33. Raven

Chapter 33

Raven

W ith a final swipe of the sponge over the gleaming granite countertop, I set the kitchen in order after making dinner and doing the dishes. Jerome went upstairs to take a quick shower, and I thought best to get this done now. I straightened, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension that had settled there—not from the cleaning, but from the constant vigilance I'd been forced into since my life had taken a turn into the inexplicable and dangerous.

Almost done. I glanced around the immaculate space that reflected my hard-earned success. My gaze landed on the trashcan, its lid askew with refuse peeking out like an accusation of neglect in my otherwise pristine environment.

"Ugh, can't leave it like that." I pulled off the cleaning gloves and tossed them onto the counter. The simple act of taking out the garbage was now a calculated risk, but I wouldn't allow fear to paralyze me.

I strode to the cupboard under the sink, retrieving a fresh trash bag with a snap of my wrist. You've got this . I approached the can, deftly pulling the overstuffed bag free and tying it with practiced efficiency.

Let's hope this is the biggest problem I'll face tonight.

My movements were swift as I moved towards the back door, mind always half a step ahead, planning my route, preparing for any potential threat. The alleyway would be dimly lit at this hour, the shadows stretching long and ominous.

Remember, just a quick drop-off and then back inside .

The door creaked on its hinges as I breached the threshold into the alley, my silhouette a stark contrast to the weak spill of light from the kitchen. The night air wrapped around me like a chill shawl, and I shivered, not entirely from the cold. The alley's gloom felt thicker tonight, charged with an invisible current that prickled at the edges of my consciousness.

Probably just jumpy after everything .

A rustling noise from a nearby dumpster made me halt mid-step, my heart skipping a beat. Rats. Normal, stop freaking out.

Then it happened.

The screech of tires sliced through the silence, shattering the fragile calm. I spun around, instincts flaring to life. My eyes widened as the harsh glare of headlights bore down on me, rooting me to the spot for a split second.

"Who—?" The question died on my lips, unfinished and unheard over the growling engine that invaded the alley's quiet. A vehicle, black and nondescript, had come to an abrupt stop mere feet from where I stood.

My mind raced, cataloging options, escape routes, potential weapons. I wasn't defenseless—my training saw to that—but the unexpectedness of the situation left me momentarily scattered.

"Can't be a coincidence, but who would go to such lengths? What did they want from me?

Jerome came to mind. The vigilant bodyguard brought a measure of comfort, but he was elsewhere, believing me safe within the confines of my home. Now, I was exposed, vulnerable.

God, please let him sense something's wrong .

The pulse in my throat was a rapid drumbeat, each throb echoing the terror that had seized me. My breath came sharp and erratic as the blinding lights seemed to pin me in place—a deer caught in headlights, but it was the darkness beyond them that terrified me.

Back inside . My muscles tensed to spring me back to the safety of the kitchen.

I took a decisive step backward, my sneakers scraping against the gritty ground. But before I could pivot and flee, the vehicle sprang to life in a different way—the sound of doors flinging open shattered my momentary hope for escape.

"Who are you?" My voice cracked like a whip through the night, assertive despite the cold dread that laced my spine. I squinted past the glare, trying to make out the figures now stepping out with choreographed precision.

"Stay back!" The command was forceful, the product of years of standing my ground on set—my tone left no room for doubt or negotiation. But these were not adversaries that could be swayed by a strong will alone.

The two figures advanced, their movements synchronized and deliberate, their faces obscured behind masks that transformed them into faceless threats. My heart lurched at the sight; these were not random thugs—they were hunters, and I was the prey.

"Think, think..." I scanned the alley once more, desperate for anything that could be used to my advantage. My mind, usually so clear and focused, now felt as though it was wading through molasses under the weight of fear. But panic was a luxury I couldn't afford—not when every second counted.

"Come any closer, and I swear..." My threat hung in the air, unfinished—I didn't know how I'd finish it. I couldn't let them take me, couldn't succumb to the terror that clawed at my chest. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, ready to fight if it came to that.

"Help! Somebody—"

My plea was cut short, a hand clamping over my mouth with brute force. My eyes widened in shock; the skin against my lips felt rough, the unmistakable smell of leather invading my senses. The assailant's grip was unyielding, fingers digging into my cheeks as if to suffocate the very life out of me.

"Shh," hissed a voice laced with menace. "Not a sound."

My heart thrashed against my ribcage like a wild bird trapped in a cage. This can't be happening. Not now. Not after everything I've fought for. Jerome, where are you?

I tried to bite down, to fight back any way I could, but the hand was positioned in a way that kept my jaws from gaining the leverage they needed. The other figure moved with a predator's grace, opening the vehicle's back door in a swift motion. The interior loomed before me—a dark void waiting to swallow me whole.

