Page 1 of Twisted Games of Revenge

Chapter 1

“Ravens Hollow authorities havelaunched an investigation following the discovery of a stolen burnt-out Mercedes with human remains behind Black Raven Grill last night. The burning vehicle was found by staff just after seven. Local firefighters were called to the scene to extinguish the flames. Once the fire was under control, emergency personnel discovered a body inside the charred remains of the vehicle.

Ravens Hollow police have not yet released the identity of the victim, and investigators are treating the death as suspicious, leaving many questions unanswered about the circumstances surrounding their passing. The cause of the fire is still being investigated, and authorities haven’t dismissed the possibility of foul play, potentially linked to the ongoing gang violence that’s gripping our city. Forensic teams have cordoned off the area, collecting evidence to determine what led to this tragic incident.

The police are urging anyone with information that could help their investigation to come forward.”The news broadcastdrones on, her voice a flat monotone that ads nothing to the anguish I felt walking away from that vehicle.

I flick off the news broadcast having already seen enough. Running a hand through my tangled curls, I slump down on the end of my cheap motel bed. I’m more confused than ever. There was no body in Dani’s car when I left it on fire. What the hell could have happened after I took off? How does a body just appear?

I can’t think about that today, I have bigger fish to fry. Like tracking down that motherfucker Enzo Moretti. I pull out the hand-scrawled list of places Enzo likes to frequent. Dani sure was thorough in her research on him. She has everything from coffee joints to bars and restaurants, giving me plenty of options for where to start my hunt.

I tug my hoodie up over my vibrant hair, making sure to tuck any loose strands under the soft black fabric, then push my combat knife into the back pocket of my black skinny jeans and tie up the laces of my boots. Leaving the compact space of the motel behind and the few possessions in my small backpack, I lock the door with a click of the handle.

As I walk down the dingy streets of Ravens Hollow underworld, the sun beams down on me, making me sweat like mad under the dark hoodie I can’t take off. It feels like danger lurks around every street corner, even though it’s close to midday. This part of the neighborhood is damaged with the scars of violence, graffiti and bullet holes marking the territory of the gangs that call this part of the city home, the Strykers being at the top of the pecking order. I stick to the shadows, trying to blend in like I’m supposed to be here. Just another delinquent looking for my next payday.

By now the boys and my brother will all know I’m gone. Dani would have had to call Geovani and Marco and tell them what I did. I’m sure they are furious with me. But I can’t dwell on theirfeelings. They’re alive, and for now, that’s all that matters. I have taken a target off all their backs. The Moretti brothers can move on with their lives without me bringing constant threat to them, and Geovani, Dani, and Marco can work with that cop and finish what we all started, working out a way to take down Enzo before it’s too late.

When I find the café I’m looking for, I slip into an adjacent side street and lean my shoulder into a solid brick wall. Just as Dani said he would be, Enzo sits in the mostly vacant café, letting his presence be known. His booming laugh finds my ears from all the way across the street as he talks with Mayor Chambly.

Alessandro is wrong about one thing. Him taking charge of the Moretti businesses hasn’t knocked Enzo off his perch. He’s still charming the important people, and that only means one thing. He’s offering them something Alessandro and the other boys can’t or won’t. Their conversation winds down quickly, and soon they’re both pushing back from the cafe table, Enzo giving Chambly a hearty slap on the back before they depart in different directions. I could go either way, but Enzo knows my face and it’s way too risky. Instead, I move along the street in the same direction as Chambly, wondering what he’s up to.

He walks for a couple of blocks then heads down a gap between two shops and knocks at a black door with an oversized number ten in gold letters, right at the end of the alleyway. I glance back up the street to see if I can find the address. The buildings flanking this spot appear on Google Maps, but this place seems completely non-existent, unless it’s the hidden back entrance of the flower shop across the street.

As I round the corner, I pause to scrutinize the door, its peeling jet-black paint giving nothing away. I move in closer and can hear the rhythmic beat of dance music pumping through the air. I could knock just like the mayor did, but it’s too risky when Ihave no idea what is on the other side of the door. Instead, I find a place across the street and wait.

An hour later, he returns. No other person came or left in that time, just him. Perhaps he knows the person who owns the florist? But something tells me that place is more like a club or something, one that’s raging even at lunch time. Chambly moves quickly across the street, glancing over his shoulder a few times before hopping in a silver Cadillac Escalade. As he hurries into the car, something slips from his pocket, a flash of fluorescent green.

