Chapter Thirty-One
Shadow.
I was a good man once.
Probably still am. I had hopes, dreams, and desires... I mean, I had endless money at my disposal and when I turned eighteen, I was going to have even more money at my fingertips. I was ready to go to college, travel a bit, and see the world without parental supervision.
The dream ended the day I turned eighteen and I found all of my acceptance letters in the trash. Except one.
"Rayne-Moore University Welcomes You!"
Blah-blah-fucking- blah .
I took the letter straight to my father's office and threw it down on his desk. "What the fuck is this?"
He turned in his chair, taking off his glasses, peering down at the page, then back up to me. "Congratulations, son. Seems you've been accepted to the most prestigious university in the northeast."
"What about Hartford? Yale?"
"That's not in the works for you. This is. You'll follow in my footsteps, your grandfather's footsteps – his father before him. This is our legacy."
"I know all about your legacy . I don't want it to be mine. I didn't ask for this. "
"Nobody asks for this. It's handed down. Generation after generation. It's a privilege and an honor. It's how we work. How we merge and grow."
I shake my head. "No."
"You have no other options."
"I can still-"
"You can't . I've already let the other universities know you won't be attending. Instead, you'll be touring Rayne-Moore's campus come spring. Set in stone, son. Now, sit down and I'll tell you why it's such a privilege, why it's an honor, and how you'll be my legacy."
My knee bounced as he spoke. His voice never rising in pitch or tone. Robotic.
"I don't want this." I repeated when he was done.
He leans back in his chair, leather. Expensive. Polished. Looking like the very epitome of wealth. "Oh son, everyone wants this. We are an amalgamation of everything one should fear. Power, wealth-"
I stand up, interrupting him. "It's not what I want."
"Then leave . And you'll be penniless. You go out in that world without this opportunity, and you'll live like they do.
Slaving away at a nine-to-five and barely making it.
Not even thriving, son. Barely surviving at a job you hate.
You may have gotten into those schools but without my money, the money we've accumulated from mergers and negotiations. .. you'll have no tuition."
He's dead serious.
"You're an asshole." I spit.
"No, son. I'm honest."
Hands on my hips I turn, then scrub my hands down my face. "So I have to kill someone?"
"It's a small price to pay to have the world at your feet. You think any of this would have been possible without your forefather’s sacrifices?"
I shake my head again, walking out of his office and up to my room and mourn my future .
I blink away the memory, keeping my eyes on the colonial home in front of me, watching as Raven kisses Damon and Maverick goodbye like she always does.
Every fucking morning I have to watch her practically mouth fuck them before they leave.
Big stupid grins on their faces as they step out of the door.
Christ. They hardly ever close the blinds.
And Jonas?
He's the worst .
But he doesn't leave early with her other men today which I was expecting.
Coincidentally, I overheard a conversation his father was having with mine about meeting NFL scouts.
It wasn't his fault they lost the game. He had been on the other side of the field, waiting for River to throw him the ball.
He never did. It was a selfish play, and stupid, costing them the State Championship by one fucking point.
I was rooting for them, you know? I really was. I mean, that was my team at one point.
But again, he's the one with the girl and I'm not.
He's the one chasing his dreams and I'm not.
No, instead I'm fucking watching them fuck like rabbits on their breakfast table, and goddamn, I always knew it, but Raven has the most perfect pair of teardrop tits I've ever seen.
Watching them bounce and dip to meet his tongue has me heating up.
I should look away. I should not shove my cold hand into my pants and jerk myself until I come with them. I shouldn't. But I do, wishing I could hear her fall apart for him. Imagining it's me she's clenching around.
I'm a fucking peeping Tom now. That’s what I’ve been reduced to.
A pervert hiding in the trees watching through binoculars, waiting for the perfect chance.
There's a slab of meat in my backpack for that big fucking dog of theirs.
I've thought of everything. Including going old-school and using chloroform and a rag, so I don't hurt her.
It's the last thing I want to do again.
Then again, I didn't partake last time.
I only watched .
I was a witness.
I should have stopped it, but when Tyler had suggested it, and it became an entire group thing due to Thadd and Simon overhearing him, it was supposed to be easy.
Four against one. Jacob as the lookout, me as the witness, but then Ashleigh.
.. fuck I always hated her. She really thought it would bring her and Thadd closer, but it tore them apart once she came back.
Raven did them a favor though. One was bound to kill the other sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.
It takes another hour, but Jonas finally leaves Raven for the day in a sleek black car, and she heads upstairs, opening the French balcony doors. For a moment, I watch with bated breath as she sits on a chair and out comes her cello.
She's everything I've ever wanted. Everything I've ever looked for in a woman, especially before. The women I dated could never hold a candle to Raven Olivia Monroe. Her laugh, her wit, her stubbornness, her drives, her dreams... she was perfect – is – perfect.
When the Prescott's got her during negotiations I was so upset. So fucking upset. Still, not as upset as Tyler. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know why I agreed. I should have stopped it. I had so many chances to make it right.
I didn’t want this.
She places her fingers on the strings, back straight, and lifts her bow and there.
.. I almost cry as the beginning notes to something I've only heard being streamed from Jonas' Instagram reels playing.
I'm getting a live performance and my heart cracks open.
The melody is so raw, so fucking tragic, so gut-wrenching but I can hear it now with her, the accompanying instruments.
It's all in her head, but she's going for it, building to a crescendo, loud and unapologetic.
A tear slips free, and I wipe it away quickly.
I don't have much time. Our jet leaves in a few hours.
I swear she spots me, like she did at Simon's funeral where I swear she was shouting, " Come out, come out, wherever you are!"
Well, here I come, Raven .
Trust me, it's better this way.
I only hope she’ll forgive me when she finds out everything. I don’t know what Prescott has planned for her. But it has to be me. Arlo is gone, and his henchmen, his lackeys are even worse.
The big dog of hers barks from downstairs, and she’s quick to stop playing, calling out to him, running down to him and I watch as she puts on her coat and boots.
Well, I guess it’s now or never.