Chapter 10 – Ravyn
Five years. That was how long it had been since I ran away for my safety and the babies’. At the time, I didn't even know that I was carrying a set of twins in my womb; I just wanted to get as far away from that cold-blooded killer as possible.
He wasn't the kind of man I wanted to father my children. No. How could I, in good conscience, let the devil raise my own kids? What example would he set for them? Lev Tarasov was nothing but evil, and that was the legacy he would leave behind: evil.
There was no way in hell that I was going to subject my kids to a life of crime and disorder. They deserved better, and I wasn't going to be the reason they would feel trapped in a world of violence. Their father, sadly, was a dictator, an egocentric and manipulative bastard with a stone for a heart and ice in his veins.
He lacked the capacity to raise a child, let alone two. That embodiment of evil would only ruin their lives and corrupt their minds, especially Nik's. He would consider the boy as his legacy, heir to his precious empire, which, ironically, was built on bloodshed, lies, deceit, manipulation, corruption, and all manner of everything illegal.
I couldn't bear the thought of being under the control of such a man. He had made it crystal clear that I belonged to him, and his condescending tone had made my stomach turn. He spoke to me that night like I was some piece of property that he owned, and that just accentuated my anger.
Right there and then, I had made up my mind to escape that control freak. I knew how good he was at reading me like a book, so I decided to mask my emotions and hide my plans.
The sound of their blissful giggles and laughs punctured the silence of the kitchen, snapping me out of my thoughts. I could hear them running upstairs, their footsteps pounding against the floorboards.
One of these days, those two would bring down this house.
A flutter swelled up in my chest, a warm smile spreading across my face as I listened to their playful banter.
Gentle rays from the rising sun filtered through the window, filling the kitchen with a warm yellow glow. I cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a flourish before pouring the mixture into a sizzling skillet.
As I made breakfast, the sweet aroma of crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and freshly brewed coffee wafted through the atmosphere, filling the cozy kitchen with an inviting scent.
Before now, I hadn't cooked a day in my life; I never had to, considering that I was born into wealth. Everything I ever needed was provided for. All I had to do was be the perfect daughter for the Jensen family.
However, now I was on my own, raising two children all by myself without help from anyone. Circumstances had forced me to learn things that I normally wouldn't have bothered to learn at all. I didn't have a choice; it was the only way to provide for myself and the kids in my care.
Moving to the small coastal town of Evergreen Bay wasn't easy for me. This was because I knew no one here and was starting life from scratch. I had a little money saved up, and with that, I got myself a small place to stay.
To the kind folks of Evergreen Bay, I was Claire Finch, a single mother with two adorable kids that everyone seemed to love.
For five years, I'd lived in this sanctuary under a different identity. And although it had been a bittersweet experience, I was proud of the woman I’d become. I didn't have much, but I had everything I needed to be fulfilled. The little I owned, I earned from hard work—fair and square.
My life was simple; it was nothing compared to the glitz and glamor I’d left behind, but at least here I called the shots—I made my own rules. Yes, I was pretending to be someone else, but this time, I wasn't doing so just to please anyone. Everything I did, I did for myself and the safety of my children.
“Nik! Elara!” I called, heading out of the kitchen with a tray of scrambled eggs, freshly brewed coffee, and crispy bacon. “Breakfast is ready!”
Their laughs filled the air as they raced down the stairs, footsteps echoing off the walls. Taking the lead, Elara taunted, “You can't catch me!” She laughed, her ponytail bouncing behind her. “I'm faster than you!”
“You wish,” Nik responded, a playful scowl perched on his face.
Every time I looked at Nikolai, I saw his father, and the older he got, the more striking the resemblance became. My boy was a constant reminder that I could only get away from Lev for so long. Nik and Elara were proof that I would never truly escape the man responsible for the outcome of my life.
They ran around the dining table, my daughter's eyes sparkling with her mirth. Her brother chased her about, pretending to be outraged, and I just stood there with an uncontrollable smile on my face.
These two lovelies were my world, and I would do anything to keep them safe. Becoming a mom taught me that there was nothing that a mother wouldn't do for her children. Nothing at all.
There was no greater feeling than seeing my kids happy and blissful, ignorant of the harsh reality of life. I'd give up anything in the world just to make sure they wouldn't suffer the fate I spent half a decade of my life protecting them from.
“Alright, you two speed demons.” I chuckled, my heart filled with love and gratitude. “It's time to eat. You're already running late for school.”
