Beneath The Surface

Chapter 53: Reclaiming Control

--- Raven's POV ---

I stepped out of the warehouse, the cold night air hitting my face like a slap, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging inside me. My hands were steady as I opened the door of the car I had chosen back at home, an Aston Martin DB11, sleek, fast, powerful. It was the perfect choice for what I needed right now.


I didn’t wait for Marco and Ace. I couldn’t. I needed to be alone, to breathe, to process everything that had just happened. As I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against my skin, my mind drifted back to earlier that evening, to the conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear.

I was sat on the sofa, pretending to be engrossed in a book, I heard their voices drifting from the hallway. Low, urgent, almost like a whisper carried on a breeze, but every word reached my ears with startling clarity. James had called, Ace said. They had my father. The man who had torn my life apart, was being held in a warehouse just outside of town. Marco and Ace were going to deal with him tonight.


They didn’t know I was listening. They didn’t know that every word was like a match to dry kindling, igniting something deep within me. I couldn’t just sit there and let them do this without me. This wasn’t just their fight, it was mine. It had always been mine.


I waited, forcing myself to remain still, to act like nothing was wrong when they came back to the living room. They thought I hadn’t heard a thing, that I was still oblivious, still safe. They waited until later that night, thinking I was asleep, before they slipped out of the house. But I was far from asleep. I was wide awake, my mind racing, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear, anger, and something I hadn’t felt in a long time, resolve.


The moment they left, I followed. I kept my distance, my headlights dimmed as I tailed them through the city and out into the more desolate outskirts. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, memories, and emotions as I drove. The years of abuse, the constant fear, all of it was his fault. My father had orchestrated every moment of pain I had endured.


As I trailed Marco and Ace, a part of me wondered if I could really go through with it. Could I face him? Could I pull the trigger? But another part of me, the part that had survived years of torment, knew that I had to. This was my chance to take back everything he had stolen from me, to end the nightmare once and for all.


Finally, when we arrived at the warehouse. I parked a safe distance away, my hands trembling as I cut the engine. I waited, watching as they entered the building. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come.

I waited in the shadows, listening as Marco and Ace confronted him. Their voices were hard, filled with anger, and I could tell they wanted to make him suffer. But then, as he began to speak, the old wounds opened again, bleeding fresh pain.


He was cocky. He talked about what he had done to me, the scars he had left on my back, the way he had whipped me with chains until I could barely stand. He spoke of it all like it was a game, like my suffering was something he took pride in. He even mentioned how those scars were his way of branding me, of making sure I never forgot who I belonged to.


The rage that filled me was like nothing I had ever felt before. My vision blurred, my hands clenched into fists as I fought to control the urge to storm in there and finish it. But I held back, waiting for the right moment.


When I finally stepped out of the shadows, gun in hand, the look on their faces was worth it. Marco and Ace were shocked, their eyes wide with surprise and something else, fear. They didn’t want this for me. They didn’t want me to carry the burden of my father’s blood on my hands. I knew that. But this wasn’t about them. This was about me.


I aimed the gun at my father, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there. He tried to taunt me, to break me down with his words, but I was beyond that now. His control over me was gone.


Before anyone could stop me, I pulled the trigger, the sound echoing through the warehouse as the bullet tore through his leg. He screamed, and it was like music to my ears. Marco and Ace moved toward me, their hands outstretched, trying to talk me down, but I didn’t lower the gun. I couldn’t. I had to finish this.

I then aimed the gun at his chest, watching as his defiance melted away, replaced by something close to fear. But I didn’t care. He had taken everything from me. And now, I was taking it back.


I pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, and the light in his eyes faded as the bullet tore through his heart. For a moment, the world went silent, the only sound the ringing in my ears. Then, slowly, I lowered the gun and turned away.


“We’re done here,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. I walked past Marco and Ace, not even glancing at them. I didn’t need to see their faces to know what they were feeling. Shock, disbelief, maybe even admiration. But all I felt was a cold, numb sense of finality.


As I stepped outside, the night air hit me again, but this time it felt different. Lighter, somehow. The weight I had carried for so long was gone, lifted by the act of pulling that trigger.


I had faced my demons. I had ended my nightmare. And now, I was free.


And now, as I sat in the car, the weight of what I had just done settled over me like a heavy blanket. I had killed him. My own father. The man who had haunted my nightmares for so many years. The man who had forced me to live a life under another identity, who had orchestrated the horrors I endured in Moscow.


He was dead. By my hand.


I started the engine, the roar of the V12 echoing in the night. The power of the car thrummed through me, matching the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white, and pulled out of the warehouse lot.


I didn’t head home. I couldn’t. Not yet. I needed time. Space. I needed to drive, to feel the wind rush past me, to clear my head.


The headlights cut through the darkness as I drove off in the opposite direction of home. The city lights faded behind me as I pushed the car faster, the needle on the speedometer climbing higher. The world outside blurred, but my mind was crystal clear.


This was the moment I had been waiting for my entire life. The moment I took back control. No one would ever control me again, not like my father did. Not like he had tried to. From now on, I will be in charge of my own destiny.


And I would make sure no one ever took that away from me again.