Chapter 3 —Ravyn
It had been six months since I ended things with Viktor. But sadly, this had been the worst period of my life, not because I was hurting from the breakup. No. It was because my father’s empire was slowly crumbling to the ground right before our eyes.
What he had worked so hard to build his entire life was taking a massive hit. And over the space of six months, he’d lost millions of dollars’ worth of property and investment.
No one knew exactly what was going on, except that business was no longer booming. It was almost as if the Jensen family was cursed, and someone had slammed the doors of success in our faces.
Nothing was working, and every day it was one piece of bad news after another—missing shipments, court cases, torched warehouses, et cetera. Dad was gradually losing his mind, most especially because he was in the dark, just like the rest of the world.
Nobody could tell what exactly was happening to the Jensen family or why these accidents kept recurring. This series of unfortunate events had persisted for almost half a year and had become a major problem.
The family business was now a shadow of what it used to be, and more than half of our domestic staff had left.
I didn’t blame them; there was nothing more my father could offer.
These workers had their own lives, families, and bills to pay.
It made no sense to remain loyal to a man who could no longer pay them for their work.
Brick by brick, my father’s empire was falling to pieces. It turned out that his most loyal friends weren’t so loyal after all. He was all alone, dealing with his problems like the strong man that he was.
One by one, his business associates withdrew from his companies. He lost his most profitable clients, his partners, and shareholders in this crisis.
Recently, I split my time between late-night study sessions for my final semester in fashion design and phone calls to suppliers. It was our way to try to keep the company afloat. Nothing was working, and the more suppliers I reached out to, the more disappointments I got.
It was so exhausting, so difficult to keep trying, especially when it felt like the whole universe was against us. Did all of these suppliers have a meeting where they decided not even to lend the Jensens a listening ear?
What had happened to Dad’s business partners? Why wouldn’t any of them help?
“It’s all so frustrating, Blair,” I muttered quietly, fingers running through my hair, elbows resting on the table. “I’m tired.”
The rich scent of roasted beans and sweet pastries lingered in the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I sat at a small corner table, across from my friend, Blair, our mugs steaming between us.
“Hey,” she called softly, reaching out to take my hand. “You’ll get through this, okay? It’s just a phase.” Her stormy green-gray eyes stayed fixed on me, her soft brown curls pulled into a messy ponytail.
“No offense, but a motivational speech is the last thing I need right now.”
She let out a faint chuckle, her lips curling into a smile. “I’m sorry, but as long as I’m here with you, that’s all you’re gonna get from me.”
I rubbed my eyes, laughing lightly despite my breaking heart. “I just want it to stop. I want things to go back to being as they were, you know.”
She picked up her mug and slurped her coffee. “You mean like your relationship with Viktor Tarasov?” she teased, stealing a glance at me over the rim of her mug.
My brows drew together, a playful scowl settling on my face. “Ha-ha! Very funny.” I lifted my mug to my lips. “Remind me again why I keep you around?”
“Moral support.”
“Well, you, my friend, are doing a very terrible job.” I took a sip.
“And that’s why you love me so much.” She laughed.
I pursed my lips to suppress the smile threatening to break free. “Careful there, or I’ll start asking about your dating disasters.”
“Come on, you know I don’t have any,” she said, wiggling her brows. “I’m very meticulous about who I let into my life.”
I raised my brows, my head tilting toward her. “Really?” My tone dripped with mock disbelief. “Because I remember a guy named Adam—the one you caught kissing that blonde behind the library.”
She froze, her fingers scratching the back of her head before she became defensive. “Okay, first, that was a long time ago. And second, I dumped his sorry ass before he could even finish his pathetic excuse.”
“Yeah, right. Let’s go with that.” I smirked into my mug.
She swatted at me from across the table, laughter spilling between us. For the first time all day, the heaviness in my heart eased, and I let myself swoon in this fleeting moment of bliss.
Blair Blake was my best friend and safe space. She was a freelance investigative journalist and an ex-military brat. She was danger wrapped in denim and defiance, with oversized flannels concealing a pistol holster she swore she’d used. Lies.
Blair was the only twenty-one-year-old girl who wandered the city armed with a loaded gun as if trouble was lurking around every corner. Sometimes, I wondered if a zombie apocalypse was coming that I didn’t know about.
As sarcastic and annoying as she was, Blair was still the only one that I could talk to about stuff like this. She was the only one I could lay all my frustrations upon.
“You know, you actually dodged a bullet with Viktor,” her voice cut through my thoughts. “I hear the Bratva is now tightening their grip on the city.”
I leaned back in my chair, eyes darting toward the TV, where the news was reporting the clash between two rival gangs and the destruction they left in their wake.
My gaze shifted back to her face. “I have bigger problems to worry about than the Bratva and their activities.” I frowned at the news, my jaw clenching at the sight of dead bodies on the streets. “Why haven’t the likes of Lev Tarasov been brought in for questioning?”
She glanced at the TV screen, then back at me. “The truth is, these guys are above the law. The Bratva is untouchable at the moment. Even if other gang leaders were to be brought in by the cops, no one would dare come after Lev Tarasov.”
She was right. The man was protected by the law, the same law that was supposed to put him and his kind away.
