Page 16

MIRELLA

The room was quiet after Sergio left, but my heart wasn’t. It was pounding so loudly I was sure the entire floor could hear it. I stared at the closed door for a moment, trying to get my thoughts in order, but they refused to settle.

The truth was, if Sergio had wanted to go further, I wouldn’t have stopped him. No, I wanted him as much as he wanted me, maybe more. That kiss left me feeling like I was on fire, and the idea of extinguishing it now felt impossible. But I wasn’t just Mirella. I was Raven, too, and Raven didn’t lose control.

Still, being in this town again stirred something in me, something I hadn’t felt in years. It was the same place I’d come to when I thought my father had died. And when the father of my child died right in front of me, I relocated here to bury my grief and figure out my life.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the photos I kept hidden. One caught my eye—a picture of a little restaurant with blue shutters and a cozy courtyard. My dad used to take me there when I was a kid. I smiled at the memory of his booming laugh as he told me silly stories over bowls of pasta too big for me to finish. After his “death,” I started going there every Saturday, alone, as a way to feel close to him. It became a ritual, a place to breathe. Over time, it became my sanctuary.

Back then, I wasn’t Raven yet. I was just Mirella—broken, lost, and trying to survive. The town embraced me in ways I didn’t expect. It gave me Enzo and Dahlia, the two people who became my family.

I first met Enzo in the middle of a rainstorm. I was standing outside a market, soaked to the bone and cursing myself for not checking the weather. My car had broken down, and I was stuck with a bag of groceries and no plan. Enzo pulled up in an old truck, leaning out the window with an umbrella in one hand and a grin that could rival the sun.

“Need a ride, Bella?” His voice was warm, teasing.

I hesitated. “You could be a serial killer for all I know.”

“Do I look like a serial killer?” He held up the umbrella as if it was proof of his good intentions.

“To be fair, they usually don’t advertise it,” I shot back, but I was already walking toward the truck.

The ride was short, but by the time he dropped me off, we’d covered everything from the best pizza in town to why he thought pineapple didn’t belong on it. He handed me a business card before driving off, saying, “If you ever need anything, call me.”

A week later, I did. And that was the beginning of our partnership.

Dahlia came a few months later. I was at the restaurant one Saturday, sitting in my usual corner with a book, when a young woman in a bright red dress burst in, looking like she was about to cry. The waiter tried to tell her the place was fully booked, but I waved him over and told him to let her sit with me.

She hesitated, her eyes darting between me and the empty chair. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

“I could use the company,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie.

She sat down, and we ended up talking for hours. She told me about her messy breakup, her dreams of opening a bakery, and how she felt like she didn’t belong anywhere. I told her a little about myself—just enough to let her know she wasn’t alone.

By the time we finished dessert, I’d offered her a job as my assistant. “You’re crazy,” she said, laughing, but she took the job anyway.

Now, years later, I was still here, and so were they. My phone buzzed, pulling me back to the present. I glanced at the screen—Enzo. I had sent him a message earlier.

“Let me guess,” he said the second I answered. “You want something.”

“I need you to book out the restaurant for tonight,” I said, already anticipating his objections.

“Why? What are you up to?”

“I’m going. Not as Mirella. As Raven.”

There was a pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Are you out of your mind? That’s a terrible idea.”

“I know what I’m doing, Enzo.”

“No, you don’t,” he snapped. “You’re walking into a trap, and for what? Nostalgia?”

“It’s not just nostalgia,” I responded, my voice firm. “That place... it’s important to me. And if I’m going to face whatever’s coming, I need to do it as Raven. Not hiding. Not pretending to be a ghost.”

“Mirella,” his tone softened, but the worry was still there. “This isn’t just about you anymore. Think about what’s at stake.”

“I am,” I said, though a part of me knew he was right. “But I need this. Trust me.”

There was a long silence before he sighed. “Fine. But if this goes south, don’t expect me to bail you out.”

I smiled despite myself. “You always bail me out.”

“Yeah, well, one of these days, you’re going to owe me more than I can collect.”

We hung up, and I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. This wasn’t just about the restaurant or the memories tied to it. It was about reclaiming a part of myself I’d buried too deep.

The knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. For a moment, I considered pretending I wasn’t there, but Sergio wasn’t the type to just leave. Another knock, firmer this time, followed by his voice .