I watch as he drives off down the street, that same small slip of paper flying up in the air behind his car. I move across the street and collect the paper, inspecting it. It has the stamp from Sinners Paradise on it and what looks like a girl’s name on the other side. Cindy, #246. Whatever that means.

I pocket the slip of paper and start the long walk back to the accommodation I’m staying in, pretty sure that was all a big fat waste of time.

The melodic beat of blues music has me feeling even more down than I was when I arrived in this place a couple of hours ago. I pull my hoodie further around my face, making sure my vibrant red hair is concealed completely.

Through a straw, I take another sip of my sickly-sweet lemonade, wishing it was laced with spirits to fight off the cloud of depression following me around since I pulled that gun on Dani and stole her Mercedes. But I know I need a clear head tonight.

After my dead end this morning, I thought I might try another potential lead. The Raven’s Nest is a classy establishment, considering what I think takes place inside these walls. Sex, drugdeals, and whatever gang members do on the regular in this dodgy part of town.

The main bar consists of a large, enchanting room with a bar in the center and booths all-round the perimeter. The entire space is dark and moody, featuring luxurious black and silver finishes and fine-crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. Even I have to admit the owner, Sloane Stryker, has exceptional taste, especially for the type of business she’s conducting here, but I guess this room is a front for the more sordid things that happen behind the roped-off rooms in the back. That must be where all the fun takes place. The elite members-only section the boys were telling me about just a couple of nights ago.

From the little I saw of her the other evening, Sloane doesn’t come across like the other gangsters that take up space in this neighborhood. She’s something else entirely, and I’m fascinated. Overhearing that conversation between her and her staff member the other night in the bathroom is one of the reasons I decided to ditch my escape plan and stay and fight. I’m not the only one who hates Enzo Moretti with a passion.

After walking away from Dani’s burning vehicle, I quickly sought refuge in a nearby store, buying a new mobile phone, before taking a taxi back to this part of Ravens Hollow with one thing on my mind—Enzo Moretti and making him pay for everything he stole from me. Someone needs to make him pay. Why not me?

As much as my chest radiates a pain I have never felt before, I have to block the boys from my mind. All four of them. I can’t afford to dwell on those memories; it will only shatter me all over again. I allowed myself to cry the first night, but not anymore; my days of letting my emotions rule me are done. I need to be more like the fascinating woman who owns this place. Hard and fierce, taking what I want from life. I can’t afford emotion or love. I’m still here with one thing on my mind: killing EnzoMoretti before he has a chance to hurt anyone else I care about. And since I know for a fact he frequents this club, I figure this is as good a place as anywhere to start spying on him.

The kind of blonde that makes heads turn strides right past me. I can’t help but watch her in awe. She has on a pair of black tailored pants that hug her long legs and a white button-down shirt. Her long hair flows softly over her shoulders, sleek and shimmering under the low lights like silk. Her sky-high heels click along the concrete as she walks with purpose. She’s trailed by a tall burly guy in a leather jacket and faded jeans.

“It’s been four days, Ash, where the fuck is she?” She scowls, her normally delicate features hardening as pain etches itself across her face.

Yeah, with my new phone and access to the internet I’ve spent my spare time indulging in a little research on the Stryker family, and I know this about Sloane Stryker: she’s one of five siblings, the youngest and only girl, and member of the Iron Strykers gang. She’s as ruthless as she is pretty, and from the way she conducts herself around this place, I can see she’s treated like one of the boys. It’s impressive to watch and nearly impossible in this world. I want to be just like her. But for now, I need to be invisible, so I lower my head and move into the shadows cast over my booth.

Sloane and her brother, Asher, take a seat at the booth beside mine, not even noticing me. “She’ll show up, little sister. For fuck’s sake, you know Pia, she takes off for weeks at a time. Probably found some new sugar daddy to whisk her off to the Hamptons for a week or some shit.”

I cringe at the thought. That poor girl found a sugar daddy alright, but she’s not on some fancy holiday. She’s probably at the bottom of Ravens Hollow dam with cement shoes.

“Trust me, Asher, this is different. Myriah admitted to me she’s been seeing Enzo Moretti behind all of our backs. The lastMyriah heard, Pia was meeting with him for the night. Then she just vanished. That’s not a motherfucking coincidence.” I hear the pain in her furious voice, and I feel terrible for the poor girl. It’s no coincidence her friend never came back, she’s right about that. She’s another victim of Enzo’s violence. And another good reason I have to stop him before he hurts someone else.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” A growl rumbles out of him, and he bangs his fists down on his table so hard it vibrates right through to my booth. “Why the fuck would she be so stupid?”

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