Chapter 6 The debt

Chapter 6:

RAVEN'S POV

The SUV dropped me three blocks away from my apartment at the early hours of the morning.

I walked the rest, hood pulled low, heels swapped for sneakers in the back seat. The duffel over my shoulder felt heavier tonight, cash bundles from three private rooms, the mask and wig stuffed deep, the faint scent of cigar smoke and client cologne still clinging to my skin.

My jaw ached from the last booking, thighs burning from kneeling on hardwood, but the real pain was deeper, seeing damien from a very close range and not gutting him out burned on me like a brand I couldn't scrub off.

I turned the corner onto my block and froze.

Exotic cars lined the curb. Not the usual rusted sedans or delivery vans.

Fleets of them, matte-black G-Wagons, gleaming Lamborghinis, a Bentley with windows so dark they swallowed light.

Seven in total, parked like a silent army.

No plates visible.

Engines off, but the air felt alive with threat.

This street didn't see cars like this and it troubled me.

Panic surged through me, cold, sharp, flooding my veins like ice water.

Lila.

She's alone, i left my daughter all alone for the night.

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I tasted copper. I dropped low, using a parked junker for cover, scanning windows, rooftops, shadows.

No drivers visible, no movement.

My hand slipped to the thigh sheath, fingers brushing the blade.

Pulse kicking to ninety, then one hundred. I forced it down. Control, i always control myself.

But the fear was alive now, crawling under my skin, whispering, too late, too fucking late.

I moved fast, sticking to shadows, circling the building. Back entrance clear.

Up the fire escape, rusted metal creaking under my weight, each groan sounding like a gunshot in the quiet. My window was locked, curtains drawn. No breach.

Front door then.

I circled back, breath shallow, heart hammering so loud I swore the night could hear it. The building door was propped open, just an inch. Someone had jammed the lock.

Panic took full control. Visions flashed, Lila's room, small and safe, her bear clutched under chin, gray eyes wide with fear.

I shaked the off my head as fast as it came.

No. Not her. Not my baby.

Composure snapped into battle mode. Knife out, gun corked, I pushed the building door open with my boot, body angled low. Hallway empty. Stairs clear. Third floor, my door.

Slightly open. Two inches. Light bleeding from inside.

Fear for Lila's safety clawed at my throat, rawl.

I swallowed it.

Pushed the door open with the knife tip, hinge creaked. The living room came into view,table lamp on, tea mug steaming on the table. Lila wasn't on the couch. No blood. No struggle signs. But the air smelled wrong, expensive cologne, cigar smoke, danger.

I stepped inside, knife low, gun raised high, and the door clicked shut behind me.

Oscar lounged in my armchair like it was his throne.

Black silk shirt unbuttoned at the chest, sleeves rolled to reveal forearms corded with old scars and faded tattoos.

Dark hair slicked back, eyes black as bottomless pits.

A predator wearing human skin, smiling that slow, thin smile that showed too many teeth.

He swirled a glass of my cheap bourbon, ice clinking like tiny bones.

"Hello, pet."

The word slithered through the room, deadly and intimate.

I kept the knife raised, gun aimed at his chest. "We had a deal," I said, voice flat but edged with steel. "You never show up in front of my daughter."

Oscar's smile widened, eyes glinting with amusement and something darker. "Ohhh, my pet..." He leaned forward, elbows on knees, glass dangling loosely.

His voice was velvet over razor blades, low and predatory, like he was toying with prey before the kill. "But you broke your part of the deal first."

I didn't move. My mind raced. Lila's door was closed, but Oscar's men were definitely outside. If he wanted her, he could have taken her.

"I don't whore for you," I said, words sharp. "I only kill for you. You do not own me or my body Oscar!"

He chuckled, low and wet, like blood bubbling in a wound.

"Ohhh, but you got it all wrong." He said, setting the glass down with deliberate slowness, stood in one fluid motion that made the room feel smaller. Taller than most men i know, shoulders broad, moving with the grace of a panther stalking. The air thickened with his presence, cigar smoke, expensive leather, the underlying threat of violence. "I own you.

Everything about you. Your hands. Your blades. Your nights. Your secrets. You work for me."

Tension coiled in my gut. "What do you want?"

"I heard news." He said, circling me slowly, predatory, never touching but close enough I felt the heat from his body. His breath brushed my neck as he paused behind me.

"Unpleasant ones, Raven. You've been playing in someone else's sandbox. Damien Blackwood's little playground.

Letting rich men drool over what belongs to me."

My jaw clenched. "It's a cover Oscar, It gets me closer to a target."

"Closer to a target?" Oscar stopped in front of me, leaning in, his face inches from mine. His eyes locked on, unblinking, deadly. "Or closer to a cock? I saw the footage, pet. The way you drop to your knees. The way you control them. Very... professional. But you forgot who taught you control."

I pressed the gun to his throat, steady, not shaking.

"How did you get those videos? Is Damien aware of it?"

"Don't pet."

"I have eyes all over the country, even men like Damien's world can still be penetrated."

He didn't flinch. Just smiled wider, pressing into the edge enough to draw a thin line of blood.

"Your daughter is ten already." His voice dropped to a velvet growl, dangerous and intimate. "Stick to your part of the deal... or she will complete it for you."

Cold sweat broke across my back, my forehead. "Please," I whispered, the word tasting like ash, breaking from my lips despite the gun in my. "You won't do that to me."

Oscar tilted his head, studying me like prey, his smile predatory, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "Begging already? That's new." He reached out, slow, brushed a knuckle down my cheek, gentle, almost tender, but the touch felt like poison.

"Seems like your little night at Velvet reservoir already softened you.

Come to Darkar. Tomorrow by midnight. We can discuss there. Just you... and me."

He stepped back, casual, as if he hadn't just threatened my child. "Midnight tomorrow. Bring nothing but yourself. I'll send a car."

He moved toward the door. Paused. "And Raven?"

I didn't answer.

"Don't make me come collect what's mine."

The door opened. Closed. Silence rushed in.

I stood frozen, gun still in drawn, breath ragged.

Then the soft creak of a door handle.

Lila's bedroom door swung open.

My daughter stepped out, rubbing sleepy eyes with one fist, stuffed bear dangling from the other hand. Hair mussed, oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder.

"Mommy?" Her voice was small, thick with sleep. "Why are you standing there with that?" she said pointing at the gun in my hand.

My heart cracked open.

I dropped the gun. It clattered on the floor.

Lila blinked, confused. "Mommy?"

I crossed the room in three strides, dropped to my knees, pulled her into my arms so hard she squeaked. Buried my face in soft hair that smelled like strawberry shampoo and safety.

"I'm keeping for a friend, baby," I whispered, voice breaking for the first time in years. "I'm right here."

Lila hugged back, sleepy and trusting. "Was someone here? I heard voices."

I closed my eyes. "Just a bad dream."

I held tighter.

But the fracture in my chest was now a canyon.

And midnight tomorrow was coming fast.