13. RAVEN

13

RAVEN

My legal name, as always, gives me a momentary whiplash.

This could be a clever trap, but there is no way to tell.

The guy still didn’t come out of hiding as both Ali and I are now pointing guns in his direction, ready to shoot. But split-second decisions can turn into big mistakes. I need to be smart about this.

“What’s Tsariuk’s daughter’s name?” I ask.

“Milena Tsariuk,” he answers, but everyone knows that.

“Her alias here on Zion?”

“Maddy Wise.”

Fuck. He might be legit. “Can you prove it?”

“I can call him right now.”

“How?”

“I have a satellite phone. Don’t shoot. I’m coming out.”

And then he steps out of the shadows, his hands raised. He looks like any guy in Port Mrei. But there is a phone in one hand, a gun in the other.

“Put your gun on the ground,” Ali prompts. “Sloooowly.”

“Easy there,” the guys answers. “I’m not lying. I’ve been at Port Mrei for months. Tsariuk just landed here the other day. He’s looking for you.”

He does as he is told, and when he steps away from the gun, Ali approaches to get it while I yank the phone from his hand.

Ali’s gun is on the guy while my heart booms loud and my hands are shaking when I dial the number.

I should be paying attention to the streets, but I can’t help it. I’m calling Maddy.

The yellowish glow still illuminates the air above the houses behind us, the fire burning from the grenades we threw. Trucks, motorcycles, ATVs, gunshots—my revenge escapade woke up this entire fucked up city.

Despite all this, I stand in the shadows, gun in my hand, the phone in my other ringing and ringing and ringing, and my heart is raging in my chest. I hold my breath, waiting to hear Maddy’s voice. My head spins at the possibility of hearing her say, “Hello.” She seems so distant, like another life.

And she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t answer.

My heart falls. Like it did back then when we didn’t talk.

But it’s all right. She might be working, busy, taking a shower. Who knows? So, I send a message.

Beautiful girl, I’m coming back.

A loud scream comes from the direction we are heading in. A female scream, whipping us around.

“Something’s not right,” I say. “I think it’s coming from the Venus Den. Let’s move.”

The three of us start skirting the walls of the buildings as we move on, and I dial Archer’s number.

He picks up right away. “Hello?”

“It’s never felt so good to hear your voice,” I breathe in relief.

Archer stalls for a moment, then hesitantly asks, “Raven?”

I wish we could chat more, but this is an emergency.

“I’ve never asked for your help, Archer,” I say almost in a whisper. “But we need it now. I have to be quick.”

“Fuck… Tell me what you need, Raven. Where are you? Fuck. Fuck. Where are you?”

We step into the street of Venus’s main entrance, and the sight ahead halts us in our tracks.

“The Venus Den. We need?—”

Ali shoves a hand over my mouth, silencing me.

Two trucks are parked outside the club’s entrance. A thug with a raised gun stands guard as another one drags Candy out of the house.

“Contact Shepherd,” I whisper to Ali.

“Men at Candy’s. Men at Candy’s,” he murmurs in the radio.

Then suddenly, my blood goes cold. A thug in the truck bed swings his hand and slaps someone hard. “You with them, you fucking snitch?”

It’s a woman. And not just any woman. It’s the girl from Butcher’s house, the one I saved. She is sobbing, covering her head with her hands when the thug punches her.

More men come out of the house, dragging four more women out.

“Fuck,” I hiss. “They know I came from Candy’s. It’s not a routine check. They know I was here. Tell Shepherd.”

Ali presses the radio to his mouth. “Butcher’s men at Candy’s. Looks like six of them. They are rounding up the women.”

And then my heart falls, because four little girls scurry out of the house, tripping on themselves and holding on to each other. One of the thugs is behind them, poking the youngest girl in her back with a rifle barrel, hurrying her up. “Look what we got here!”

“Don’t you fucking touch them!” one of the women screams, but a thug grabs her by the hair, yanking her back.

My hand tightens around my gun.

“That’s it, we are going in,” I whisper.

Ali shifts his shoulders, tucking his gun away and drawing the AK in front of him, then picks up the radio. “They got the little girls. No matter the number of men, we are going in. Right now.”