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RAVEN

“ R emember when you threw up here?” Fen asks as we walk home from the last day of kindergarten for the summer, six days later.

All that awful rain and vomit is a distant memory. The sky is bluer. The sun a little more prominent.

“I do. Not my proudest moment.”

Fen laughs. “It looked so wild. It sort of fell out of your throat.”

“Yeah, well. It was gross. What did you do at kindergarten today?”

He skips, and I walk fast to keep up with him. “We read a book about a spider and a pig. And we did some number things. And I drew a picture for Axel. And we played some games.”

“That’s sounds like a good day. And I’m sure Axel will love your picture.” I think about the one he drew of me puking that still occupies fridge space in Axel’s kitchen. “What did you draw?”

“The horse from the sleepover. But I couldn’t color it brown because the brown crayon was too stumpy, so I used black. Can we see him today so I can give it to him?”

“I’m not sure what his plans are for tonight.” He usually finds his way back to us or asks Fen and me to go see him at his place, but he’s been busy with club business. We reached a compromise on what he tells me. I know where he is most of the time. I even know what he’s doing some of the time. Even if it’s illegal.

But I never know if anyone is killed.

“Okay. Can we have pizza for dinner?”

I grin and shake my head. “No. You need something with more vegetables.”

“Bor-ing,” Fen says in a singsong voice.

As we approach our apartment, I notice there’s a strange car parked on the street, but it’s not unusual for someone to park outside so they can pop into the hardware store.

“I need to pee,” Fen says suddenly. And I don’t know what it is about kids that they can’t decide that earlier. When they say it, it’s urgent.

I wrestle the key out of my pocket, slip it into the lock, and open the door.

Fen sprints up the stairs, and I laugh as I go to close the door, but someone slams their foot in the way.

When Marco’s face appears, I’m part terrified, part relieved. At least it isn’t the men who came to the house to look for him.

But my heart still stutters, dropping and racing.

“Are you alone?” he asks, like he isn’t forcing his way into my apartment.

“Marco, what are you doing here?”

He shoves the door open; I’m no match for his strength and leverage. “We need to talk.”

I take a look at his features. He’s disheveled. Unkempt. And exhausted.

A far cry from the man I married.

It’s not reassuring, and my palms sweat.

“You can’t be here,” I say. It’s weak, I know. But I don’t know how much trouble I’m in.

“Quick,” he says, his tone laced with anger. “It’s not safe out here.”

I add the word paranoid to my list of things he is. “That’s not my responsibility.”

He shoves me back, not hard, but enough so that I stumble the few extra steps so he can close the door. My back hits one of the hooks on the doorway that we hang our coats on.

“Get up the stairs,” he says.

I don’t want to go. I’m the only thing keeping Marco separate from Fen.

“Go,” he yells, and his face contorts into an angry, red mess.

I jump, flinch a little, and do as he says, but when I get to the top, I turn to face him. “Let me go check on Fen. You know what happens when he has an accident.”

Marco used to get annoyed when Fen peed his pants. He hasn’t done it for over a year, but Marco wouldn’t know that. He hasn’t been an active part of Fen’s life for the last twelve months, even though we lived in the same house. It’s simply a way to get into the bathroom and use my phone.

“Fuck’s sake,” Marco mutters, taking in my apartment from the top of the stairs. “Go.”

I hurry to the bathroom, knowing Fen never leaves the door locked. He’s just finishing up as I step inside and lock it.

“Phew. That was the longest pee, Mom,” he says as he zips his pants. “Is Axel here?”

He hurries to reach the door handle to greet him, but I reach for his wrist and stop him. “No, sweetheart. I need you to be quiet.”

“Why?”

“Shh. One second. Just wash your hands.”

I grab my phone from the back pocket of my jeans while Fen does as I say. I don’t know what Marco’s plans are, but given he seems frantic, I have to assume the car outside is his and that we are in danger. I don’t have much time, so I quickly send a text to Wraith.

Me: In trouble. Help. Marco at the apartment.

“What are you doing?” Fen asks.

“Your dad is outside, and I want Axel to come help us.”

“Jesus. What’s the kid doing in there?” Marco yells from outside.

My Man: On our way.

The tight band in my chest loosens a fraction. The immediate response helps. And the word our implies he’s bringing some of his club with him.

