RAVEN

"Have a good night, Leah," I smile at the last dancer as she slings the strap of her purse over her shoulder, waving me goodbye. She returns my sentiment, and then heads out the front door.

I finish tidying up the few things out of place behind the bar. When I glance at the clock, I realize that I only have a few minutes before Luca will be here to pick me up for dinner.

It's date night again and I still have to change for the occasion.

That being said, I scurry back to my office, fixing a chair as I do so. Once I'm in the room, I unlock the cabinet and grab my dress where it's hanging. I tear the thin plastic that encases it, removing the deep purple-coloured fabric.

I remove my business appropriate outfit—a shirt, blazer, and the blouse underneath—and slip into the dress. Once I have it pulled high enough, I quickly shimmy out of my bra, adjusting the straps on my shoulders.

I reach for the strings used to tie up the open back, but I immediately feel stupid. I can't tie these on my own. I jam my belongings into the bag I brought with me, stuffing it back into the cabinet. I fix my hair, pulling it out of the ponytail, step back into my heels, and then switch out my earrings for some hoops.

I'm just about to attempt to do up the back myself again when the door to my office suddenly opens. Out of instinct, I twist, clutching the dress to my chest as I open my mouth to scold whoever it is.

However, my eyes find Luca—in his expensive black dress shirt, tucked into his matching slacks—and I breathe a sigh of relief.

My heart flutters in my chest at the sight of him. He's dressed in his typical clothing, but he looks so fucking fine. There's something about Luca Moreno dressed in all black that sends my hormones into overdrive.

"Hi," I squeak out, loosening my grip on my dress so it falls slack.

"Moonlight—"

He's paused on his entry into my office. His hand remains on the handle, the door halfway open. His sight rakes from my eyes, down to my heels, and back up again. He inspects every inch of me like he's devoting it to memory, like he can't find the words to express how much he appreciates every bit of me.

"Perfect timing," I tell him, spinning to show him the back of my dress. "I need your help tying this thing up."

I listen as he steps inside, carefully closing the door behind him. I feel him approach my back, sense his presence, smell his intoxicating cologne as he nears.

He gathers my hair in his hand, placing it over one shoulder to give him easier access. He delicately takes the strings and I can feel as he pulls and positions them, working his way up. The further he ascends, the more I get turned on.

When he gets to the very top, he secures his hold—one strap in each hand—and uses the hold to tug me to his chest. I gasp, my shoulders hitting his pecs and his tattooed hands finding my waist. He bends slightly, hovering over my exposed neck as he presses his mouth to the skin there.

"You look fucking ravishing," his voice is a low growl in my ear.

I push my ass into him, pressing one hand over his while the other reaches up to run over the stubble on his jawline.

He grips my jaw, gently using the hold to twist my head until he's able to descend his mouth upon mine.

When he pulls away, I'm breathless, but I manage to warn him, "We should get to dinner."

He gives me this look. One that I've seen so many times that I can decipher it without him needing to say a word—I'd rather eat you.

But that can wait.

He smirks, going back to tying the back of my dress until it's secured. Once he's done, I double check my appearance in the mirror, grab my clutch and lead him out of my office.

"Raven, baby," he calls out for me once we're in the main space of the club, grabbing my wrist and using the hold to tug me to him.

I hum in the form of a question, leaning into him.

"I'll just hit the washroom and then we'll go," he informs me, his hand lingering on the swell of my ass.

"Don't take too long," I plead, leaning up to give him a kiss.

"I'll be right back, Angel."

I watch him walk off towards the bathroom before turning towards the bar again. That's when it occurs to me that I haven't gone through the mail today, so I head in that direction to find the cabinet it's kept in.

I pull the small container out, spreading the contents of it across the bar top. Bills, bills, and more bills. Electricity company, alcohol delivery, insurance—it's all rather menial.

But then my eyes catch sight of a brown manila envelope. I glance at the front first, but there's no sender address. In fact, the club's address isn't even written on it. The only thing adorned on the front is my full name, written in thick, black Sharpie.

My warning buzzers go off immediately.

Carefully, I cradle the package in my hands. For anyone else to receive something like this, it wouldn't seem awfully suspicious. However, for the girlfriend of a mafia don to get a vague and mysterious hand-delivered piece of mail? It's a veiled threat.

This could contain anything—a letter, incriminating evidence, medical records, a bomb that will detonate once I open it, or even a murder weapon that once I naively place my fingerprints on, can be used against me.

I'm delicate with it, weighing it. There isn't much heft to it, so it's unlikely it's the latter two, although that isn't an absolute guarantee.

Before I can ponder the decision further, my fingers are tearing open the sealed end. I angle it once it's open, allowing several pages of paper to slide out of it.

I lift the top page in a hurry when I see Adiv's face displayed on it. He's pictured in a small photo in the top left of the page wearing a police officer's uniform, of all things.

What the fuck?

Was Adiv a cop?

