Under His Protection: A Dark Mafia Romance

5. The Revelation

The morning sunstreams through the gauzy curtains, painting my tiny apartment in a soft, golden light. It’s a deceptive kind of light, though. A light that can’t penetrate the shadows that’s settled over me.

I pull on a simple black maxi dress; the cotton fabric feels soft against my skin. My reflection shows a woman with dark circles under her eyes and a haunted expression. The faint scent of Alexander’s cologne still lingers on me like a phantom touch.

I am considering calling Sarah, and perhaps I can meet her on my way to Harvey. My fingers hover over her number. On one hand, I want to get her perspective, to share the fear that has begun to gnaw at me. But I also hesitate. I don’t want to drag her into this mess. She’s a ray of sunshine in my life, my only ray of pure, innocent sunshine, and I want to protect her.

Today, the city streets feel more chaotic, the air buzzing with tension and cars relentlessly honking. It”s like a swarm of bees, each one a tiny, insistent buzzing.

My fingers trace the edge of the screen where Sarah’s smiling face is displayed, a giant, melting ice cream cone held awkwardly in her hand. A sudden flash of memory jolts me: Sarah, her eyes wide, her fingers fumbling with the lock of my apartment door, her voice haunted, “Ava! Where are you?” The image of a broken windowpane, shards of glass glittering on the floor, the sound of Sarah’s boots on the hardwood floor tearing my place apart with Tyler trying to find me. And I observed it all in Dexter’s captivity on a small screen.

Still, I decide to press the green button however selfish that might be. I need my best friend.

It rings only once, “Ava, hun.”

“Hi Sarah, can you meet me at the cafe down the street from your work? I’m on my way to Harvey, and I’d love to meet,” I say.

“Oh, sure,” she says, “It’s not like work at a multimillion-dollar tech company, so I have lots of spare time.”

I can almost imagine her wink with a mascara-lashed eye at me.

“It’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Be there in ten. I’m on my way to work anyways, and coffee is a universal right.”

I glance at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, my lips drawn tight. I don’t look like myself. I should probably put on some blush.

The cafe is bustlingwith the usual morning crowd: business people in suits, students hunched over laptops, couples sharing pastries and stolen kisses. I inhale the aroma of brewed coffee and pastries, a familiar scent that brings a pang of nostalgia. It’s a chaotic, vibrant scene, and I feel as misplaced as ever.

She’s already at the cafe when I get there, sipping a cappuccino and browsing her phone. My eyes are drawn to her bright red lipstick, a bold splash of color against her freckled face, and her seafoam green top, the fabric clinging to her toned arms. She’s hung her navy blue jacket on the back of the chair. She’s a whirlwind of movement, bouncing her knee in the chair. I wish I had some of that energy.

“Hey, you!” Sarah says, her eyes twinkling with a grin. “You look like you just fought a dragon. Need a pick-me-up?”

I slump into the chair across from her, trying to ignore how she stares at me, a mixture of amusement and concern in her eyes. “Maybe a dragon. Maybe a zombie apocalypse. Who knows. The city feels different today like something”s about to break.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it, Ava?” she says, chuckling. “My boyfriend thinks you’re a bit dramatic, too.”

I nod. “I’m sure I am. He’s right.” I take a sip of the lukewarm coffee Sarah must have ordered for me, trying to ignore my trembling hand. “Was that just your way of saying you’re still dating Gilbert?”

“Yup! He’s a good guy, though,” Sarah says, her voice softer now. “He has a good heart, Ava. And he’s funny.”

For some reason, I have a hard time seeing Gilbert from accounting as the hilarious boyfriend. But hey, who am I to judge? Dating a guy involved with the mafia has a way of making you re-evaluate your standards.

“I’m sure he is,” I say, my gaze fixed on the bustling cafe, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling that someone is watching me. “So, what’s with Gilbert?” I ask, trying to distract myself. “Is he—- is he aware of everything? Of everything that went on in the past?”

He knows on a need-to-know-basis,” Sarah says, her spark dimming slightly. Her hand closes around mine, a warm touch that seeps into my bones, grounding me. ”What did you drag me down here to talk about?”

I hesitate; maybe I shouldn’t involve her. She’s happy with Gilbert. It’s not her troubles. It’s mine.

“I—I just missed my best friend,” I stammer.

“Don’t lie to me.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause.

“It’s funny. I got a letter,” Sarah says, breaking the silence, her voice a little lower than usual.

“A letter?” I say, tilting my head. “What is this, the 90s?”

She laughs, but it stiffens quickly. “It was from Freddy. You know, Fancy Freddy? He died a few months ago. He overdosed.”