No, no, no . I struggled against the iron hold, the muffled sounds of my defiance lost beneath the heavy palm. You're Raven Fields. This is not your end.

"Easy," the second figure cooed mockingly, reaching for me with an eagerness that chilled me to the bone. "You're coming with us."

Their intentions were clear, their movements practiced. But my spirit wouldn't yield so easily, my resolve fortified by every challenge I'd ever faced. I wouldn't let the darkness take me without a fight—even if it was with nothing more than the silent scream in my eyes.

"Let go of me!"

The attacker grunted, the sound barely audible as I landed a solid kick to their shin. Pain flashed across the figure's obscured face, but they held on, their grip tightening like a vise. I could hear the ragged cadence of my own breaths, feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, yet it wasn't enough.

"Stop squirming," the figure growled.

I clawed at the gloved hands, nails raking in search of skin, of any purchase that might give me an edge. My world had narrowed to this moment—my will against theirs. But even as I struggled, a cold realization settled in; my attacker was well-trained, unfazed by my ferocity.

Suddenly, a surge of strength—or perhaps sheer desperation—propelled me forward, loosening the ironclad hold for a mere second. It was all I needed. With a wrenching motion, I tore herself away, gasping for air and space.

Before I could process my next move, let alone make a run for it, strong arms encircled my waist from behind. The second figure's grasp was unyielding as they dragged me back, each step toward the vehicle pounding a beat of utter dread into my heart.

"Please, no!" My voice broke free, raw and laced with terror. I knew pleading was useless, but the words spilled out nonetheless, a reflex born from the depths of my fear.

The back door of the vehicle gaped open like the maw of some great beast, ready to consume her. They were so close now; I could smell the stale scent of the car's interior mingling with the night air.

"Stay still," the figure hissed, their breath hot against my ear. "This can be easy, or this can be hard."

Like hell it will . But my captor's determination matched my own, and slowly, inexorably, I felt myself being pulled into the darkness.

"Get in," one of the figures growled, shoving me harder.

Someone has to see this. Someone has to notice.

"Quiet," the masked figure snapped, giving me a rough push that sent me tumbling into the backseat.

My head spun, and for a moment, the world narrowed to a pinprick of light as I fought to maintain consciousness. As I scrambled upright, the last thing I saw before the figure leaned in after me was the alley—a narrow corridor of desperation—my last connection to the outside world.

The thud of the doors closing reverberated through my body, a chilling punctuation to my fate. The vehicle lurched into motion, snatching away my last glimpse of the alley and catapulting me into darkness.

"Who are you? What do you want?" My voice echoed in the cramped space, a tone laced with both fear and the steel of my resolve.

"Shut up," the figure beside me hissed, his breath foul against my cheek.

It could be anyone—jealous rivals, obsessed fans, someone with a vendetta against my success. But why? Why now?

"Is it ransom you're after?"

"Quiet!" the figure in front snapped, and the other one tightened his grip on my arm, a silent threat.

"Ouch!" The sharp pain brought clarity, and with it, a surge of adrenaline. I had survived too much to crumble now. Every setback, every challenge I'd faced in my climb to the top had fortified my spirit. They may have thought they'd captured just another damsel in distress, but I was no such cliché.

"Okay... okay. You've made your point. You have me."

"Smart girl," came the gruff reply, but there was tension in the air—a coiled readiness that suggested complacency was far from their minds.

Without my phone, without a way to communicate, I might as well be a ghost. I shifted slightly, testing my captors' reactions, assessing my chances. I needed a plan, an opportunity.

"Please. Just tell me what you want."

"Time will reveal all," the figure beside me said, a cold amusement in his tone.

"Time might be a luxury I don't have," I countered silently, my mind working furiously. Whoever these people were, they knew what they were doing. Professional, deliberate. That much was clear.

The streetlights became blurry streaks as they shot past, the world outside morphing into an indistinct haze. Trapped within the steel confines, I was nothing more than cargo, yet my mind remained defiantly free, flickering with thoughts of escape and survival.

"Where are you taking me?" I demanded, voice steady despite the tremor I felt. The masked figures offered no response, their silence as cold and impenetrable as the walls that enclosed me.

My thoughts twisted and turned, landing on Jerome. His face, usually so stoic and unreadable, flickered in my mind's eye—a beacon of hope in a sea of dread. Jerome, you have to find me.

He wasn't just a former military operative; he was a man of action, a protector forged in the fires of conflict. If anyone could navigate the treacherous currents, I now found myself in, it was him.

Jerome would say stay calm, assess the situation . I clung to his voice now, using it as an anchor, allowing it to guide my racing heart toward something resembling composure.

He had taught me well—how to read a room, how to spot an exit. Now, I needed to channel his lessons more than ever.

"Please," I tried again, this time my plea a whisper, "if you're going to hurt me, just get it over with."