As their laughter died down, they settled into their chairs, ready to dig into their favorite meal of the day.
I watched them eat, my gaze shifting across the two of them, lips curled up into a bright smile. It was as though my love for these two adorable cuties grew stronger every day, and so did the bond I shared with the both of them.
After breakfast, we all headed outside, where I loaded their backpacks and lunchboxes into the car. Once done, I tucked them into the backseat and fastened their seatbelts. I slid behind the wheel of my Honda Civic and started the engine.
It wasn't a Porsche or a Ferrari or any of the exotic cars that I was used to driving, but it was practical, not to mention reliable. Plus, I bought it myself with the money I raised from working twice as hard as most people in the town.
I felt a sense of contentment wash over me as I listened to the kids chatter at the back, their elated voices filling the car's cabin. A broad grin played on my lips as I pulled out of the driveway and headed to their preschool.
Those two four-year-olds were the light of my world; without them, my life would be so empty. I considered myself lucky to have been blessed with the best of both worlds, and the best part was that they always got along.
They'd fight each other every once in a while, but most of the time, they'd spend quality hours bonding. I knew of kids—siblings—who rarely got along with one another, kids who'd rather be nice to strangers than their own blood.
Every day, I was grateful that my Nik and Elara were different. Maybe it was the way I’d raised them to always love and have each other's backs. Or maybe it was just how they were built. Whatever the case, they made me a super proud mom.
We arrived at the school, and I walked them to the barred gate, watching as they eagerly joined the other kids on the playground. I'd grown so confident in Nik's ability to keep them both safe.
On several occasions, my four-year-old boy had put some bullies in their place for daring to attack him or his sister. The Tarasov blood coursed through his veins, and sometimes, he manifested that brave and scary part of him.
From what I heard, all the boys at school feared him, even those a little older than him. Nik was playful only when surrounded by family. At school, though, he was usually something else—cold, calculated, and somewhat sinister. He was a lot like his father in that area, and his signature scowl, coupled with his hollow, dark eyes, often scared the shit out of his peers.
Elara, on the other hand, was a spitting image of me in every way, hence her jovial nature. She was the fun one, the sunshine girl with a pair of amazing blue eyes that sparkled like diamonds when she smiled.
“Bye, Mom!” Elara's tiny voice cut my thoughts as she waved from afar.
“Bye, guys. Have a great day!” I called out, blowing them a kiss.
As Elara darted off to play, Nik flashed a small smile at me before following up behind her like a human shield.
When my son looked at me the way he did, my heart stopped for a moment. It was as though I was looking at Lev Tarasov, and he was looking right back at me.
As I lingered by the gate, eyes fixed on the two of them, a voice drew my attention, prompting me to turn to the speaker.
“I admire the way you love your kids,” Ms. Jenkins said, her lips curling into a genuine smile.
She was a teacher in the school, and soon, Nik and Elara would graduate from the class she taught.
Ms. Jenkins was a young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, like me. And although we didn't talk all the time, on several occasions, I'd caught her staring at me. It was never in a creepy way, no. Her stares were always accompanied by a lovely smile and a wave whenever our eyes met.
“Thank you,” I replied to her remark, my lips curving into a grin.
“They're lucky to have you as a mother, you know,” she added, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You work really hard to provide for them, and you do that all by yourself.” Her smile broadened, admiration flickering in her gaze.
“That obvious, huh?” My cheeks flushed, and my eyes dropped to the floor, hiding my embarrassment.
“Yeah….” She chuckled, her laugh contagious. “I don't know if anyone else has told you this, but uh…you're a super mom.”
Her words melted my heart, misting my eyes, and I blinked back the tears welling in their depths. No one had said that to me—ever. And I was so grateful that someone had genuinely appreciated all the hard work I'd put in all these years. It meant a whole lot to me, and I felt a sense of satisfaction wash over me.
“Thank you, Ms. Jenkins,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper, barely containing the emotions within me. “You've made my day.”
She beamed a bright smile, revealing a glimpse of her perfect whites as she nodded her head and left.
I took one last look at my kids having fun on the playground, and I felt a flutter in my chest. The joy in my heart knew no bounds. Ms. Jenkins had said that they were lucky to have me as their mother. However, in real life, I was the lucky one to have been blessed with those two angels.
I headed back to my vehicle and drove to the small boutique I owned downtown. Investing in the clothing business in this part of town had turned out to be a good idea, considering how lucrative it'd been.