“It’s time, Mirella.”

I sighed, dragging myself to the door. When I opened it, Sergio’s face shifted, softening as if he were reading my hesitation before I could speak.

“I’m not going,” I muttered, arms crossed to hide how uneasy I felt. “I’d rather stay here. Alone.”

His eyebrows pulled together, confusion and maybe a hint of hurt crossing his face. “Is this about the kiss?” His voice lowered just enough to make my chest tighten. “Because if it is, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not—”

He cut me off. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I just...” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I find it difficult to stay away from you. But if you want me to, I will.”

I wasn’t expecting that. Part of me wanted to laugh at how serious he looked, but the other part—the part that wasn’t quite ready to face him—felt a pang of guilt.

“It’s not about the kiss, Sergio,” I said, softening my tone. “I just... I need some space. That’s all.”

“Space,” he repeated, almost like he didn’t believe me. “From me or from all of this?”

I hesitated. “From everything.”

He studied me for a moment, his jaw tight like he wanted to argue but was holding back. “Fine,” he finally said, stepping back. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give you space. But just know I’m not going far.”

I watched him walk away, his shoulders tense. The door clicked shut, and I leaned against it, exhaling slowly. I wasn’t sure if I was more relieved or disappointed. Maybe both.

But there was no time to dwell on it. If I wasn’t going with Sergio, I was still going. Alone.

I thought about what Enzo had said about the risks and the stakes. He wasn’t wrong. But he also didn’t understand what that restaurant meant to me, what it meant to show Don Carlos that Raven wasn’t scared of him. He might think Mirella is, but not Raven. It wasn’t just a place to prove a point. It was a reminder of who I was before the world broke me and who I could be again.

The dress I chose was sleek and midnight black, fitting like a second skin. It wasn’t just clothing; it was armor. The fabric shimmered faintly under the light, a subtle touch that made me feel like a ghost slipping through the night. Over it, I draped a long cloak with a hood that shadowed my face.

Then came the mask. It was delicate, covering my entire face with black feathers fanning out at the edges. Hidden within it was a voice modulator, something I had Dahlia’s friend design for me years ago. When I spoke, it would deepen and distort my voice, giving Raven her signature sound—low, smooth, and slightly menacing.

Finally, the hat. It was wide-brimmed with a veil of black netting that fell just over my mask, adding another layer of mystery. When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. The woman staring back wasn’t Mirella. She was someone else entirely.

Raven.

I pulled the hood over my head and felt a familiar rush of power. Mirella might have been unsure, hesitant. But Raven? She didn’t hesitate. She acted. And tonight, she had a purpose.

The cool night air greeted me as I slipped out of the room. The halls were quiet, with the kind of silence that made every step feel louder than it was. I avoided the main exits, taking the side stairs that led to a back door. It wasn’t my first time sneaking out, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Outside, the shadows stretched long, and I moved between them like I belonged there. In some ways, I did. The streets of this town had seen me at my lowest, and now they would see me at my strongest.

I reached the car Enzo had sent for me. The driver didn’t ask questions or even glance at me as I slipped into the backseat. That was the beauty of being Raven. People didn’t want to know who you were. They just wanted to stay out of your way.

As the car rolled through the streets, I thought about Sergio again. The way his lips lingered on mine, the way his hands had gripped my waist like he was afraid I’d disappear. He was trying to figure me out, trying to reach the parts of me I wasn’t ready to show him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But then, I thought about the way he’d looked at me when I told him I needed space like he was willing to step back even though it hurt him. That kind of restraint wasn’t easy, not for someone like Sergio.

The car came to a stop outside the restaurant. My restaurant. The one I’d been coming to for years, hiding in plain sight. I adjusted my mask, pulling the veil down to ensure my face was hidden.

Tonight wasn’t about memories or sentimentality. It wasn’t even about Sergio or his father.

It was about me. Raven.

I stepped out of the car, my cloak billowing slightly in the breeze, and headed for the door. Enzo had done as I asked. The restaurant was dark, save for the warm glow of candles in the windows. Empty, just the way I liked it.

I pushed the door open, and the familiar scent of garlic and fresh bread washed over me. For a moment, I was just Mirella again, a little girl sitting at a table with her father, laughing over stories that didn’t matter.

But that was a long time ago.

Now, I was someone else entirely.