The news of Freddy’s death had hit me hard, bringing back memories of the dark side of this city, the hidden corners where despair and addiction festered. I wonder if the drugs that killed him had come in on one of Alexander’s ships.

“Yeah, I remember Freddy,” I say, a shiver running through my body. “You got a letter from a dead person? What did it say?” I raise a suspicious eyebrow.

“That’s the thing.” Sarah’s eyes grow distant, a flicker of fear passing over them.

“There was no letter. There was just a black feather inside.”

Feather, my body starts to shake.

A black feather. The Raven? I was so caught up in my own fears I hadn’t considered the possibility that the Raven was out there targeting my friends, still playing his twisted games.

I stand, and my stomach lurches. My need to find Harvey, to get answers, overrides my need for Sarah and coffee.

“I have to go,” I stammer, pushing back my chair. My coffee spills, a dark stain blooming on the crisp white tablecloth.

“Ava? What’s going on?” Sarah says, feverishly dapping the stain with napkins.

“I’ll call you—” I say, my voice is a little too high-pitched and forced.

As I turn to go, something catches my eye. Out of the corner of my vision, I see a figure standing near the entrance. Their back is to me, their face hidden, but I feel a tingling of apprehension.

I pull my coat closer around me, feeling the chill from the open window, and head towards the door. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched as I walk. I glance over my shoulder, but there’s nothing there.

I need to get to the police station, to Harvey, as quickly as possible. I glance over my shoulder again, but there’s nothing there. I keep looking back, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, and I pick up my pace, racing towards the familiar imposing presence of the police station. The shadows are closing in, and I don’t know who is watching me.

I pushopen the heavy double doors of the police station, and the scent of sweat and stale coffee hits me. I scruff up my nose, but it’s still a comforting scent, a smell of authority and order. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz, creating a harsh, sterile ambiance.

One elevator ride and several hallway turns later, I stand in front of Harvey’s desk. It’s a chaotic mess. Papers spill from overflowing files, coffee cups litter the surface, and a half-eaten bagel sits on a plate beside a stack of unopened mail. The air carries a faint metallic tang.

He looks up from his desk, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. Dark circles underscore his tired eyes, and his gray hair is scruffier than usual. He’s aged in the past year, the lines on his face etched deeper, as if he’s been carrying the weight of the city’s secrets on his shoulders.

He has Ava.

“Ava,” he says, his voice husky, like gravel grinding against stone, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

“I need to talk to you, Harvey,” I say, trembling slightly. “I need your help.”

He gestures to the chair across from his desk. It’s a worn leather chair with a spring that gives way with a squeak when I sit down.

“So what can I do for you? I pulled out some files in case you wanted to take a trip down memory lane.” He gives me a tired smile, the lines around his eyes crinkling further. His right finger points to a thick paper file, its cover emblazoned with the word “Veles” in bold, black lettering.

I shift my weight, my gaze drawn to the file. Its worn cover seems to stare back at me. When I look up, Harvey”s eyes meet mine, a tired weariness in their depths.

“I wanted to ask you about something else— Well, maybe it’s connected, I don’t know.”

Harvey nods and yawns, a deep, rumbling sound that seems to shake the entire room. “I’ll get us some coffee, alright?”

“Yeah, sure, thanks.”

As he leaves the room, I glance around his office, and my eyes land on his desk. The files are a jumble of dates and names, most of the contents unknown to me. Another file, though, catches my eye. It reads “Ava Parker,” and the date is old, a date I recognize—the year my parents died. Why does Harvey have a criminal file on me from back then?

I shiver. I want to look closer, to see what it says, but I stop myself. It feels wrong, like a violation of his trust.

Harvey returns with two steaming mugs of coffee, his brow furrows. “You’re looking a bit pale,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit —tired,” I say.

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles and sips his coffee.

His phone rings, a sharp, insistent ring that cuts through the room. Harvey glances towards the other desk, a frown creasing his brow. “Right, I have to take this.” He picks up, his voice gruff and clipped. “Yes—okay—I’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up the phone and narrows his eyes. “Seems like there’s a situation down at the harbor, possible murder.” His gaze shifts to the Veles file on his desk, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface. “It’s always the same story, isn’t it?”

I freeze. My mind races, linking the news of the murder to Alexander, to Michelle. Alexander had left to find her. So he shouldn’t be in town, right? But the harbor? That’s where he brings in the ships carrying stolen artifacts. Could he be there and caught up in this?

“Anything to do with Veles?” I ask. My hands start to tremble as I tuck them under the table. I don’t want Harvey to see.

He shakes his head. “Not that I know of,” he replies. “But it’s a good reminder that this city is never truly safe.”

