21. Raven

Chapter twenty-one

Raven

Freedom—what a joke. It’s strange to even think of the word, let alone feel it.

The moment I step outside the mansion's doors, the crisp air rushes through my lungs. Ezra, in his rare generosity, has given me a pass to venture into the outside world. Maybe my plan is finally working, or maybe the gunshot in his arm is affecting his brain.

Either way, the condition of this brief “freedom” is his men shadowing my every move.

I walk down the steps, their presence heavy behind me as I climb into the black SUV. The doors slam shut, sealing me inside with two guards in the front seats.

The silence is suffocating. They wear dark sunglasses, but I can feel their eyes on me, watching me through the rearview mirror.

Always watching, but for once, I don’t mind.

A tiny smile creeps into my face as I angle my head against the window while the city streets blur past, the wind sending my loose strands in every direction.

Even though I can’t shake the suspicion that he only allowed this outing to keep me from pestering him about finishing his dose, I can't deny the thrill of being outside.

The contradiction lingers—this freedom feels like a trap—but after so long indoors, I can’t help but savor the rush of excitement coursing through my bones.

The car pulls up to the shopping district’s garage, and as I step out, I feel the weight of eyes on me. The cartel men pretend to give me space, but I know they’re within reach. Not that anyone would know—their vintage shirts and khaki shorts blend in with the crowd like any other group of people.

For the first time in weeks, I’m among people. The city feels so alive. The hum of traffic, the low chatter of people passing by, the scent of street food hanging in the air—it all feels overwhelming after so long inside. I continue to walk, my eyes taking in the scenery as I do so.

The streets are crowded, and for a brief moment, I imagine running– disappearing into the crowd– but the fantasy is fleeting.

I’ll never make it far. I’ll be hunted down and caught. I just know it.

Exhaling lightly, I feel the tension between my shoulders ease just a little. It’s not real freedom—not with the guards shadowing me like ghosts—but it’s something. And I’ll take anything over the suffocating walls of that mansion—anything to feel like I still have a shred of control over my own life.

The shops ahead beckon, their bright windows offering an illusion of normalcy. I step inside one of them and pick a shopping cart, pretending for just a moment that I’m like everyone else. A woman in a frumpy red dress browsing through shelves. A woman with choices. A woman who isn’t living under the control of a dangerous man who could take her life with a single command.

I move between aisles, my fingers brushing against fabric, body washes—everything I could grab— and put them in my cart. But then I see it. I swallow thickly, glancing at the small pregnancy test kit box that stares back at me from the shelf, quiet and unassuming.

I’d gotten a birth control shot before the fundraiser, but as I stare at the unassuming box, I can't help but wonder when I had my last period. Without my period tracker app, it’s hard to tell if it’s truly late or just irregular.

Over the past few days, I’ve had mild headaches, slight nausea, and a faint backache—nothing serious. Those are my usual pre-menstrual symptoms, so it’s nothing…Right?

My heart slowly picks up a harsh pace, and I shudder at the thought lurking in the back of my mind. It can’t be. I’ve experienced late periods before, I’ve even missed a month, and I was fine. But it’s better safe than sorry. It’s best to have it since I don’t know when I’ll next have the opportunity of freedom.

Just not here, though. It’ll stick out like a sore thumb among these products. So I decide to get it at a pharmacy instead, where I can tuck the box discreetly among similar products.

I make my way to the self-checkout and immediately take out the black card Ezra gave me. I pay for the items.

Picking up the packed items, I stride out of the store. I need to distract the guards if I want to grab the kit real quick without word getting back to their boss. So I stop abruptly, catching them by surprise.

I shoot a glance at the men who are now by my side, their looming presence sending a flicker of irritation through me.

“Back off a bit, will you?” I scoff, making sure the irritation is apparent on my face.

“We have orders…” the one on my right begins to speak, but I cut him off.

“Which doesn’t say you have to be all up in my face,” I double down.

They stare at me for a tense second, but I hold my ground, refusing to back down. Finally, they step aside, giving me space, though the air still buzzes with tension.

“I'd also prefer we walk,” I say. After all, that’s the best way to experience the scenery.

They nod stiffly, and one of them moves to collect the bag in my hand . I do a little victory dance in my head as we walk further down the street before entering a retail pharmacy.

I start piling medical supplies, especially anesthesia, which I figure will be useful in the stitch room—and can easily conceal the pregnancy kit in my basket.