A snicker from the front seat was the only acknowledgement I received, a sound that sent chills down my spine. My fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palms. They expected me to be afraid, to beg and cry. But I was no damsel in distress; I was a force to be reckoned with—a storm quietly gathering strength.

Jerome will come for me. He won't rest until I'm safe . Yes, I was frightened, but I was far from defeated. And with Jerome Dawson out there, somewhere, searching for me, she held onto the belief that this was not where my story would end.

"Help! Somebody help me!" My voice was raw, crackling with both terror and defiance. I screamed again, louder, my throat burning with the effort as I thrashed against the restraints they'd fastened around my wrists.

"Quiet down back there!" barked the larger of the two men, glancing over his shoulder with eyes like flint. I could only see the outline of his jaw, set hard and unyielding, but I didn't need to see more to know that these men meant business.

"Let me go!" I spat out the demand, words slicing through the tense air. I knew the chances of being heard were slim, but I refused to succumb to silence.

"Shut her up, will you?" The driver's voice was tinged with annoyance, his focus never leaving the road as they hurtled down yet another obscure alley.

"Can't," the other man grunted, his attention fixed on the rearview mirror. "He's behind us."

"Who? Who's behind us?" I demanded, though the captors ignored me. Confusion swirled within me, mingling with the fear. I writhed, trying to catch a glimpse through the tinted windows, but all I saw were blurred streetlights streaking by in the night.

"Damn it," the driver cursed under his breath, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. "Faster!"

The car accelerated, and my stomach lurched as if plummeting from a great height. The world outside became an indistinct blur, and inside, the tension was a palpable thing, wrapping around me like a second skin.

"Focus on losing him," the larger man said, his voice a low growl. "I'll deal with her if I have to."

Like hell you will. I wasn't just a victim; I was Raven Fields, and if there was a way out of this, I would find it. There was no room for surrender in my world.

"Shut her up before I do it permanently," the larger man hissed, a note of menace threading through his words.

My breath caught in my throat—not just from fear, but from a flicker of recognition. The voice... I had heard it before, hadn't I? It was rough like gravel, yet there was an odd familiarity to it that gnawed at the edges of my memory. I racked my brain, trying to place it, but panic clouded my thoughts. Where? When?

"Focus!" the other kidnapper snapped. "We've got more pressing issues."

The vehicle lurched violently to the right, throwing me against the door with bruising force as we careened down a narrow alley. I could hear the scuffle of trash cans and the clamor of disturbed rats echoing off the walls. The kidnappers were desperate, their movements erratic.

"Left, left now!" The growl was unmistakable now—tinged with urgency—and I swore I knew that voice. But how? In the high stakes world of business I navigated daily or a fragment from my past?

"Keep your head on straight," the driver spat back, jerking the wheel again. "He's still on us!"

"Who's chasing us?" I demanded, my own voice sharp with both anger and dread. My question went unanswered.

Through the grimy window, I glimpsed shadowy figures flitting by, a dizzying dance of darkness and light as the car zigzagged through the backstreets. They were trying to shake someone, but who? And why did it feel like I should know the answer?

"Can't this thing go any faster?" The larger man was practically snarling now, the threat in his voice tempered by something else—fear?

"Trust me, you don't want to mess with him," the driver replied, a tremor in his voice betraying his composure.

My mind raced, grappling with the fragments of my memory, trying to piece together the puzzle even as my body was tossed about by the relentless pursuit. My heart hammered against my ribs. Fear mingled with frustration. If I could just remember...

"Is he still there?" It was more of a plea than a question, the words sharp and desperate.

"Quit asking stupid questions and hold on!" The driver barked back, the sound of the engine roaring as we shot out of the alley and onto a wider street.

"Who are you afraid of?" I pressed, a voice laced with defiance. I wouldn't let them see me crumble; and no matter what, I would confront my fears head-on—even if I didn't fully understand them yet.

"Doesn't matter," the gravelly voice grunted. "You won't be around to find out."

But I wasn't about to give up—not on finding out who was behind the voice, not on escaping, and certainly not on surviving. I was determined to unravel the mystery, even as the car sped onward into the depths of the night.

The vehicle lurched violently, a beast of steel and momentum careening through the city's veins. My breaths came in short, sharp bursts—a staccato rhythm to the surrounding cacophony.

"Sharp turn, watch it!"

My body slammed against the door, the seatbelt biting into my shoulder. The chaos of the chase manifested in the very air I breathed; my lungs filled with the acrid scent of burning rubber as the vehicle's tires screeched, clawing at the asphalt in desperation.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Another voice, strained with panic, punctuated the relentless drumming of my heart—each beat a thunderous echo in my chest.

"Shut up and let me drive," the driver snapped back.

Outside, the world was a smear of lights and shadows, the landscape a mere backdrop to the frenzied flight. Inside, the confined space became a prison of sound and fury, every jolt and twist magnifying my fear.

