ago to keep what goes on inside me trapped there. The image of me that everyone sees is a mask, an image I created to protect myself. And to protect people from me… From the dark things I’m capable of…

  As my hands start to tremble again, the image of that girl floods my mind. I don’t know why the memory has decided to make a grand appearance but what I do know is that I want it gone, so I reach for the bottle of whiskey again and drink until I can barely feel anything. Until all I am is cold and numb inside. So cold and numb that nothing can ever hurt me.

  Then I light up a cigarette, calmly get up, and wander over to the closet to get dressed, without a single worry on my mind.

  Well, except for one, but I need that worry fresh in my thoughts so I can make sure to take care of it.

  Ravenlee Wilowwynter.

  I thought about her a lot last night. All night, in fact, until I fell asleep.

  Part of me was trying to figure out who this girl could be that Zay could barely find any information about, and why the hell our bosses want to know about her. The other part of me was simply thinking about her, about what happened yesterday on the bridge, about how I offered to take care of her uncle for her, and how I’m not sure how I’m going to do that since my father wants to know more about him.

  If it weren’t for the fact that she jumped off that bridge yesterday, I wouldn’t give a shit about what we had to do to her to find out more about her and her family. But she did jump and now we’re supposed to be bringing her into our circle… And she has all those scars… And those sad fucking eyes of hers, yet she somehow appears so defiant... Just thinking about them… They tug at something inside me and for a minute, I feel guilty about how Hunter, Zay, and I are going to use her to get what we want.

  “What the fuck?” I mutter as I realize I’m actually feeling something besides darkness.

  No, I’m not going to feel guilty. Not over some girl I barely know.

  Shaking my head, I shove down my emotions and go back to the whiskey bottle and drink until I feel completely empty inside. And just in time too since I receive a message from the big boss, aka my father.

  BOSS: I need an update on the Porter situation ASAP. His family did something last night and I need to know that you’ve got access to inside information on that, along with why his family has been so quiet lately.

  “Shit.” Yet another one of my father’s demands hangs over my head.

  Porter is a guy that goes to our school that’s from a different family and Zay, Hunter, and I are supposed to be becoming friends with him so we can learn his family’s secrets. But so far, we’ve gotten nowhere. But I can’t tell my father that.

  Me: We’ll work on getting you some information soon.

  BOSS: You have one week. Mess it up and the deal’s off.

  “Dammit,” I mutter, unscrewing the cap off the bottle of whiskey.

  I need to figure out a way to get Porter to tell us what my father needs to know. I could try to torture it out of him, but the bosses told us when they gave us the job that were to get information from Porter in a nonviolent way because they want to be snea
ky about it. For what reason, who the hell knows.

  What I do know is that I need to find a way to get information from Porter quickly. The problem is he doesn’t trust us. And honestly, who can blame him. We’re from a rival family and we generally try to stay away from one another.

  What we need is someone who isn’t part of the family to get information for us…

  And idea occurs to me and I get dressed before heading out of my room to find Zay and Hunter and inform them of the plan I’ve come up with to not only find out more about Raven and her family, but it’s also a way to help us take care of one more problem we need to solve.

  Although, part of me worries that Zay and Hunter won’t be able to shut off their guilt as easily as I can. But they’ll have to. Us getting away from this life relies on it.

  Zay

  My mind is riled up in knots, and it’s driving me crazy. Sure, my head is usually a fucking mess, but then again, fighting usually blocks out all the mental noise, for a while anyway. This morning, though, it’s not helping at all. No, what I need is to feel the sharpness of a cold razor against my flesh, but I’m really sore from all the cuts I made last night and am trying to find an alternative outlet. So far, though, it’s been a huge failure and I’m really contemplating going back to my room to try to bleed the anxiousness out of me.

  “What the heck’s your deal this morning?” Hunter asks as he enters the room, watching as I continue to beat the shit out of the punching bag. “You look stressed as fuck. And you never look stressed when you’re hitting things.” His lips quirk as he sits down on a stool and crosses his arms. “It’s why everyone thinks you’re a psychopath.”

  “That’s because I am.” I take a swing at the bag again, hard enough that it hurts my hand, and for a split second, I get a brief moment of inner peace as the pain takes over. But then the pain fades and images flood my thoughts again. Images of hair like raven feathers. Of gorgeous but haunted eyes. Of a bird in a cage that I named Raven for a reason I’ve never understood. It’s a decision I regret, too, since giving it that name is part of the reason my dad killed it. I can still hear the snapping of its bones as my father broke it in half with his bare hands.

  “See what happens when you don’t listen to me?” he warned as he discarded the raven’s lifeless body in the trash like it was nothing more than a piece of garbage. “I’ve told you countless times not to get attached to things, and yet you continue to disobey me. If you don’t learn to control yourself, I’m going to take away everything you care about.”

  I shook my head, staring at the dead bird in the garbage can, my pet Raven. “You already did,” I whispered, my heart aching for reasons I couldn’t even understand.

  I blink from the memory and take another swing at the bag, even hard this time. When my glove collides with it, pain sears through my fingers and I get a brief taste of sweet, mind-numbing emptiness. But again, the pain quickly fades and my mind crams with images again of that stupid damned day my dad killed my pet. For some reason, though, whenever I look back at the memory, I feel like there was more to that moment than I can remember.

  I tear my gloves off then grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge and down half of it, feeling tired, sweaty, and sore, which is the whole point of me working out in the morning—to wear myself out enough that I can barely think throughout the day.

  Hunter grins musingly. “Aren’t we all?”

  “Yeah, we really are.” I smile then take another long gulp of water.