As I approach the shelf with the pregnancy kits, I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting the guards to materialize at my side, but they’re lingering by the entrance.

My throat tightens as I pick up two small, rectangular boxes, their pastel blue and white designs almost mocking in their simplicity. The kits feel heavier than they should. And the air seems to thicken around me as I shove them deep into my shopping basket, hiding them beneath other items.

It’s just precautionary, nothing more… I hope.

Just then, the door chimes and a tall man with a thick blonde beard enters. I begin to pay attention to him when he locks eyes with me and winks. Then he stands at the edge of the aisle, checking out condoms.

He’s dressed in a casual white tee and blue jeans, his blonde locks tucked underneath a baseball hat. His posture is relaxed, but a prickling unease crawls up my spine.

Then he quits checking out the products and stares straight at me. I pull my eyes away, taking a few steps away from the pregnancy kit shelf to check out sanitary pads.

“Raven, right?” A deep voice rumbles beside me. When I turn to look at him, he stops me. “Don’t look. Keep browsing your shelf.”

My heart skips a beat. From the corner of my eyes, I glance at him. He’s wearing a neutral expression, eyes fixed on the tampon shelf next to me. How does he know my name? What does he want?

I browse my mind for anything that can give me answers but come up with none. I can confirm that I've never seen this man or have any mutuals connected to him. But maybe he’s a former patient.

"Who are you?" I question him, contemplating whether to signal for help. I quickly let my eyes roam to the guards—they’re watching me but don’t seem to suspect anything.

“Don’t fret,” he says, softly, his eyes fixed on the tampon stand. “Just a friend looking to help out,” he says, as his hand pulls out a pack of tampons.

“I have enough friends. I’m not looking for another.” I swallow but don’t attempt to end the conversation. For him to know my name, it means he knows me and I want to hear what he has to say before I decide my next move.

I catch him tilting his head as he picks another product from the stand.

“Feels good to finally be out in the fresh air, doesn’t it?”

I pause and narrow my eyes at him... in the best way I can while remaining inconspicuous. Is it just me, or does this man know so—

Before I complete my thoughts, his words hit me.

“You don’t look like you miss home.” His tone is light.

A gasp escapes my throat, and it takes everything in me not to turn and face him. Who the hell is this man?

“Who are?”

“I wonder... if the roles were reversed, would you so easily forget your best friend?”

The pad in my hand falls to the floor as shock stills my fingers.

“I…I don’t know what you are talking about,” I stutter.

Did Harper hire him to find me?

“Protecting your captor, I see. Tell me, is that because you’re getting cozy with him?” he adds, his voice holding a hint of amusement.

My breathing stops, and for a second, it feels as if the earth is spinning. I glance at him, and his expression is the same. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyebrows relaxed – he looks too calm for someone who just dropped a bombshell. Who is this man?

His next words make my blood run cold. “I know your situation with the Marinos, and I can help.”

Sweat breaks out on my forehead as my heart hammers wildly against my chest. If he knows the cartel, then this man is not ordinary.

He glances at the guards before lowering his voice. “Relax, I consider it extremely inhumane to lock up a person like a caged animal, and so, I’d like to help you escape.”

“You’ve stopped browsing through shelves. Your guards will suspect something,” he adds. That’s enough to jumpstart my brain as I pick up the fallen pad, my throat suddenly feeling too thin to allow saliva.

How does he know? Why is he even offering to help me?

“Why should I trust you?” I fist another pad and throw it in the basket as the wheels turn in my head.

“Let’s just say... something similar has happened to me, and I hate to see it happen to someone else.” He returns one tampon to the shelf. “You know you can decide to run away on your own… that’s if you want. But you can never hide from the mafia. They’ll find you.”

He pauses for a brief moment, then continues. “But I can make you disappear. If you allow me to help you, the don will never find you after you escape.”

Bewilderment— that’s the only thing that fills my senses as I stare emptily at the shelf before me.

Is this some kind of setup? Is Ezra testing me? Or is this man really offering a way out?

If he truly is, then why?

Before I can ask, he stops his movement on the shelf and walks past me, slipping a card into my basket as he does.

“Think about it, Raven. But don’t wait too long,” he whispers, and heads to the checkout.

I reach for the basket and pick up the small piece of plain white paper, which has only a phone number etched in its center. The haze of confusion thickens as I stare at it. Maybe I should crumple it… toss it into the nearest trash can, but I don’t. When I look up again, he’s already out the door.