It wasn't my dream job or the ideal career path for a woman from a rich background. But it was enough to pay the bills, put food on my table, send my children to school, and cater to all my needs. What more could I ask for?
My friend Lorena used to say that simplicity was underrated and that the peace that came with it was always satisfactory. I hadn’t understood what she meant by that; now, I did.
Later that afternoon, after a long day of attending to customers bustling in and out of my boutique, I decided to take a break. Over the years, I'd picked up a new skill: sketching designs for my clothing business.
As I sat at my small desk in a corner of the boutique, sketching a new design, my mind drifted off to the night I gave my old life away.
Running away had taken a lot of planning and critical thinking. Lev was a smart son of a bitch, and I knew that if I stood any chance at escaping him, I would need to be just as smart.
That night, after he'd cornered me in that empty street and threatened that my life was in his hands, I decided to flee.
Moving into that apartment had been the first stage of my plan. I couldn't go home to my parents, knowing the situation that I had gotten myself into. I knew a guy back in college—a hacker who owed me a favor for using my family's influence to help him out of trouble.
I’d contacted him when I moved to that apartment. After explaining to him the basic things that he needed to know about my situation, we both came up with a plan to help me escape without a trace.
He’d started off by first hacking the surveillance cameras outside my place. I'd rented that apartment because I knew that Lev would want to keep an eye on me after what I'd witnessed.
To do so, I anticipated that he'd have a few of his men around my place, watching my every move. And for the first time, I predicted him accurately. He had his men set up CCTVs outside my place in the most covert of ways possible, almost undetected. But I was intuitive.
Damon, my hacker friend, had disguised himself as a pizza delivery guy and arrived at my place twice in one day: in the morning and in the evening. Instead of a pizza, the contents of the boxes were the items I needed for my escape: forged papers, fake passports, and so on.
He'd hacked the CCTV and tampered with the footage, making it so that the same feed would play every day. I knew this trick wasn't going to fool Lev for long, but it would at least buy me some time to escape.
Tampering with the footage was one thing; ditching the watchmen hovering over my place was another problem altogether. I had to study them and figure ou t their patterns. It helped that they were ignorant of the fact that I knew of their presence; therefore, I had the element of surprise. Sort of.
Anyway, the moment I’d found the pattern and discovered an opening, a slight lapse in their security, I used it to my advantage. I wasn't sure an opportunity like that would present itself again, so I jumped on it and bolted through the east window.
I’d left without turning back, without even letting my parents know that I was skipping town. For years, I'd told myself that it was for the best and that I had no choice. But recently, I felt a giant pit in my stomach called guilt.
It began not long after I had my own children and understood the concept of parenting. I put myself in my parents’ shoes and asked myself how I'd feel if, one day, either of my babies left the city without a heads-up. How would I feel?
I'd be terrified for their safety. I'd be heartbroken.
This was the feeling I'd subjected my own parents to for five years. They had no idea where I was or if I was even alive. Mom must have been worried sick, and Dad must have used all of his resources, influence, and power to try and find me.
But I did what I had to do, and it was for the best. Right? Then why did I feel so guilty?
More than a few times, I'd come so close to reaching out to them to at least let them know that I was okay. But at the last minute, I'd always chicken out. I was afraid of how they'd react.
At 26, I wasn't exactly living the life they had envisione d for me. I was a single mom of two with no husband, living a simple life in a small house. This wasn't how they expected my life to turn out. Knowing my parents, they'd be disappointed, and Dad would say that I'd brought shame to the family name.
They wouldn't want anything to do with such a “failure,” so why bother reaching out to them? It was best if I stayed away and let them mourn the death of their perfect daughter because, indeed, that version of me was dead.
My life might not be moving on the same track that they had planned for me, but at least I got to live it on my own terms.
Later that evening, I sat by the window, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air around me. As I sipped from my cup, I watched the kids play in the yard with a couple of our neighbor's children.
They seemed happy, oblivious to the dark world of crime and violence they hailed from. It was an established fact that I'd do anything, go any length, to keep them safe and away from that world. However, deep inside me, I couldn't shake the feeling that trouble was around the corner.
How long would I stay hidden?
As long as it takes , I thought to myself.
What if this feeling of unease growing inside was nothing but my own fear getting a hold of me?
The thought of losing this peaceful life I’d worked so hard to build sent shivers down my spine. With a reflexive move, I closed the curtains, my heart racing in my chest.
As much as I wanted to delude myself into thinking that this feeling was nothing serious, deep down, I knew better.