22. RAVEN

22

RAVEN

"Burgers?" Archer asks with genuine surprise.

"Yes. And clothes," I say. "And he sneaks out via speedboats or in work trucks."

Archer shakes his head as we walk through the Center toward his office. Kai is here because I called him and relayed the issue with the kid, and he is visibly upset.

"Can we check on those kids in town?" Kai asks. "See how many? Do we have an estimate of the number of homeless kids in Port Mrei?"

Archer shrugs. "Check how? Via drones? Won't work. Let the guards sweep the area? Same result. They probably won't find anyone. Only if you get someone local."

"So, get someone local," Kai says.

"That place you guys used to frequent, what's her name? The chick who owns it?"

"Candy?"

"Yeah, Candy and her girls."

"I'll ask. I haven't talked to her in weeks. But I'll see what I can find out."

Archer opens the door to his office and lets us through.

A tall man in his forties stands with his hands in his jeans and a baseball hat, giving me a curt smile. Today is a big day because we meet with Alex Ortiz, Katura's father, who arrived at Ayana the other day.

Former undercover agent. Former anti-trafficking division. Surveillance expert. Survivalist.

Finally, we meet in person.

Alex Ortiz is in his mid-forties. Tall, serious, with a poker face that can trick psychiatrists. His handshake is firm but not overly dominating, and his voice is calm no matter the topic.

Marlow is here, too. So is Bishop.

Archer briefly tells them about Sonny's escapades to Port Mrei.

Marlow chuckles. "Raven is catching all the petty criminals these days."

If only he knew.

Archer snorts. "Looks like Raven has a shadow."

"As in?"

"The kid. He talks about you all the time."

Marlow nods in agreement.

"But we know what this little story means, right?" Alex Ortiz interrupts.

"In theory," Marlow says, probably thinking out loud, "we could turn Port Mrei into a sort of Google village or Apple Park. With enough work and investment, it could become the new Silicon Valley. That would take care of the homeless thing."

Archer nods. "That's a lot of work."

"In truth," I say, "the town is too far gone."

It's a shithole Archer barely cared for until recently. Somehow, his kidnapping opened his eyes to the state of Port Mrei, specifically Ashlands.

"In truth," I say grimly, "there has to be another war for that town to be willing to change. A new administration, at the minimum."

And inevitably, the conversation veers toward Tsariuk. I swear, there's something in the water, some Russian magic, because we haven't talked about Tsariuk that much before. But since I uncovered his daughter, I hear that name at every meeting.

"We are not afraid that Tsariuk will infiltrate Ayana," Archer says. "The trouble is what happens if he finds out his daughter is indeed here, and we didn't find her or give her to him."

I wonder if that's a rhetorical question. There are a lot of what-ifs lately.

I shouldn't be saying what I am about to, but there is no way around it. In two months, when my deal with Maddy is over, we will have to come forward. I might just have to prepare beforehand.

"What if we have a talk with Tsariuk?"

Every head in the room snaps in my direction.

Archer is calm, surprisingly so. "And say what?"

"Say that we are actively looking for his daughter. Tell him—just like we tell Butcher—that we know he is trying to find his way in. Tell him that his people are causing trouble. Have an actual conversation. And that's how we let him know that we are aware he has people on Zion. He does. There is no use denying it now." I think about the picture Maddy got from the unknown number, but of course, I don't bring it up.

"So, we want to start cautious talks with a Russian oligarch? Is that it?"

"If Tsariuk indeed sent people, and they do find his daughter among your elite girls, he might decide to take revenge on you, thinking you had something to do with hiding her. I don't need to tell you what the revenge of a spiteful Russian mobster can be like. He doesn't give a shit about your late father or Amir's family or other board members. Those guys have a different code of ethics. Whether you find her or not, I think you are in a bit of a trouble. All of us are."

Archer studies me for the longest time. I wonder if he suspects something.

I turn to Ortiz, who has direct connection to Tsariuk. "Coincidentally, you were initially hired by Tsariuk to infiltrate Ayana. I'd say, if something comes up on this island, you will be as screwed. At least, in Tsariuk's books."

He nods, seemingly in deep thought.

I now understand why Maddy hid for so long and what she was afraid of. There are six men in this office, six men who have a great deal of skills and connections, yet we are all very much aware of the threat of Aleksei Tsariuk. A threat to our lives.

We can't handle any type of big revolts if they were to happen. Not without international government support or a big military faction.

Yes, I said it. At some point, and it will come soon, Zion will have to be saved. Our Western mentality got double fucked. We thought that law was meant to protect us from others. Turned out, in reality, only when the law became shaky, we realized that it was always meant to protect us from the worst that lives deep inside us and never sees the light of day.