  He leans forward and rests his arms on his knees. “But, for reals, why’re you so worked up this morning?” He gives a considering pause. “Are you thinking about the bird we caught yesterday?”

  I shake my head, lying to him and myself. “Not really.”

  He eyes me over. “Since when do we lie to each other, man?”

  While I like having Hunter as a friend, it sometimes annoys me how well he knows me.

  “I’m not lying.” I put the cap back on the water bottle then head out of the room to go take a shower and get dressed for school.

  “Zay,” Hunter calls out. “Whatever it is, man, you need to tell me. I don’t want to pull a Jax and remind you of the rules, but I’m not gonna just let you silently stress out about shit either.” He pauses. “We both know what happens when you refuse to deal with shit—you fucking explode and either you or someone else ends up getting hurt.” He gives a pressing glance at my arms. “And considering the fact that you’re wearing a long sleeve shirt right now and moving really stiffly, I’m gonna guess that you’ve already taken it out on yourself a little bit.

  I grit my teeth, frustrated mostly because he’s right. “Yeah, so what if I did?” I snap, turning toward him. “And don’t feed me any bullshit about the rules. We both know you don’t give a shit about them. Not really, anyway.”

  He smiles, but it’s his fake smile. “Funny, but I’m pretty sure I said something similar to you last night when Jax set the rules about our Raven.”

  “You need to stop calling her ours,” I tell him with annoyance.

  He smirks. “Would you rather I call her yours?”

  I grind my teeth so hard my jaw pops. “You need to stop fucking saying that. It’s pissing me off.”

  He stands up. “Why? Because it’s true?”

  I fold my fingers inward. “Hunter,” I warn. “You’re pushing me too far.”

  He gives a nonchalant shrug. “Sometimes pushing you too far is the only way to get the truth out of you. And you need to let it out, Zay. Right here, where I know you aren’t gonna go hurt yourself while you do it”

  I step toward him. “So you want me to kick your ass instead?”

  He shrugs, an amused smile pulling at his lips. “At least that way, you could calm the hell down without hurting yourself. And then maybe you’ll tell me what the heck is going on in your head this morning.”

  I frown. “Nothing’s going on in my head, other than the same old shit.”

  He shakes his head. “I know you’re lying. You don’t get this riled up about the same old shit.”

  “Fuck off,” I growl out, rage burning underneath my flesh.

  He fucking smiles. “Make me.”

  “Fine.” I take a swing at his face.

  If it had been anyone else, I may have broken their jaw. But since Hunter is like a brother to me, I pull back at the last second and don’t hit him as hard as I could. Still, the punch has enough force that Hunter winces in pain.

  “Fuck, that hurt,” he gripes, cupping his jaw.

  I shake my head, opening and flexing my hand. “You’re lucky I pulled back at the last second or I might’ve broken your damn jaw.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing you like me then,” he jokes, lowering his hand, the skin around his jaw already red and swollen.

  “You’re gonna bruise,” I tell him, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

  He lifts a shoulder. “Yeah? So? Wouldn’t be the first time. And besides, you feel better now, so …” He shrugs again.

  I shake my head, but he’s right. Something about hitting people who piss me off always makes me feel a tiny bit better. It’s fucked up, I know, but I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. My therapist believes that something from my past has made me this way. The problem is that I can’t remember everything about my past.

  “You know me too well,” I mutter, slumping down onto a nearby chair and massaging my temples with my fingertips.

  He sits down on the chair beside mine and leans back with his arms crossed. “You wanna talk about it now?”

  “Not really,” I grumble. But I know Hunter’s not just going to let this go. “It’s about Raven.”

  “Your raven or ours?” he asks with a tease of his brow.

  I glare at him. “If you’re gonna act like this, I’m not gonna talk to you.” I start to get up.

  He holds up his hand, indicating for me to sit back down. “Dude, chill. I’ll let up a bit, okay?”

  “Good.
” I sit back down, letting out a quiet exhale. “Honestly, I’m not even sure what’s really bugging me. I just … I don’t know … I feel like I know her from somewhere, but I have no fucking idea why.”

  “Really?” He frowns but strangely doesn’t appear too surprised.

  “Why don’t you look that surprised?” I ask him suspiciously.

  He looks worried, which is weird for him. “Because … I swear it feels like I know her, too.”

  Hunter

  I woke up this morning with a major headache, and the strangest feeling I dreamt about something important last night. But I can’t remember what. That’s not too weird, though. I haven’t been able to remember my dreams for years now. I once told a therapist about this and he tried to come up with a reason why. But he never did give me a diagnosis and I stopped going to him after only a few sessions, mostly because he was trying to convince me that I used sex and drugs as a coping mechanism for the bad shit that has happened to me. And he was right. But he also tried to convince me that I needed to stop doing drugs and having sex and I never plan on doing that. Doing so means facing the fuckedupness that is my past and again, I never plan on doing that.

  Ever.

  In fact, I have a routine to make sure that that never happens. I get up in the morning and cut a few lines. Then I suck them up and let them numb that fuckedupness right out of me. It’s only a temporary solution, though, which is why at the end of the day I’ll hook up with someone. Only then will I feel in control over my life again. Only then will I feel free of my past. Only then will I feel free of her. My fucking stepmother who ruined me.

  Of course when Zay tells me he feels like he knows Raven, the little white lines purring inside me start to silence and worry pricks it’s way to the surface.

  Honestly, I thought I was just being crazy when I thought I felt like I knew Raven. It was only for a brief moment, just enough that I was able to shove the feeling aside. And the drugs helped me wipe out the lingering feelings.