Chapter 25
Raven
I watched the McLaren disappear over the edge, the sound of tearing metal and shattering glass fading into the night. For one suspended moment, I felt nothing—no triumph, no guilt, just the cold calculation of a job efficiently executed.
Then I corrected the Nissan's trajectory and accelerated toward the finish line.
The blind spot in the monitoring system had worked perfectly. No cameras had captured what really happened in that final curve. Just as I'd counted on.
As I rounded the final bend toward the finish line, the announcer's voice blared through the speakers, his tone dripping with condescension.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I think we can all agree this race is OVER! Our champion Jax Crowe has completely disappeared into the lead after that blind spot section. Not surprising, considering the difference in vehicles! That poor little girl in the Nissan is probably still figuring out which pedal does what!"
The crowd had thinned considerably. People streamed toward the parking lot, not even bothering to wait for the finish. Near the VIP section, I spotted Tyler and Maddie packing up their things, exchanging smug smiles as they prepared to leave.
"And for those of you patient enough to stick around," the announcer continued, "we'll see Jax cross the finish line any moment now. Though honestly, folks, you could probably grab coffee and still make it back before that purple-haired rookie shows up!"
Artificial laughter rippled through the sound system. I smirked, pushing the Nissan harder.
"Oh wait! I see headlights in the distance, folks! Here comes our champion now!" The announcer's voice rose with excitement. "The McLaren has—"
He paused abruptly. His voice changed, uncertainty creeping in.
"That... that can't be right."
The confusion in his tone was palpable as I closed in on the finish line, the Nissan's engine howling.
"Impossible! That's... that's not the McLaren! It's... it's the NISSAN?!" The announcer's voice cracked with disbelief. "WHERE'S JAX? WHAT HAPPENED TO—LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE NISSAN IS CROSSING THE FINISH LINE!"
The collective shock hit like a physical wave. The remaining spectators froze in place. Drinks stopped halfway to mouths. Conversations died mid-sentence. The silence was absolute.
"HOLY SHIT!" Leo's voice shattered the silence as he rushed toward my car. "SHE WON! RAVEN ACTUALLY WON!"
I parked Cole's car with mechanical precision and stepped out, removing my helmet with deliberate slowness. Maya pushed through the small crowd, her face a mixture of relief and amazement.
"Are you okay?" she whispered, eyes scanning me for injuries. "When you disappeared from the monitors, I thought..."
"I'm fine," I replied, my voice flat. My eyes drifted to the announcer's booth, where the man was frantically speaking into his headset, likely trying to contact race officials about Jax's whereabouts.
"Where's Jax?" someone finally asked aloud, voicing the question on everyone's mind.
I shrugged, my face a perfect mask of innocence. "Last I saw, he was taking a shortcut."
The chaos that followed was predictable. Race officials scrambling to check the monitoring equipment. Spectators buzzing with theories. I noticed several phones being pulled out, no doubt calling local news outlets.
"We need to go," I told Leo and Maya. "Now."
"Go?" Leo looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "Are you kidding? This is your moment! You just crushed the undefeated state champion! They're about to announce the winner!"
Maya nodded eagerly. "Everyone's going to want to talk to you. This is huge, Raven."
I let out a short laugh, my eyes gleaming with amusement. "What, you want me to stand there while they hand me a trophy for doing what I'm supposed to do? Win?" I nodded toward the officials scrambling to organize the ceremony. "The money transfers either way. Cole gets what he needs, and I'd rather skip the fake smiles and awkward photos."
They stared at me, clearly struggling to process my reaction. Most people would be ecstatic, soaking in the glory of such a victory. But I wasn't most people.
"But—" Leo started.
"We're leaving," I repeated, my tone brooking no argument. I turned and walked toward the car, not checking if they followed. They did, of course.
Twenty minutes later, we were descending Mulholland Drive, with Leo finally breaking the stunned silence from the passenger seat.
"That was INCREDIBLE! How did you—I mean, no one has EVER beaten Jax on Mulholland! You're going to be a legend! Wait till Cole hears about this! His little sister just—"
"Leo," I cut him off, my voice flat. "Shut up."
He blinked, then grinned even wider. "Right, right. I should be recording this for posterity!" He fumbled for his phone.
Maya watched me from the back seat, her expression thoughtful. "Raven... what happened in that blind spot?" she asked quietly.
I felt a strange impulse to tell her the truth—that I had calculated the exact angle and force needed to send Jax's car over the edge without damaging mine. That I had executed the maneuver with the same cold precision I'd once used to eliminate high-profile targets.
Instead, I pulled over to the side of the road.
"I need to get out here," I said suddenly.
"What? Why?" Leo frowned.
"Just something I need to check. Take the car back to the impound lot. I'll meet you there."
"But—" Maya started.
"It won't take long," I assured her, already opening the door. "I'll catch up."
Without waiting for their response, I slipped into the treeline, instantly reclaiming the silent movement that had once earned me the codename "Phantom." My feet made no sound on the forest floor as I navigated by instinct, following the trajectory of Jax's fall.
It wasn't just curiosity driving me. It was something more fundamental—a hardwired protocol from my previous life. Rule number one in the Bloodline training manual: Always confirm your kill. Never assume. Verify.
The ravine wasn't hard to find. From a rocky outcrop, I gazed down at what remained of the McLaren—a twisted metal coffin at the bottom of a steep drop. Even in the darkness, I could see the darkening pool spreading from the driver's side door.
Blood has a distinctive gleam, even in moonlight.
I watched, my breathing slow and measured, my mind clinically assessing the scene. The angle of impact. The compression of the driver's compartment. The volume of blood. No one could have survived that. Target eliminated.
I felt no remorse, no guilt, not even satisfaction. Just the clean completion of a task. The same feeling I'd had after countless operations in my previous life.
Only when I was absolutely certain did I turn to leave. But as I made my way back through the forest, a prickle of unease crawled up my spine—that familiar warning system that had saved my life countless times.
I wasn't alone.
In one fluid motion, I pressed myself against a tree trunk, becoming one with the shadows. My hand moved instinctively to my thigh, searching for a knife that wasn't there. I cursed silently at the limitations of this new body.
Footsteps approached—two sets, heavy and purposeful. Not hikers or lost tourists. These were trained steps, methodical and aware. I narrowed my eyes, catching glimpses of dark silhouettes moving through the trees.
Men in tactical gear, moving with military precision.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. They weren't local police or race officials. They moved like professionals—like hunters.
Like me.