“You stay in here,” I say. “Run a bath, but don’t get in it. Just let your dad think you are getting in it.”

“I’m scared.” His face is gray.

“So am I, but we can do this together. Lock the bathroom door after me and only open it for me or Axel, no matter what your dad says to you.”

Fen throws his arms around my waist. If this were one of those Reddit posts, I suppose it would ask if I’m the asshole for scaring my son when I don’t know what my ex-husband will do. But I’ll always, always put his safety first and explain later.

“Be as strong and brave as you can be, Fen. Okay?” I kiss the top of his head before leaving.

“He needs to take a bath,” I say finally when I step out and hear the door lock and water start to fill the tub. “How did you know where I was?”

“A friend I made a lot of money for owed me a favor. Cell phone towers are sparse here. Then I asked around.”

Shit. Wraith warned me that could happen when he picked me up to take me to the clubhouse that first time.

“When it gets dark, we need to leave for Seattle,” he says.

This is good news. It’s hours until darkness. I don’t know where Wraith was when he got the message, but it won’t be so far that he can’t get here for me quickly.

“We had this conversation already,” I say. “I can’t help you. I’m not leaving here. I just got settled.”

Marco looks around the apartment. “Yeah, looks like you created a palace.”

I huff. “Feels more like home than our house ever did.”

Marco scowls. “I did everything I could to create a perfect home for the two of you.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t. You pursued your own goals and got us into a mess. Is that why you’re here?”

“They aren’t going to stop looking for me until I fix it.” He pulls his coat jacket back and I see he’s carrying some kind of gun.

“If they want you, why drag me and Fen into the path of danger?”

“Because you enjoyed the money,” he shouts. “Like every other bitch expecting to be looked after.”

My jaw drops wide. “I didn’t need any of it. We were happy when we had nothing. You’re the one who got greedy. Why are there men looking for you? And who are they?”

“The Bratva. They don’t understand how investments roll. There are upswings and downswings, and the Bratva have very little tolerance for the downs.” He puts his head in his hands. “No one understands. I just need it to come back. I need to get what’s in the safe, cash in some shit, and then I’ll have enough to trade to make the money back.”

I imagine the Bratva are acutely aware of how investments work, and that my husband squandered their money in some way. “How is that my problem?”

He looks up at me. “You’ll have spousal privilege if something goes wrong. You won’t have to tell the police or lawyers what you were in the house for.”

I shake my head, losing my cool. “That’s not what spousal privilege is. And I’m not even sure that’s relevant. If you need the money, you’d have been better off driving straight there to get what you need.”

“I can’t let them see me.”

I scoff. “So, what you really want is me to take the risk? Walk into our old house and hope the Bratva aren’t watching it. And if they are, I’m the one who gets hurt or taken or whatever.”

“It’s not like that.”

“And where do I leave Fen while all this happens?”

“With me. He’s my insurance.”

I shake my head. “No. I need you to get out of my house.”

He stands abruptly. “Get Fen out of the bath. We’re leaving now.”

Where are you, Wraith?

The question flits through my mind. Everything is a mess in my head, but I know I need to think clearly if we’re going to get rid of Marco.

And I’ve changed. Because if Wraith’s action to remove him is permanent, I’m not sure I mind.

Marco can’t repeatedly bring danger to Fen and me.

But then, in Marco’s absence, will the Bratva simply keep coming for me in the hope that Marco syphoned money away and hid it with me?

“I need to pack,” I say. “For Fen and me.”

Marco shakes his head. “We’ll drive straight through, and you can grab some more things at the house.”

“It’s a nearly twenty-hour drive. We can’t drive all the way there. And Fen can’t sit in the same clothes for two days.”

“Fine. Grab what you need. But it isn’t everything. A backpack, maybe.”

Marco hasn’t asked how I got here, why Colorado, why this apartment, or how I’ve been making money.

Wraith knows the answers to all those questions.

Marco is so fixated on what he needs from the house that all the other details about life have been utterly overlooked.

His plan doesn’t even make sense. If the safe had that much money in it, he would have taken the funds from it first. And even the best financial wizard would take a while to spin back up the kind of returns he likely needs to pay everyone off.

“Fine,” I concede, like I’m trying to be reasonable. “I’ll pack bags for Fen and me.”

But when I step into Fen’s room, I hope I can stall long enough for Wraith to arrive.