Chapter 14
Raven
Sunlight filtered through the faded curtains as I opened my eyes, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. This wasn't my penthouse in Prague, not my safe house in Paris, not even my hideout in Bucharest. This was my "home"—a word that still felt foreign on my lips.
I sat up, my fingers automatically reaching beneath my pillow—no gun. Of course not. I was Raven Martinez now, ordinary high school student, not Phantom who could kill a man with dental floss in seven seconds flat.
I dressed in the outfit I'd prepared: a soft pink leather jacket over a black shirt, paired with fitted jeans and Chelsea boots. I hung Satan's Heart around my neck, the pendant nestled against my collarbone, and topped everything with a black beret that perfectly accentuated my deep purple hair.
The mirror reflected someone far from Phantom, yet still radiating dangerous allure. Raven's body was smaller than what I was used to, but after these few days of training, I had it responding like an extension of my will.
When I descended the stairs, Sarah's eyes nearly popped out of her head, the coffee mug suspended halfway to her lips.
"Good morning, Mom," I said, my tone cheerier than even I was used to.
"Raven, you're... this is..." she stammered, clearly struggling for words.
Cole was already at the table, mouth stuffed with toast. He looked up, merely shrugging at his mother's reaction.
"Mom, stop staring," he said casually. "You have to get used to Raven's transformation. It's like..." he swallowed, searching for the right metaphor, "like someone suddenly maxed out their potential! Intelligence, beauty, social skills, articulation... everything leveled up at once!"
Sarah shook her head, placing her coffee mug on the counter. "I used to only worry about you racing every day, Cole. Now..." she sighed, " Now I'm worried about the hearts Raven is going to break. She has that look in her eye... God help me, it's the same one I had at her age."
I couldn't help but laugh. Sarah, you're becoming a braggart too? But seeing her joke around showed her mood had improved. This small domestic warmth stirred something in me—a sensation Phantom had never experienced.
"I'll head to school after breakfast," I said, spearing several bacon strips onto my plate.
"I can drive you," Sarah offered, but I shook my head.
I turned to Cole, "Are you using your motorcycle today?"
Cole froze mid-bite, "No, I'm heading to Mulholland for an underground race—the Midnight Run. Prize money's a hundred grand! I'll be gone for a few days!"
I nodded, my mind automatically calculating the track layout and optimal racing lines. If I were competing, my probability of winning would be approximately 87.3%. But I only smiled and said, "Good. I'll borrow it then."
I stood up and walked to the entryway, plucking the motorcycle keys from the hook by the door. Cole hurried after me, watching slack-jawed as I swung my leg confidently over his beloved black Kawasaki.
"Raven, since when do you know how to ride a motorcycle?" he asked, then shook his head, "Never mind, nothing you do surprises me anymore. Just be careful! That bike has serious power!"
I started the engine, feeling the familiar vibration travel through the frame into my body. Compared to the custom Ducati I'd raced through Alpine passes, this motorcycle was practically a children's toy.
"You be careful too," I called over the engine's rumble. "I've heard Midnight Run attracts serious talent. Don't push too hard if you're outmatched!"
Cole nodded and waved. I released the clutch, and the motorcycle roared away, leaving my new family staring in disbelief.
---
When I pulled into Westside Prep Academy's parking lot, I could feel all eyes turning toward me. The engine's growl echoed across campus before I cut the ignition, ensuring everyone noticed my arrival.
I removed my helmet, purple hair gleaming in the morning light, and the whispering began like a rising tide.
"Is that Raven Martinez?"
"God, she's like a completely different person!"
"Check out that bike. When did she get so cool?"
"She's the talk of the school now. Heard she even took down Tyler..."
I pocketed the keys and strode toward the main building, but didn't head directly to class. Instead, I began a deliberate circuit of the campus, my eyes constantly scanning my surroundings. Professional habit—I always reconnoitered any location where I might spend extended time.
Building A to Building B: standard walking distance 327 meters, running time 47 seconds. But if one exited through the second-floor window and crossed the east lawn, only 83 meters—19 seconds. Perfect opportunity for establishing an alibi. From cafeteria to gymnasium: two possible routes, one open but under surveillance, one concealed but requiring detour.
I noted the western perimeter wall's security camera had approximately an 8-second blind spot. Sufficient time for a trained operative to slip in or out...
I shook my head, interrupting my analysis. This was entirely unnecessary. My enemies were now just stupid high schoolers, not international assassin organizations. I wouldn't need to kill anyone or establish alibis.
Just as I was about to head to class, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out to see a new text message from someone named Nancy.
[Idiot! You better lend me money quick! You weren't here yesterday! I couldn't even eat lunch! All your fault! Stupid bitch! Are you here today? Got my money ready? My fifty bucks!!!]
My eyes narrowed, a cold fury rising in my gut. Fuck? I just said my enemies were few... but from this person's tone, she clearly was another one who bullied the original Raven.
I quickly checked the message history with this Nancy and discovered something even more shocking. In the past 46 days, the original Raven had "loaned" nearly $4,000. To me, this amount was negligible, but for a nearly bankrupt family like the Martinezes, it was enormous.
And every message carried clear threats and contempt.
"If you don't lend me money, I'll tell everyone you spy on people in the bathroom..."
"If you don't pay up tomorrow, those diaries you hide are going public..."
"Remember, bring the money tomorrow, or you know what happens..."
I felt a familiar chill crawl up my spine—not fear, but the calm that settled over me before a kill. In my past life, I'd executed many people—human trafficking kingpins, warlords who slaughtered innocents, ruthless business tycoons. But petty creatures like this, parasites who derived pleasure from tormenting the weak, always triggered my deepest disgust.
I closed my phone, drawing a deep breath, feeling Satan's Heart warm slightly against my chest.
"Fuck!" I whispered. "I will not allow any form of bullying to happen to “me” again."