I stumble to my feet and start for the door, but Zay snags my arm as I pass him.
“Where are you going?” he bites out.
“I’m going to see Raven … or Willow—whoever she is.” I jerk my arm, but he doesn’t release me. “Zay, back the fuck off, or I swear I’m gonna hit you.”
Usually, if I made this threat, he’d more than likely just roll his eyes at me, but he must see something on my face that implies I’m not playing because he slowly lets go of me.
I move to walk out of the room again, but he steps back and sticks his arm out in front of me.
I ball my hands into fists and grind my teeth, ready to yell at him.
“Calm down,” he says, putting his hands up in front of him. “You need to listen to me, okay? I know you want to go out there and see if she’s … her.” He swallows audibly, looking a little frazzled, which is a big deal for Zay. “But think about it.” He lowers his hands to his sides. “If, by some weird chance Raven is … Willow, she probably doesn’t know she is, unless she was lying about having amnesia and is playing us. Both scenarios aren’t good. I mean, if she doesn’t remember and you tell her, you’re going to either trigger her forgotten memories or have to tell her everything that happened, which …” A shaky breath falters from his lips as he stares at the floor and crosses his arms. A crinkle forms between his brows then he lifts his gaze to me. “Do you really want to do that to her? Tell her what happened in that fucking house?”
I smash my lips together and shake my head. “No.”
He blows out an exhale. “And if she does know, then clearly she’s been playing us.”
“Why would she do that?” I whisper. “Willow … Raven, she’s not like that.”
“She wasn’t like that,” Zay stresses. “But we haven’t seen her for years and a lot can change in that time.”
“I know.” I breathe in and out, trying to compose myself. “Why did our fathers tell us she died?”
The muscle in Zay’s jaw pulsates. “Who the hell knows? It could be part of one of their many games, or they may have just wanted to take the one good thing we ever had away from us.”
Silence drifts by, and I can hear my heart hammering inside my chest.
Raven might be Willow.
Willow might be Raven.
Willow might be alive.
“What if Raven is really her?” I whisper.
“What if Raven’s really who?” Hunter appears in the doorway then, his gaze skating between Zay and I. “What the hell happened?” He steps inside the room. “Why do you both look like you just saw a ghost?”
“Because it kind of feels like we did,” I say then take the photo from Zay so I can show Hunter. But I’m interrupted by a scream coming from my phone that I wasn’t even aware I dropped on the floor.
“Shit.” I rush over and pick it up. “Raven?” My voice is shaking. “Raven, what happened?”
Nothing but silence is my answer. At first anyway.
Then someone speaks, and it’s not Raven.
“Do you remember the game?” a guy says into the phone.
Hunter is right beside me at this point. “What the hell is going on?” he hisses.
I move the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker. “What game?”
“Oh, come on, Jaxon; I thought out of the three of you, you were supposed to be the smartest.” The guy on the phone tsks me. “Such a disappointment.” He drags out a pause. “You remember that game our parents talked about playing against each other? The one that defined why your father is supposed to be the most powerful man in Honeyton? Well, I’ve decided to reinstate it.”
My heart thunders in my chest. I’ve often heard stories of the game he’s referring to. My dad bragged about it a lot. Back when he and some of the now current family leaders were in high school, they played this messed-up game where they tried to sabotage, ruin, and even hurt each other. My father and his friends, aka Zay’s and Hunter’s dads, were the cruelest, which is why they’re the most powerful here—because everyone feared them. Some of the stuff they did to the other families was extremely messed up, but I was never surprised by these stories, considering what I had to suffer through during my childhood.
“Fuck this shit,” Zay mumbles then reels around and runs out of the room.
“Who the hell is this?” I growl out as I follow after him with Hunter right behind me. “And why do you have Raven’s phone?”
“I already told you this,” he says. “Me and some of the other family members decided to start the game. Saw an opportunity when we saw you walking around with the new girl. She’s a weak link, you know. But what I really want to know is: why did you three decide to bring her into your little group? You’ve never brought anyone in before, so what’s so special about her?”
My body trembles as a wave of rage crashes over me. I reach the back door, about to step outside. Zay is already sprinting across the backyard toward where we left the car, and Hunter and I take off after him.
“If you so much as lay a finger on her—”
“You’ll what?” he mocks. “Sorry, Jaxon, but I just don’t believe you’re anywhere near as scary as your father. Guess I’ll find out soon when you try to retaliate.”
The line clicks off.
“Fuuck!” I shout as I reach the trees, the car coming into view. “Please say she’s in there. Please say this is all a joke,” I mumble under my breath.
Zay is already beside it and is checking the back seat. Then he lets out a series of curses as he stands up and puts his hands on his head. I know right then and there that Raven is gone. Taken from us. Again.
Hunter looks like he’s about to throw up as he jogs over to the car and gets in on the passenger side, leaving the door open. Then he leans over the back seat, collecting the iPad that Raven had and starts messing around with it.
I rush over to him. “What’re you doing? We need to go find her.”
He taps a few buttons. “Some of the apps and programs I put on her phone when I was trying to track that number for her have a location tracker, so if she keeps the phone on her, we can track where they’re taking her.”
