Chapter 73
Raven
The door slammed so hard behind Mrs. Campbell that the champagne flutes rattled. For several seconds, the room remained in stunned silence, as if everyone was processing what they'd just witnessed. Then, like a dam breaking, excited chatter erupted.
"Holy shit, Raven!" A girl whose name I couldn't remember leaned toward me. "How did you know she was sleeping with someone from the Education Department?"
I took another languid sip of my champagne. "Lucky guess."
"Lucky guess, my ass," another classmate chimed in. "She absolutely had an affair with Superintendent Hayes. My mom works in administration and said Campbell got pregnant but had to 'take care of it.' The whole thing was hushed up."
Maya's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously?"
"Oh yeah," the girl continued, emboldened by the audience. "She's slept her way to every promotion. That Assistant Director position? Hayes recommended her personally, right after his wife found those texts."
I smiled slightly, letting the gossip swirl around me. Character assassination was an art form—one I'd perfected in my previous life to destabilize political targets. Sometimes all it took was one precise accusation to unleash an avalanche.
"You guys," someone announced, checking their phone, "this reunion dinner is supposed to end at nine, but Jake's parents are out of town, and he's offering to host an after-party."
A chorus of excited agreement followed. Maya looked at me questioningly.
"What do you think? The night's still young," she said.
I considered it briefly. There was something oddly satisfying about this high school drama—so much simpler than the international conflicts I'd navigated before. "Why not? I could use some entertainment."
---
Jake's house was exactly what I expected—suburban luxury with just enough space for forty drunk former classmates to make regrettable decisions. Within twenty minutes, music pounded through expensive speakers, red solo cups appeared in everyone's hands, and the formal pretense of the reunion dissolved into something more honest.
I was lounging on a leather couch, nursing a vodka cranberry that Maya had pressed into my hand, when I spotted him across the room.
"Tyler's here," Maya hissed, following my gaze. "And who's that with him?"
The man beside Tyler stood out immediately—designer clothes, calculated stubble, and the kind of practiced smile that suggested he knew exactly how attractive he was. Several former classmates were already orbiting him like planets around a sun.
"Great," Maya sighed. "As if tonight hadn't been dramatic enough already."
I stretched my legs out, completely unbothered. "If Tyler's planning some pathetic revenge, he doesn't have the backbone to pull it off."
"You're not worried?"
"About what? The quarterback who cried when I bent his finger?" I scoffed. "Please."
As if on cue, Tyler and his companion made their way toward our section of the room, deliberately positioning themselves within earshot. The stranger leaned in, not even attempting to be subtle.
"So that's her?" he asked, loud enough for us to hear.
Tyler nodded. "That's Raven Martinez. I told you she's... different now. Kind of weird."
The stranger's eyes swept over me with practiced appraisal. "Hmm. There hasn't been a girl I couldn't charm yet."
I nearly choked on my drink from holding back laughter. The audacity was almost impressive.
Less than two minutes later, the stranger was standing before us, flashing what he clearly believed was an irresistible smile.
"Miles Davenport," he introduced himself, extending a manicured hand. "Tyler's friend from State. I've heard so much about you, Raven."
I stared at his hand until he awkwardly withdrew it. "All terrible things, I hope."
He laughed as if I'd said something delightful. "I like your style. Tyler mentioned you have quite the personality."
"And Tyler has all the personality of wet cardboard, so I'm not sure his assessment means much."
Miles continued undeterred. "I'm in town for a few days and thought I'd reconnect with Tyler. He's been showing me around, introducing me to the... local attractions." His eyes lingered on me in a way that made his meaning clear.
Maya, inexplicably, was staring at him with wide-eyed fascination. "I'm Maya. It's really nice to meet you."
Miles barely glanced at her. "Charmed. Listen, Raven, I have a feeling you and I would get along splendidly."
I leaned back. "Based on what? Your impeccable choice in friends?"
Instead of being deterred, Miles reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. With practiced fingers, he began shuffling them—bridge shuffles, waterfall shuffles, one-handed cuts that spoke of countless hours of practice.
"I find that cards reveal a lot about a person," he said, executing a perfect cascade that made Maya gasp. "I dabble a bit in card mechanics."
Maya was completely taken in. "A bit? That's professional-level skill!"
Miles's smile widened. "You're too kind. It's just a hobby." He finished with a flourish, fanning the cards perfectly. "What do you say, Raven? Care for a little game? If I win, all I ask is to add you on social media."
I watched his hands, noting each controlled movement, each practiced gesture. In my mind, I recalled smoky backrooms in Macau, high-stakes tables in Monte Carlo, and the countless marks I'd fleeced before eliminating them. The deck manipulation was good—for an amateur.
Something stirred in me—the predatory instinct that had been dormant for too long.
"Well," I said, straightening up with a slow smile. "I suppose I could use some amusement."
Miles's eyes gleamed with anticipated victory, completely unaware of the shark he'd just challenged to a swimming contest.
"Excellent," he said, preparing to deal. "Let's begin."