Page 132 of Stutter

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.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jonas.

“Ready?” Maverick asks, backing out of the parking spot from the airport.

“Fuck yes, just get me home to our girl, please.” I reply, fastening my seatbelt then fixing it so it doesn’t rub against my neck or choke me.

Damon chuckles from beside Maverick. “We’ll be there soon. It’s still early and there’s no traffic.”

I haven’t talked to her all day. Even with our quickie this morning, it was so hard to go. The coaches and scouts for the New York NFL team I met with were promising great things. Yes, there would be a bit of traveling but from February to mid-July I would be pretty free. I would also be able to have my girl (and guy) and Maverick come with me. I told them we are a unit. I’m sure one of the two wouldn’t mind staying behind with Mav since he’ll be teaching at Columbia come Fall. Plus, as a Texan, the man almost bleeds football. When I asked what team he rooted for he just grinned and said whatever team I play for will be his favorite. Which made me squirm inside.

So I grunted at him, Maverick-style.

We signed on the mansion in Brooklyn Heights, Mav almost fainting when he saw the fifteen million dollar price tag, but we assured him it was no big deal, and it would be his houseas much as ours, but he offered to put in whatever his old house sold for to contribute to the price and we agreed. Whatever makes him feel more at ease. I mean, I know what it’s like to think you have a home and family and then it’s taken away from you out of nowhere. Even without this money, his name will be on the deed. But if this is what he needs to have peace of mind, then so be it.

Damon put our house up for sale, unfortunately not with Maxine as our realtor, and I didn’t let him choose any members of the Syndicate that were listed as realtors in the area. The last thing those fuckers deserve is our money.

“So, it turns out none of the pictures found at the Hoover mansion were of any women that were reported missing in the area.” He tells us, merging onto the highway that takes us straight home. “But your mother was right. They found more paperwork with the Whitmore’s the more they dug deeper. There’s a new ongoing investigation.”

I tap my fingers along my knee, something not settling well with me.

“The good thing is there is nothing mentioning the Andersons.”

I look up at him in the rearview mirror and roll my eyes. “The Whitmore’s, Hoovers, Winters’, Mikaelson’s, etcetera, they’re all medium to low on the money pole. Of course the Andersons aren’t touching them.”

“The Winters’? That’s Sabrina’s family name isn’t it?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’m sure they’d be up higher if her brother hadn’t drowned when he was twelve and they could’ve negotiated with someone and arranged a marriage. They’re divorce lawyers.”

“I thought you couldn’t divorce in the Syndicate.”

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