I hold my breath as he checks. I feel like I’m about to explode and want nothing more than to have a razor in my hand right now. But I can’t fixate on cutting myself at the moment. I need to focus everything on finding Raven.
Hunter releases a loud exhale. “Okay, I think she does … At least, it shows that she’s moving.”
Zay stops pacing and lowers his hands from his head. “Let’s go get these fuckers then.”
A tiny bit of relief trickles through me as I jump into the back seat. Zay climbs in and peels out of our hiding spot, taking off down the road.
“Who the hell do you think’s doing this?” I ask as Zay speeds up the car. “Porter?”
“That’s my bet,” Zay utters as he slams down on the gas pedal harder, speeding down the road lined with trees. “I knew it was a bad idea to just bring her into our group.”
“We didn’t just bring her into our group,” Hunter says with his gaze trained on the map on the screen. “She’s been in our group for a long time.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Zay argues, gripping the wheel tightly.
“Make a left right here,” Hunter instructs then steers right back to the conversation. “Maybe we don’t know that for sure, but we need to find out.”
“I know that.” Zay makes another sharp turn when Hunter tells him to again.
My heart, which has been beating like a damn lunatic in my chest, somehow manages to speed up. “Why does it look like we’re heading toward the … the bridge?”
Both of them grow quiet as realization dawns on us.
Whoever has Raven is taking her to the bridge. The bridge where, if she is Willow, she supposedly died. Is it just a coincidence or …?
“Does whoever have her know she might be Willow?” I state my fear aloud.
None of us say anything, but our si
lence is enough for me to know that they’re thinking the same thing. And when we turn onto the dirt road that leads to the old bridge that Willow and I once tried to escape on, my worst nightmare is right in front of me as I spot Raven standing on the ledge of that bridge with a masked man right behind her.
And just like that, I feel like I’m six years old again and am about to watch one of my best friends die.
I don’t think.
I just act.
Jumping out of the car, I run toward the river like my—her—life depends on it.
This time, I’m not going to let this happen.
This time, I’m going to save her.
12
Raven
I’m in a large room with a massive, domed ceiling and a huge light decorated with crystals hanging from it. I feel in awe as I take everything in—the paintings on the walls, the fireplace, the way the air smells like cinnamon.
“This place is so big,” I tell my dad as I turn in a circle, taking everything in.
He nods, seemingly distracted as he glances at his phone. “Yeah, I know it is, Ravenlee.”
He’s called me Ravenlee three times since we arrived at this strange house in the middle of nowhere and hasn’t given me an explanation as to why we’re here. The large guys who greeted us at the entryway led us into this room before wandering off after telling us not to go anywhere.
I haven’t seen the scarred boy that one of the men called “Kid” since he wandered into the house. Honestly, I haven’t seen anyone besides my dad since the men left us here. I haven’t heard anything either.
This place is spookily quiet.
I chew on my thumbnail. “How long do we have to stay here?”
“I’m not sure.” His frown deepens as he reads something on the screen, worry written all over his face.
“Daddy?” I ask, starting to get really worried. “What’s wrong?”
He glances up at me, his face really pale. “Ravenlee, I’m so sorry that this …” He trails off as a tall man with dark hair enters the room. Then he swallows hard.
Something’s very wrong.
“I’m glad to see you made it,” the man says to my dad then glances at me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“Did I really have a choice?” Dad mutters in an annoyed tone.
“No, but some men in your position might do something stupid, like try to run,” the man replies. “Glad to see you aren’t one of those men. I didn’t particularly feel like chasing anyone down today.” He glances at me again with a curious look on his face.
Wanting him to stop looking at me, I inch behind my dad.
A trace of a smile touches the man’s lips, as if my move amuses him. “She’s afraid of me,” he muses. “Smart girl.”
As a cold chill rolls through my body, I grab my dad’s hand. “Daddy?” I whisper. “Why does he want me to be afraid of him?”
He grips my hand tightly in a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry about it.” He sounds the complete opposite of his words.
The air grows quiet as the man sinks into silence, staring at me like I’m a complex puzzle he desperately wants to solve.
“We should get this done,” he finally says, looking at my dad. “Leave the girl here and come join me in my office for a drink. I’ll have Kid brought in.”
I have no idea what’s going on, but I grasp my dad’s hand desperately. “Don’t leave me,” I beg.
He glances down at me with remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ravenlee.” Then he pries my hand out of his. “Stay here,” he orders in a cold tone I’ve never heard him use before.
Tears burn my eyes as he starts to walk away.
When he notices I’m about to cry, he sighs, walks back to me, and crouches down so his gaze is level with mine. “Suck it up, Ravenlee,” he says in a quiet but firm tone. “Crying makes us weak. Do you want to be weak, or do you want to be strong like your mom and me?”
I shake my head and sniffle, trying to suck back the tears. “Strong.”
He offers me a small but sad smile. “Good girl.” Then he stands up and walks away without a glance back.
I watch him leave with my fingers curled into fists and my stomach winding into knots, but my eyes are dry.
