Chapter 1
Runaway
Myairporttransferbuspulls into the dingy stop at the end of Ravens Hollow Main Street as I hum along to one of my all-time favorites, Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.” The street before me has me utterly captivated, so much so that when we drove by the sign to The Raven’s Nest club, I even got a flutter of excitement run right through me. The streetlight above the bus stop flickers a few times, then it goes out completely. As I stare into the dark, a small shiver runs over my arms; it’s a little creepy, but my heart is still filled with hope for my fresh start, and I refuse to let a broken light dim myexcitement.
The burly driver turns back toward me, and when I glance over my shoulder, I find I’m the only passenger left. I slide my earphones down to my neck so I can hear what he’s trying to say.
“Last stop, love. This is Ravens Hollow.” His cheery voice beams down the aisle, his grin toward me contagious.
A nervous flutter takes flight throughout my body. It’s late, like close to midnight, and the only people hanging around are… Actually, I don’t see any people around at all, and that thought makes my palms grow sweaty. The street is completely empty except for a few cars and motorbikes parked up both sides. The neon sign of The Raven’s Nest calls my name from just over the other side of the street, filling me with as much hope as dread.
Moving halfway across the world felt like a brilliant idea a few days ago when I was feeling trapped, or should I say when I was literally trapped in my parents’ country estate. But now that I’m staring reality in the face, I’m not so sure I made the best decision. The truth is, I have never been alone in the world before. For the last five years I had my husband and his guards at my side, before that, my brother or papa. I was a sheltered little mafia princess through and through, and as much as I hated that existence, it was also protected in a way. Everyone knew who I belonged to and what would happen to them if they even so much as looked in my direction.
Inhaling deeply, I stand from my seat and take my duffle bag out of the overhead compartment, slinging it over my shoulder. It’s damn heavy and literally contains all my most important possessions, well, as much as I could shove in it in my rush after I made the snap decision to escape the quaint country village my brother shipped me off to with my parents a month ago.
My beloved eighties playlist hits my ears even from my headphones’ position on my neck. The words of Bonnie Tyler’s “HoldingOut for a Hero” thump through me as I take each step down the aisle of the bus, filling me with confidence and encouraging me to forge ahead. The last thing I need is a hero of any kind, but there is just something so motivating in the beat of her music. It has me smiling to myself and feeling a little braver already. You can do this, Daisy. Go start your new life.
“Good luck, miss. Be careful out there, them streets aren’t safe,” the driver calls as I pass by him and take the steps down to the damp street.
“Thank you.” I offer a positive smile as I hike my bag up higher on my shoulder. You’ve got this, Daisy. All you have to do is march your way into The Raven’s Nest, demand to see Sloane Stryker, and not leave until she gives you a job. She owes you as much. It’s a simple plan, foolproof even.
The bus takes off, with a wave from the overly friendly driver. I hope the rest of this country is just as kind as he was to me in the small time I knew him on my journey from the airport. I watch his bus until it disappears around the corner at the end of the street, fading into the shadows. A sudden chill comes over me as I stare back at the mostly empty street in front of me. I zip my jacket all the way to my neck. My soft chiffon dress had felt like a good idea when I boarded the plane fifteen hours ago, but now in the middle of the night, not so much. I tug my headphones back over my ears, needing the confidence the music provides as much as I need the break from the cold.
The full moon lights the way as I stride toward her club. Sloane better be there, or else I’m kind of screwed. Getting a job with her is literally my only plan in coming to Ravens Hollow. I haven’t even organized accommodations yet, that’s how much I haven’t thought this brilliant idea through, but sometimes you just have to go with your gut, and when I overheard my papa talking to my older brotherDante about possible new husbands for me, I just knew I had to run the hell away and never look back. My current husband hasn’t even been missing a week yet, and they are marrying me off again.
I look both ways before crossing the street quickly, hugging my duffle bag closer to my chest for warmth and comfort. In my head, I had envisioned what Ravens Hollow was like, some picturesque town that would embrace me with open arms. And maybe during the day it is, but at this time of night, it’s spooky as hell. The streets, slick with the remnants of a fresh shower, reflect the looming shop windows and flickering streetlights. There is also a distinct smell of cigarette smoke in the air, which is odd since I can’t see another soul. I glance over my shoulder and move a little faster. Not that I’m scared, I’m not, it’s just got this chilling feel to it, like evil is lurking around the next corner or like I’m being watched.
