Page 82 of Stone Crest: Rise of a Raven
Father. Please.
Stepping into the house, I weave through the hallway and into the dining room. I spot the man who claimed to raise me. He still looks the same. Not a hair out of place, an unreasonable amount of Botox, and a crisp black suit.
“Raven.” His angry voice booms. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by. A phone call obviously wasn’t sufficient enough since you’ve yet again, been avoiding them.”
“Are we going to continue to do this, Arthur?” I take a seat at the opposite end of the table. “You can drop theI care act.We both know you aren’t here to check on me.” I tap my nails along the table. “Tell me. What shade of lipstick is Gemma wearing tonight?”
He frowns.
I smirk. “You’d probably have to unzip those pants to check.”
His cheeks flame red. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not here for me.”
“Excuse me,” he scoffs. “You’re my daughter, of course I am.”
“Correction.” I cross my legs. “I’m not your daughter and we both know it.”
His face never changes. His expression stone cold. “Now, Raven. What would your mother think of you saying things like that?”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m not sure. She’s dead.”
His eyes narrow, but I catch the slight movement as they switch to behind my right shoulder.
I feel a presence approaching, but before I can turn around, a small prick hits the skin on my neck.
“Wha….” I don’t get the words out before everything goes black.
Distant voices are humming in the background when I blink my eyes open. They’re heavy. Not fully functioning but I can see the rafters above me.
“Two hundred thousand.” I hear Gemma’s voice. “That’s what we agreed on for delivery.”
“We did.”
I don’t recognize the voice that answers. It’s male, but other than that it’s not familiar.
“Salvatore. Give them the cash,” he orders.
Cash?
A loud thud echos in front of me, but all I see is the back of Gemma’s nude heels as I peel open my eyes again. I want to keep them open, but the damn things keep closing.
I shift to move my arm, but something is restraining me. My fingers brush against the rough exterior of a rope that is bound around my wrists behind my back.
So much for wine and shit talking tonight.
I try to wiggle my shoulders, but my whole body feels limp. Like dead weight.
“Thank you,” Gemma clips.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” Arthur’s voice grates along my skin like a rusty blade.
The bag is picked up, but a sudden gunshot has me jolting against the concrete I’m currently sprawled out on.
“Baby, you got blood on my blouse.” Gemma wines.
“Sorry my love. Let me get that,” the man rasps.