Once the man and my dad leave the room, I move to sit down on the sofa, not sure what I’m supposed to do. But before I can sit completely down, the door is opened and a woman with long, red hair walks in. She’s wearing a black dress, a lot of sparkly jewelry, and her hair is done up like she’s going someplace fancy. She’s also not alone.
The sad boy with the scar trails in behind her, the boy everyone keeps referring to as Kid. He looks even sadder than before, which doesn’t even seem possible.
As the woman with the red hair walks toward me, she assesses me with a curious look on her face, like I’m some weird creature she’s never seen before.
“So, you’re the little girl everyone’s been fussing over?” She stops in front of me and tilts her head. “Honestly, I don’t see what the big deal is. You don’t even look like her. Makes me wonder if you’re really hers or if he was just bullshitting everyone. He does have a reputation for being a liar.”
“So do you, Diane,” the boy says with a shake of his head.
Her lips twitch in annoyance. “You little shit …” She trails off, putting on a sugary sweet smile. “You know what? Say whatever you want about me. At least I’m not a monster.”
The kid smashes his lips together, his gaze shifting to me, and I swear I see remorse in his eyes.
“What’s going on?” I speak. “Who are you guys? And where’s my dad?”
The woman’s attention returns to me, the smile still on her face. “What’s going on is that you’re about to pay your whore of a mother’s debt.”
Anger burns under my skin as I curl my hand into a fist. “Don’t call my mother that!”
The woman smirks at the sight of my balled-up fist. “Are you seriously thinking about hitting me? You’re just a kid—”
I step forward and punch her in the stomach.
She grunts, her face contorting in pain. “You little brat,” she seethes then starts to storm toward me.
“Diane,” Kid calls out. “If you touch her, the bosses are gonna be pissed off.”
She slams to a halt, breathing furiously as she glares at me then at Kid. “Fuck off,” she spats but doesn’t move toward me again.
Bosses? What does that mean?
I’m about to ask when the woman suddenly relaxes, the tension leaving her body.
“You know what? I don’t need to listen to this shit. I was told to bring you here and nothing more.” She turns, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she starts to leave. “You know what to do,” she says as she passes Kid, and he visibly tenses.
Smirking, she strolls out of the room and shuts the door behind her.
Silence stretches between us as Kid just stands there with his hands balled into fists and his gaze fastened on the floor.
Finally, I can’t take the silence anymore. “Your name’s Kid, right?” I ask.
Shaking his head, he looks up at me. “No.”
“Oh.” I’m so confused. “But everyone keeps calling you that?”
“I know,” he says flatly.
“Why do they call you that if it’s not your name?”
He shrugs, not saying a word, just staring at me.
The silence is making me uncomfortable, so I try to think of something to say to him.
“Well, my name’s Ravenlee,” I tell him. “But almost everyone calls me Raven.”
He studies me for a moment. “I have a pet raven.”
“Really?” I ask, stepping toward him. “How the heck did you get one of those for a pet?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I caught it.”
“That’s really cool. Is it here? Maybe you can show it to me.”
He shakes his head. “It’s at my house.”
“This isn’t your house?” I
ask, and he shakes his head. “Whose is it?”
He frowns. “The boss’s.”
“Who the heck is that?”
He seems to grow nervous, scratching the back of his neck. “No one you want to know.”
“Oh.” I pause. “Do you know why I’m here?”
He swallows hard, not answering me. It grows quiet again, and that sad look returns to his face.
Honestly, the only time he didn’t look sad was when he was talking about his pet raven.
“Um … What’s your raven’s name?” I ask, hoping he’ll relax again and maybe tell me why the heck I’m at this house.
He lifts a shoulder. “I haven’t named it.”
“Well, you should,” I say. “Every pet needs a name.”
“Giving names to things make us weak,” he mutters automatically.
“No way,” I disagree, stepping toward him. “Naming things is really fun, especially pets, because you can name them just about anything. Like this one time I named this stray cat Cat. Although, he wasn’t really my pet. He just wandered into my backyard sometimes.”
“You named a cat Cat?” he questions.
I shrug, smiling a bit. “I thought it was funny.”
“And you like to be funny?” He seems confused by this.
I shrug again. “I like to be a lot of things, but yeah, I like being funny sometimes … Why do you seem so confused about that?”
He lifts a shoulder, staring at me like he’s completely mystified. “It’s just that you … I don’t know … You seem … happy?”
“And that’s confusing?”
He shrugs again.
The boy really likes to shrug.
“Well, I am happy sometimes,” I inform him. “Just like I’m sad sometimes. And angry. And scared. That’s totally normal.”
A crinkle forms between his brows. “Not in my world.” Then he sighs loudly. “Look, I can’t name my raven anything or else my dad will get mad at me.”
“Really?” I ask, and he nods. “Your dad’s really strict then.”
“Yeah, he is,” he agrees in a hollow tone.
I get the feeling his dad is a really mean guy. No wonder he looks so sad all the time.
The Rules of Being Friends (A Pact Between the Forgotten Series Book 2) Page 11