I swallow hard as I slip the card into the pocket of my dress and head to the counter to check out my items. The guards come then to carry the packed bags.

“Time’s up,” one of them says, as we exit the store. We quickly walk back to the car, and we’re soon on our way to the mansion.

When we return to the mansion, I rush to Ezra’s bedroom with my bags, my heart still pounding from the encounter. The confusion I feel slowly turns into a sense of overwhelm as I close the door behind me and then sit on the bed.

Can I truly be free of Ezra?

I always believed for that to happen, he had to willingly let me go, which is the safest option. Better to be in here than out there with a pissed-off Marino after me.

But if the stranger makes good on his promise, Ezra would not be a problem. And that’s what I want… right? It’s what I’ve always wanted. To leave and return to my normal life.

The thought swirls in my mind, shooting every emotion through my being until one settles thickly in my heart. Fear. I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly scared… of everything.

The urge to use the bathroom grips me, and I shoot up to do so. I’m almost at the door when I remember to get the kit. My hand shakes as I pull the pregnancy test from one of the bags and stare at it. Anxiety shoots through my being, and sweat starts to clamor my palms.

I sit on the edge of the bed, the box heavy in my hands. What if I’m pregnant? What will Ezra do? What will I do?

I’ve seen the way he handles betrayal, the way he punishes those who cross him. The killings, the violence, the blood—this is no place to raise a kid.

I shake my head, the urge to yank at my hair is strong. But then again, this is just a precaution. I can’t be pregnant. My mind is only playing tricks on me.

Finally, I get up and speed to the adjoining bathroom, locking the door behind me. Sitting on the toilet seat, my hands tremble as I yank open the box, clasping it a little tighter before taking out the two sticks and urinating on them. I set the sticks on the sink and leave for the bedroom.

I pace the room, glancing repeatedly at the alarm clock on the bedside table while I wait. The box said to wait for five minutes.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow, each second dragging on forever. Every glance at the clock causes my heart to race and my body to numb with fear as I try to walk off the anxiety.

When the time is up, I go back into the bathroom and mumble a little prayer before forcing myself to look at the sink.

Time comes to a stop, and the wind is forcefully sucked out of my gut when I see it.

Two lines. Positive . No.

My stomach churns with a new wave of emotions– fear, confusion, despair, panic– and my legs suddenly aren’t enough to hold the weight of my body.

No. No. No. This… this is impossible.

My vision blurs as the world crashes down around me. I can’t breathe. I try to swallow, but my throat is constricted.

I’m pregnant. Fuck. I’m pregnant with Ezra’s child. This can’t be happening.

I can’t have this baby. Not like this. Not with him. Not in this bloody world.

The weight of the realization suffocates me, my lips quivering uncontrollably.

I sink to the floor, my back sliding against the cold tiles until my butt hits the ground. Tears burn my eyes, and it takes every bit of struggle to not let them fall. I can’t afford to break down… not now.

The card in my pocket calls out to me, the stranger’s offer replaying in my head. A way out. A chance to escape. But can I trust him? What if it’s a trap? What if he’s just another player in this game, another person trying to use me?

A soft knock on the bedroom door startles me, and I whirl around, panic seizing my chest.

I take the test sticks and toss them behind the toilet bowl, scampering to the door in time to see it open. I quickly hold it in place, giving just enough space to see him and be seen. It’s Ezra.

I instantly school my expression, narrowing every one of my senses on him.

He looks exhausted, his injured arm hanging limply at his side, connected to the IV pole. The drip is almost exhausted.

“Are you okay? You don’t look good,” he asks, with a frown, looking past me inside the room.

“Yes, I’m just having a private moment,” I tell him.

“Does that private moment include you getting naked?” he teases. “I’m all for a good fuck right now.”

I draw in a small breath and force an awkward smile. “Well, I’ve had quite the day, so I’ll pass on that offer.”

There’s a freaking human growing inside of me right now! I scream internally.

He pauses for a second, the smile wiping off his face. “Are you okay?”

Shit! Can he tell?

“Yes,” I manage a convincing smile, although I’m not sure it’s convincing enough.

He watches me for a moment, his green eyes narrowing slightly.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ll be with you shortly to take out the cannula. You’ve completed your dose.”

He nods and turns away.

As soon as the bedroom door clicks shut, I rush to the bathroom, hands trembling as I grab the test sticks. The two unmistakable lines stare back at me. Tears well up, blurring everything, and I finally let them fall.

I’m pregnant.