Page 12 of Raven

“The way that should be none of his business if he weren't involved with you. Is he?”

“It’s not what you think.”

A little snort escapes Bo.

I roll my eyes at him. “Stop, Bo. It’s nothing.”

Bo doesn’t reply, only crosses his leg over the other and continues staring at me.

I shake my head, annoyed.

“You’ve never been a good liar, Maddy. Except for one thing.”

Oh, I know where this is going, that “one thing.”

When we lived on the Eastside, Bo and I had to navigate through a lot of shit to keep the Outcasts safe and sane. We went through many dramas. Traumas, too. When Archer sent guards to deliver the records of the deceased from the mainland—a shitty move, for sure—many Outcasts opened up, talked about their families, grieved.

One night, I had too much to drink. I was missing Dad. And I was so tired of holding my secret and was wondering if I would go insane. So, I told Bo my story.

He was the only one who knew back then. He never brought it up again, never spoke of it. Bo is that kind of guy.

But now when I meet his eyes, I know what’s coming.

Bo is not smiling anymore when he says, “Does that guy know who you are?”

6

MILENA / MADDY

TWO YEARS AGO / TWO DAYS BEFORE SPRING BREAK

“Ladies, you two are like an angel and a devil,” the cute guy says drunkenly, and both Maddy and I burst out laughing.

“Which one do you like?” I ask sassily, leaning against him while Maddy does the same on his other side.

His eyes widen. The rich boy is quite drunk, his head bobbing to the loud electronic music as we press against him from both sides, and he’s sinking lower into the couch of my VIP section.

I’ve never seen him in this club, and considering he ordered Cierto tequila, he’s used to getting the best.

Maddy and I exchange playful glances and cheer, then down our shots. I right away grab his and down it too.

“Easy, tiger.” He smiles at me and wraps his arms around both of us. “Now that you asked, I think I like both of you.”

Laughing, I jump up from the couch and start dancing, letting the hem of my tiny Givenchy dress ride up, giving him a show.

Maddy leans into him and murmurs something into his ear, her fingers sneaking between the buttons of his dress shirt.

I like this guy and can tell he likes me more than Maddy, though I don’t care and neither does she.

Besides the fact that my hair is dyed blonde and hers dark-chestnut, we look like sisters. Same age, height, and body type. All dolled up and with layers of makeup, the resemblance is startling. When we wore wigs last Halloween, even my bodyguard mistook her for me, which was hilarious when he took her all the way from the club to her house, and then she said, “Now go pick up Milena.”

The bodyguard almost had a heart attack, realizing his mistake. My father would’ve killed him. Or worse. There are worse things one of the richest men in Asia and Europe with ties to the mafia can do than killing. Trust me, I know.

“What’s your name again?” the pretty boy asks. I think his name is Patrick.

I swing my hips, dancing closer to him, nudging between his wide-spread legs.

Maddy leans over. “Maddy. It’s Maddy, baby.”

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