That's what the Change did.

Fear is our new weapon. And that's why we need to get in touch with Tsariuk—everyone is afraid of his wrath.

As always—this has become a daily thing—my mood is grimmer when the meeting is over. But lately, there is a cure to that—the memories of moments with sweet Maddy.

I soon will be an official stalker, or already am, because the sun is setting when I walk out of the Center, and the first thing I do is check Maddy's GPS location. She is at an Italian cafe, probably having dinner. The cafe has outside seating.

So, what do I do on my way home? Right, I ride my motorcycle on one of the souther streets of the resort, where I can see the stone paths that lead to the cliff seating area of the cafe. I pull to the side of the road to scan the cafe terrace, and there's sweet Maddy. Her hair is slightly frizzy, in a high ponytail that bounces cheerfully when she turns in my direction—she must've heard my motorcycle. Her dress is pale green, and her smile is soft as honey. There's Ty and QiShan next to her, the sight of the latter instantly making my blood boil. If I see QiShan one more time in her vicinity, he'll disappear from this island.

The message she sent me with the new rule was sweet. I saw her talking to Siena when I first walked into Ty's party. Siena is not her business, but everyone Maddy talks to is mine.

It's late when I decide to go to my alcove and decompress from another day on Zion. I close my eyes and inhale the salty air deeply, trying to focus on the sound of the crashing waves in front of me.

Yesterday, Maddy offered something I didn't count on—more time together. Sure, it was Sonny who asked me to stay for dinner. But Maddy could have looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Raven has things to do." She didn't. "Sure," she said, so unafraid. And that was right after she flirted with QiShan, which I knew was done for show. For a second, when I stepped into her house and heard the shower going, I thought it was him. In that brief second, I saw red and thought that I would send him off the island the next morning in a fucking shipping container.

Maddy is lucky it wasn't QiShan or some other guy. I would've punished her with a week-long sex-fest until she was too sore and delirious from being in a permanent state of orgasm, unable to fill her shifts at the medical center for weeks to come.

When I blackmailed her, I gloated at the idea that she would resent me, and I would bend her to my will so skillfully that she wouldn't notice when that resentment would grow into something entirely different.

But this—her playing along—is even better.

The rainy season is here. There's no sun, just clouds clashing above Ayana, morning to night. It's about to rain as I watch the darkness fall over the ocean.

The darkness is calming, though it'll never heal the scars that cut to the bone and into my memory. Darkness has many shades. Some are soothing. Others are petrifying.

Except these days, one person interrupts my solace.

Sweet Maddy.

My body tenses at the memory of her, already anticipating the next encounter.

"Your way with women is a reflection of who you are," Mac once said.

I was an angry guy when I got out of juvie. I fucked with anger, too, drilling my hate for the world and myself into every girl who was eager. Coincidentally, the ones around at that time were full of anger and hate, too, offering themselves like some fucked-up martyrs. They liked it rough. It worked well for a while.

Then came Bella. She tried to "cure" me. I felt bad for her, and through that pity discovered the surprising pleasure in watching her orgasm, when she forgot her mission of "making me feel better about myself" through sex and was lost in the delirium of coming around my fingers, cock, tongue, hairbrush handle, dildo or anything that came handy. That —watching a girl so needy for me, only me—was a revelation. Until her, a G-spot was a ghost. Lesson learned, and there was more to come. Turned out, pleasing a girl wasn't only a skill but a great tool. To her heart. Her friends. Her connections.

That was how I got Angelica, the daughter of the town's mayor. A pretty little thing. Fierce, careless, sex crazed. She was as hungry for my dick as a Pacman. By then, I already drove a beamer, had graduated to the darknet, and was a go-to guy for Archer Crone and a dozen other of Deene's high-rollers. My bedroom skills made the mayor's daughter insatiable. I did everything by the book, too. Wined and dined her. But mostly, I listened. Oh, do women like being listened to.

Maddy unlocked something else. I feel there's a part of her my tongue and cock can't get to. And so I have to learn what she is, how to get to her in other ways. Again, as is my habit lately, I close my eyes and think about our little tryst at her place.

A distant noise echoes through the night, and then it's gone.

My eyes snap open, and I push off the rock. Without turning on the flashlight, I walk down the rocky path, onto the beach, and scan the Ayana resort.

Nothing out of the ordinary on the beach. The distant sound of party music. A happy cheering from the Bacaro restaurant patio on the cliff.

But the snappy sound cutting through the night up ahead draws my attention again—men's edgy voices. Someone is out there, and they are fighting.

I could leave this alone, but—you guessed it—I like knowing what's going on here on my island, so I start walking in that direction.