My playlist changes to “Show Me Heaven,” and I let myself get lost in the lyrics, letting them take away the now persistent churning of my stomach as the song moves through my body. As if dancing, I walk, moving to the rhythm. For me, dancing is life, and music is the essence that runs through my veins.
My bag falls to the street below as a warm hand flies over my mouth and a firm arm wraps around my middle, knocking the air from my lungs at its sudden impact. My eyes widen in horror, searching my surroundings, only to find dark blue eyes scowling back at me in a way that sends fear rocketing right down my spine. While I was busy in my little world, focused on the neon sign of the club and tuned out to my playlist, I was blindly unaware of what was going on right in front of me. At the alleyway’s dim end, near Sloane’s club, three goons in emblem jackets with skulls on them, hold a couple of terrified men hostage, cold gun barrels pressed against their temples.
My heart leaps in my chest, and I fight to escape the thug’s brutal grip. My struggle only makes his lips twist up at the sides and amusement dance in his eyes.
The hand covering my mouth shifts so he can lower my headphones off my ears. His eyes lock with mine as he holds me impossibly close to his body, so near I can feel every one of the bulging muscles he’s hiding under his thin black T-shirt. He smells of leather and cigarettes, in a bad boy way that I know means danger. His breath ghosts over my ear ever so lightly, making me suck in a ragged breath. “Stay quiet for me, little darlin',” he murmurs, his voice dark, holding an edge that makes goosebumps dance over my skin. Not because it scares me but because it sounds almost playful, and I have no idea why.
One of their guns goes off with a pop, and I know why he told me to stay quiet. He knew they were about to kill the poor man. A scream rips from my lips, his warning not enough to stop the sound, when the reality of what I’m witnessing kicks in. Am I about to be next?
Cold sweat coats my body as the brute drags me further into the shadows with him, his powerful frame surrounding me as he shoves me back into a solid brick wall. He cages me in, still with his fingers locked tightly over my mouth, muffling the pure terror trying to escape my lips. He glares down at me, his floppy sandy-blond hair hanging over his eyes in a way that makes him look all mysterious. “That wasn’t very smart,” he growls, his tone more deadly this time.
I blink up at him, frozen to the spot. I know I should try to fight him off and make a run for it, but I’m trapped in his hold and the erratic energy his body exudes.
He tilts his head, his piercing eyes eating up every inch of my face, a warmth in them I didn’t expect to see, when the rest of his expression can only be described as deranged. His jawline is scruffy, his face is a map of scars, piercings, and the hint of tattoos that tell of life in crime,or at the very least some serious brawls, with the faded black eye he’s sporting and what looks like a split lip right beside his piercing. But his eyes stay locked with mine; they dance with excitement in a way they just shouldn’t right now. Like this is fun for him. He takes a quick glance over his shoulder, then lowers his face to mine so he’s just a breath away from my lips.
Uncertain of his next move, I suck in a shaky breath, trying to get my body to relax. I’m so damn tense my teeth ache.
“Let’s see if you can obey this time. Don’t scream, or I will have to gag you.” His voice is low, just a whisper, but I hear the threat and will my body to comply.
Another couple of shots go off, piercing my ears with their finality. My entire body quivers, and tears spring to my eyes, I can’t stop them. But I keep the scream threatening to escape locked up tight, not wanting to anger him any more and be next on his kill list.
He grins at me, all psychotic. He knows I’m scared shitless, and it’s like he’s getting off on the thought. Just my dumb luck, I step off the bus, ready to start my new life away from violence, and not ten steps away from the door to The Raven’s Nest, I’m caught up in some mess with some local biker gang.
“What the fuck is this?” comes another male voice, filled with authority in a way that makes me shiver. His dark eyes rake over me, taking in every detail. This guy is taller, with darker hair and ink that runs all the way down to his fingers. He also has a slight splattering of blood littering his stubbly jaw.
I gag, the sight of the blood turning my stomach and making the brutal men in front of me blur. I try to focus on the details of his face so I don’t pass out. But he glares at me over his fellow thug’s shoulder, like he hates me, his eyes sinister, but his lips twisted menacingly. It’s unnerving and doesn’t ease the sickness coursing through me.
“Witness,” is all the first guy says, like this situation I find myself in is some kind of normal to them. He’s still smiling at me, if what he is doing could really be called a smile. If he were a wild beast, I could imagine this would be the exact look he gives his prey right before he tears its head off and eats it.
“I didn’t see anything,” I blubber through his barbaric hold on me, but the words come out all muffled and fused together, and I know there is no way they will make them out.