“Word in the street is that he owns half the cops and a quarter of the people in the DA’s office,” Blair said, sipping from her mug.
My blood boiled at the incompetence of the law. “Those dirty assholes.” I furrowed my brows, my grip tightening around the mug. “Because of their greed and corruption, Lev Tarasov is gradually reshaping the city in his own image.”
“The city’s in need of saving,” she said, stealing another glance back at the TV. “We already have a villain. All we need now is a hero.”
“That’s why we have you, Soldier Girl,” I teased, a small grin tugging at the corners of my lips.
She reclined in her chair, fingers stroking her jaw. “Soldier Girl. Hmm. The name does have a ring to it.”
Again, we laughed—not so hard—but enough to ease me of this tension, this burden tightening in my chest. We spent the next hour talking about random things that had nothing to do with the city’s Bratva situation or the series of unfortunate events currently happening in my life.
I didn’t want our conversation to end because that would mean that I’d have to face reality. Break time was over—I’d escaped the real world long enough. It was time to come back.
By the end of the evening, we parted ways and bade each other goodbye. She encouraged me to keep holding on and that things would find a way to fix themselves.
Yeah, of course she’d say that—it was easier to give advice than take it. I would do the same thing, say the same words, too, if I were her.
While heading back home at sunset, my shoes clicked against the pavement as I withdrew my phone from my purse. I scrolled through my recently dialed numbers for a particular supplier’s contact.
We’d spoken two days ago about a shipment that I needed for my fashion design project. It was supposed to arrive tomorrow, and I just wanted to check in and be sure we were still in business.
I dialed the number and waited as it rang on the other line.
“Hello?” the supplier answered.
“Hey, Jenny, hi,” I greeted her, looking both ways before crossing the street. “I’m calling regarding the delivery—”
“About that,” she cut me off as politely as she could. “I’m sorry, Miss Jensen, but the delivery’s been canceled.”
I stopped in my tracks, shock flickering through me. “Canceled? Are you kidding me? We had a deal,” I stressed my whisper, frustration creeping into my tone.
“I’m really sorry, Miss Jensen. The order came in this morning, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
At this point, I wasn’t only frustrated; I was confused by the sudden change of plans. Then her words hit me differently.
“Wait a minute, what do you mean the order came in this morning? Did you cancel everybody’s delivery, too, or just mine?” I asked, my voice dripping with curiosity.
Silence.
“Jenny?” I called softly and repeated the question, serious as fuck. “Did you cancel everybody’s delivery, too, or just mine?”
She hesitated on the other line, then quickly added, her words rushed and frantic, “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”
The call ended.
I lowered the phone from my ear, my jaw tightening as a million thoughts flooded my mind. Something wasn’t right.
Why the hell would only my delivery be singled out and canceled? She said the order came in this morning, meaning someone above her pay grade was behind this. It was done on purpose.
My eyes narrowed, my suspicion growing by the second. I could understand why every supplier had refused to be associated with my father’s failing business when I reached out. But this was my supplier, and this deal had nothing to do with my father or his business.
Why did they refuse to deliver my goods when I was going to pay for them? Why the last-minute change of plans?
Was this happening because of the recent Jensen family situation? Or was there someone behind all of this, pulling the strings from the shadows?
The Bratva.
I didn’t have any proof that they were involved in my father’s misfortune, but it seemed likely they were. This storm had hit the Jensen family around the same time I ended things with Viktor.
I’d humiliated him at his brother’s party in front of the guests. And considering the fact that they were in the Mafia, it was only logical that they’d want revenge.
This was a meticulously planned attack on my father’s business. The Bratva was responsible, but they were clever enough not to leave any fingerprints. I lacked proof or evidence, only a strong suspicion that Lev Tarasov was involved in all of this chaos.
Maybe my father was aware of this. Maybe he wasn’t. However, each time I tried to speak with him about the family’s current situation, he’d avoid my questions. He always told me not to worry and that he would figure it out. But his eyes—tired and haunted—hinted at something even more disturbing.
The Bratva was working against us from behind the scenes. Maybe I’d tear a page from their own book. Because of their greed and corruption, counterfeit goods flooded the fashion supply chain.
If I could create an awareness about this anonymously, then maybe—just maybe—I could fight back from the shadows as well.
It wasn’t going to be easy, especially because he owned half the city and half the cops. But I’d find a way around this.
A few minutes later, I reached my apartment, but just before walking into the building, I spotted a black SUV parked by the sidewalk. It was dark, so I couldn’t see the driver’s face, but they had a lit cigarette between their lips.
I shrugged it off as nothing and went into my apartment. I locked the door behind me, tossed the bunch of keys onto the nearest table, and walked into the living room. I headed straight to the bedroom, took off my jacket, and collapsed face down on the soft, comfy mattress.
Exhausted, I lay there, fighting with the countless thoughts threatening to tear my mind apart.
Later that night, while taking out the trash, I realized the black SUV was still parked across the street. I paused for a second, watching the vehicle with squinted eyes. I looked around the serene environment; an old couple was walking down the street, and a dog was barking in the distance.
The flickering street lamps cast long, eerie shadows along the pavement, and the alleyways seemed darker tonight.
I threw away the trash and then went back inside, ignoring the parked SUV as nothing to worry about.