He takes a long sip of his coffee, the sound of the liquid sloshing in the mug a jarring noise. I relax the tension in my shoulders, focusing on Harvey’s words. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

“I need to ask you something,” I say. “Do you know anything about a man called the Raven? Someone who works alone, pulling strings. A man behind a network—”

Harvey’s gaze darkens, the lines on his face etching deeper. “The Raven?” he says, his voice a low growl. He takes another long sip of his coffee. “I don’t know anything about a Raven. There was a criminal many years ago, someone who worked on his own, a ghost. His nickname was the Specter.”

I swallow, and for some reason, my throat is parched. The Specter. Why that name?

“You think it can be connected?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, Ava— everything is descending— I have to go.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks, Harvey,” I say. “For everything.”

I push my chair back from the desk, standing up. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my body buzzes. I want to leave, to get out of this place, but at the same time, the file with my name on it beacons to me.

Take it, take it.

I step toward Harvey, reaching out to thank him again, but I lose my balance. My fingers clench into a fist. I stumble, reaching out, and I end up gripping his shoulder.

I look at him, my cheeks burning with my fake stumble, and my eyes widen. “I’m sorry,” I stutter.

I didn’t get close enough to the file to grab it, and it’s still on the table. Damn it.

“It’s alright,” he says, his voice gentle. “I can see you’re rattled. Take it easy.”

I step back and try to relax my grip, but my fingers can’t seem to let go. I give him a tight smile, a feeble attempt at composure. “Give my best to Tyler, hope he’s well.”

He cracks a smile, the first time he has smiled since I came in. “He’s doing good, my boy. He’s got a girlfriend, a lovely young woman.”

“That’s great,” I say, nodding, forcing a smile. A good, safe life is just what Tyler needs. He’s not a wreck like me, not someone who’s been dragged into this world of crime. I shake the thought away, trying to focus on the present.

“They’ve actually moved back to Port Haven,” he says.

I freeze for a moment, “Oh? Well, that’s – that’s interesting.”

A sense of unease, cold and sharp, makes the hairs on my neck rise, and I have no idea why.

I turn to leave, my gaze lingering on Harvey’s desk. He’s turned his back to me now. It’s my chance. My fingers, driven by an instinctive need to know, reach for the file. I feel the cool, smooth surface of the paper, and I grab it; it’s just a moment too late.

“What are you doing with that, Ava?” Harvey says, his voice sharp, his gaze piercing. He stands up, his hand reaching out, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of his desk.

I flinch, my heart hammering in my chest. My hand instinctively pulls back, the file dropping to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I stutter. “I just—”

“Ava, you know this is confidential,” Harvey says, his eyes fixed on me. “I wouldn’t want to see you get into any trouble.”

He glances over his shoulder as if checking for someone before straightening up and gesturing to the door.

I take a step back, my fingers shaky. I nod and shudder. His words, his actions, they’re all a warning. He knows something, and he’s not going to tell me. I don’t know who I can trust.

Just then, a young officer enters the room. He’s a tall, imposing man with a sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes. “Harvey, we gotta get down to the waterfront. I’ve got a lead on the harbor murder. It’s about a man named—” He stops, his gaze lingering on me, his eyes flickering with a strange, unsettling intensity.

“Officer Monroe, this is Ava Parker,” Harvey grunts.

Monroe nods, his gaze still fixed on me, then turns back to Harvey, his tone clipped. “This guy, he’s dangerous. He’s connected to a crime ring, Harvey.”

Does he mean Veles?

I feel the hairs on my neck prickle.

“Alright, Monroe. Let’s go,” Harvey says, his voice firm. He turns to me, his gaze lingering on me, his expression unreadable. “Ava, feel free to call me if you have any more questions.” He glances at Monroe, then back at me, his eyes a swirling storm of dark grey. He grabs his jacket from the chair’s back and adjusts the gun attached to his belt.

His partner is already out the door. Harvey turns to me, nods goodbye, and leaves.

“Thanks,” I manage a moment later, tugging a strand of hair behind my ear.

I need to know the truth about my parents. I need to know what’s in that damn folder and why Harvey is hiding it from me.

As I reach the door, my hand lingers on the handle. Something is holding me back. It’s not just the sudden rush of adrenaline from the encounter with Monroe, but the unsettling feeling that something is wrong, something is hidden. I can’t leave without knowing. I turn back and hurry to Harvey’s desk.

The “Ava Parker” file is still on the floor, where it fell. I snatch it up, and a tremor runs through my limbs. The file is heavy in my hand. A thrill, a rush of adrenaline, courses through me. It feels wrong and dangerous, but I can’t help but revel in the feeling. This is a secret, a puzzle piece, and I’ve just taken it. It’s like a game, a delicate dance, and I’ve just made my move.