𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒 | SPINOFF

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

AVERY
RAVEN

"Dad, no!" My scream tore through the air like a frenzied bird trying to escape a cage. I had just crossed the threshold of the house, feeling the brief comfort of being home, only for it to be ripped from me as he grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the car. "Where are you taking me?" My voice cracked, the words a desperate plea, a prayer that fell on deaf ears. "Stop!" I shouted, pulling against his vice-like grip, but it was impossible.

The car's door slammed shut with a finality that echoed in my chest. He shoved me into the passenger seat, locking me in as if I were nothing more than an object to be confined. Before I could even register the chaos swirling in my head, he was in the driver's seat, starting the engine with a growl that made my skin crawl. I fumbled for my phone, calling Alessio with trembling hands. Please, Alessio, please answer, I silently begged, but the line was dead—no answer, no hope.

Frantic, I was about to dial Damon when my father's large hand shot across, snatching the phone from my grasp and hurling it into the backseat like a discarded toy. I recoiled, heart hammering in my chest, as the car sped off, tires screeching on the asphalt like a predator on the hunt.

The air felt thick—heavy with the scent of impending doom, suffocating me as we barreled down the road. My breath came in ragged gasps, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The question I had been avoiding for so long bubbled to the surface—Is this it? Is this the moment he finally kills me? His anger had been festering for days, a storm cloud ready to burst. His fury over Damon's father's death had burned hot and unchecked, his mind consumed by the knowledge that Damon had fired him from his position in the mafia. Damon's plans to rewrite the rules had set him off like a fuse, and I was the inevitable explosion.

"Dad, please," I sobbed, my voice breaking like fragile glass. "What are you doing?" The words were a whisper against the violent hum of the engine, but they were all I had left to offer.

His eyes were dark—cold—when he spoke, the words rasping from his throat like a low growl. "Doing what I should've done a while ago." The car jerked sharply, turning into a driveway I knew too well. The familiar house loomed ahead, a place that once held warmth and love. But now, it felt like a trap. Stella's home. The walls that had once offered sanctuary were now as threatening as prison bars.

He didn't give me a chance to understand, let alone escape. The door flew open with a violent slam, and before I could react, he was dragging me from the car, his fingers weaving into my hair like a cruel leash. I stumbled behind him, the ground shifting beneath my feet as panic gripped me, but then I saw him. Mr. Russel—standing there like a predator in a meat suit, his grin wide and cold, leading us into the house.

The cold chill of realization washed over me, numbing my body even as my mind screamed for clarity. This was it. This was the end.

I gathered every ounce of strength I had left, lifting my head and screaming Stella's name. "Stella!" I cried, my voice raw, desperate. She had to help me. She was the only one who could.

But the words barely left my lips before the door to the house opened, and Mr. Russel handed a leather briefcase to my father. The sound of it hitting his palm was like a death knell. "How much is in there?" my father growled, his voice barely contained, full of greed and malice.

Mr. Russel rolled his eyes, as if it were nothing more than a mundane transaction. "Like we agreed on. She's not worth much anyway." His words cut through the air like a jagged blade, making my stomach turn.

And then, like a nightmare unfolding before my eyes, Stella appeared. She stood there, her messy hair and pajamas disheveled, panic flashing in her eyes as she tried to make sense of the scene. "Avery? What's going on?" she asked, her voice trembling as she rushed toward me, her hands reaching out, wanting to pull me from this nightmare.