"Left, left, LEFT!" The command was a guttural shout, barely human.

The vehicle veered sharply, throwing me against the constraints that held me, the sensation merging with the pounding in my chest—an unyielding symphony of terror. The kidnappers were locked in their own battle, one with the wheel and the road, another with the looming threat that chased them down each alley and avenue.

"Who is he? Why is he after us?" My question went unanswered, lost amidst the roar of the engine and the screech of tires carving desperate paths through the night.

"Focus!" the driver growled, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

My thoughts spiraled, mind grappling with the unknown voice, the hidden face behind the pursuit. The intensity of the situation was palpable, like a living entity within the confines of the fleeing car, feeding off my escalating fear. And still, they drove—faster, harder, deeper into an abyss of uncertainty and peril.

My breath came in sharp gasps, each inhale laced with the stench of fear and sweat. I twisted her wrists, feeling the bite of the zip ties that bound my hands behind my back. My fingers tingled, numb yet desperate to find some sliver of slack.

"Stop squirming," hissed a voice from the front seat, but I ignored it. Adrenaline surged through my veins, fueling my resolve. I refused to be a passive victim in this high-speed nightmare.

I angled my body, trying to maneuver my legs beneath me. If I could just get my feet under, maybe I could throw myself at one of them—cause enough of a distraction to—

The vehicle lurched, and my head snapped forward, stars bursting across my vision. Pain shot through my scalp where my hair was yanked back mercilessly.

"Sit. Down!" The command was punctuated by another violent tug.

"Let me go!" My voice cracked as I screamed, throat raw. I kicked out blindly, my boot connecting with something solid.

"Damn it!" A different voice this time, tinged with anger. "She's not worth the trouble!"

"Shut up and drive," grunted the first kidnapper.

My heart pounded, each beat echoing the relentless pace of the chase outside. I knew I couldn't stop fighting—not now, not ever. With every turn and swerve, I searched for an opportunity, any opening that might present itself.

"Please," I tried a different tactic, injecting a quiver into my tone. "What do you want? Money? Is that it?"

"Quiet," the driver said tersely, a note of finality in his voice.

My plea went unheeded, but I had learned something crucial—the sound of fear in my voice gave me power, even if it was the power to annoy, to distract. I stored this knowledge away like a weapon, ready for the right moment to strike.

"Watch it!" the second man barked as the vehicle narrowly missed a dumpster.

"Doing my best!" the driver snapped back, the tension between the two men palpable in the cramped space.

I felt the car accelerate, the engine's growl rising to a fever pitch. They were running out of time, out of options, and I knew it. But so did they. That shared desperation crackled in the air, electrifying and dangerous.

N ext time he turns, I'm going to make a break for it . It was a long shot—a suicidal one—but it was all I had.

"Can't shake him!" the driver cursed, his voice strained. "He's not giving up!"

The vehicle veered sharply, throwing me against the cold metal of its interior again. The aggressive driving tactics were desperate and dangerous, telling me without words that the kidnappers were feeling the pressure. Tires squealed as the driver executed another erratic turn, the sound a sharp cry in the night that mirrored the terror in my chest.

"Left, left, LEFT!" He shouted from the passenger seat, their usually controlled tone now edged with panic. The car lurched to obey.

"Damn it, he's still on us!" the driver growled, his knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel.

"Keep it together. If we lose him, we're clear."

"Easy for you to say," the driver spat back. "I'm the one playing tag with the Grim Reaper out here!"

I seized on the momentary discord among my captors. I had to remember that fear affected them too; it was a chink in their armor, a weakness I might yet exploit.

Then, without warning, the world outside the car exploded in light and sound. Sirens wailed, joining the cacophony, the noise vibrating through the very air.

"Police checkpoint!" the driver cursed, slamming on the brakes.

"Go through it!"

"Are you crazy? We'll—"

"Do it!"

The vehicle surged forward, the engine roaring in protest. I braced myself, closing my eyes tight, expecting impact, expecting pain.

But instead of a crash, there was a sudden silence as the car seemed to hang in midair for a timeless second. Then the world turned upside down, the screech of metal on asphalt filling my ears as they collided with something solid, the force tossing me like a rag doll.

As darkness clawed at the edges of my consciousness, my last coherent thought was a name, a whisper on my lips. "Jerome..."

The car came to a rest, the sirens fading into a dull echo. I lay still, disoriented, trying to piece together what had happened. All around me was quiet—a quiet that was far too heavy, far too still.

"Raven..." a voice called out, faint and distorted as if underwater. "Raven, can you hear me?"

"Jerome?" I tried to call back, but my voice was a mere thread of sound.

"Stay with me, Raven."

I fought to open my eyes, to see who was speaking, but before the darkness claimed me entirely, I heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked.

"End of the line, sweetheart."