I glance over the details on the sheet—his full name, date of birth, and some sort of identification number that is associated with his badge. Was Adiv really a cop?

The thing is, Adiv was one of the purest humans I've ever known. It's why him and Dove always made so much sense. I'm not entirely horrified about him being a cop, but it gives me mixed feelings.

I've always detested cops. I grew up with the mindset that they're all pieces of shit. The corruption is disgusting, but who am I to throw stones? I'm literally the daughter of a don. He paid off countless cops in his lifetime. Which, to me, means they aren't much different from Cain. The main difference is that they're able to hide behind the badge and the law as if it means anything.

However, I can't help but wonder if he kept this from Dove, what exactly does that mean? I can assume he came to our syndicate with the idea of infiltrating it, but does that mean that everything he ever did was fake? Were his feelings for Dove a cover? Something to give him some sense of immunity from Cain? Is it possible he only hooked up with Dove to try and gain insight into what Cain was up to? Meanwhile, leaking information back to his superiors?

As I think about it, my peripheral catches view of the second sheet in the stack that was delivered to me.

My heartbeat hammers in my ears, as I drop the paper in my hands and move to pick up the one I'm unable to tear my eyes from.

Because it's the exact same paperwork as Adiv's, only this one has Luca's information on it. Luca, as a cop. Him, wearing a dark blue uniform with a badge on his chest that has Moreno printed on it in capitalized font.

Luca's a fucking cop.

I read through the pages that came with it. Read about him receiving an award or decoration for showing immense compassion and having gone above and beyond the call of duty. About him passing various certifications while training—firearm use, licensing exam, and others. And finally, my eyes scan over his psychological evaluation.

His psych exam has a few important points. His integrity is highlighted—it states that he has a high sense of integrity. His moral judgment and honestly are also marked at a high scale. His intelligence is rated as an extreme asset.

The one that stands out most to me is his resilience. There's a note about his family facing adversity. About them being carjacked and robbed within three years and how intensely it motivates him to fight back against evil.

I'm reading and reading, not entirely sure that I'm even processing the words on the papers. Luca's a cop. He kept this from me. Kept how he came into my life on false pretenses.

Dread washes over me, like an ocean wave forcibly carrying me under the surface of the water, holding me hostage.

I mean, I never entirely thought that he had good intentions. Anybody that has survived in this world long enough doesn't have the best of intentions. They're usually rather self-serving.

However, I saw something different in Luca the first day I saw him. He wasn't tainted—consumed entirely by greed, power, and vengeance. He had a softness to him that I'd never experienced in my life before.

He's still those things.

But this—just like it did with Adiv—makes me question whether anything he's ever said to me, whether anything we've experienced together is true. Are his feelings for me true? Or did he use me on his rise to the top in order to topple the Brooks' organization from the inside? Is he planning on ratting me out to his cop buddies for literally murdering my own father right in front of him?

Is it possible that these papers are doctored? Did someone make these with some fancy editing to create chaos? There are people in this world that are paid a pretty fucking penny to make fake documents look legit.

I'm still reading it all over, attempting to process it all, when I hear a noise. I'm not even sure what it is because I'm so focused, but when I lift my head, I see Luca approaching as he fixes the sleeves of his dress shirt. He's smiling, so I can only assume he's said something that amuses him—likely something about sex—but once he recognizes my expression, his lowers.

"What's wrong?" He rushes to me, his concern overwhelming. Literally rushes to me once he senses something wrong and it causes a confusing flurry of emotions to wash over me.

Is that reaction legitimate? Or is it another part of a ploy to get whatever it is he needs for the cops? For his co-workers?

I don't know what to say. There are so many conflicting feelings and thoughts going on that I'm unsure if I can articulate it properly.

I don't even feel overwhelmingly angry. Perhaps I should, but I don't.

I'm not pissed off about him being a cop. Sure, it's shady as fuck, but from a completely objective standpoint, it's understandable why he wouldn't tell me.

Also, I happen to believe cops are all fucking biased and immoral anyways. So that isn't necessarily the part that bothers me.

I'm more confused than anything, but also, I'm hurt. I feel like there are parts of us that could be a lie and that's fucking devastating. It's breaking my heart to think that there's the possibility that each time he told me he loved me was a lie.

With that being said, that's the first thing out of my mouth, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't lie to me this entire fuckin' time. Tell me that we aren't a lie." The second the words are spoken aloud, the static in the air changes.

He raises his hands up in defense, "I can explain, Raven. But the most important thing right now is that nothing about us has been a lie. In fact, I almost gave up on everything in this world—you're the thing that kept me here. My love for you kept me here."

"So it's true then? You're a cop?"

"Was," he corrects. "Adiv and I were cops. Not anymore. Not since I realized how the corruption is to the same level as it is in this world. Not since before Adiv's death."

"Wh—" my voice cracks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I should have. A long fuckin' time ago. From the day we first met—from the day we made eye contact across that foyer—I knew I'd hurt you eventually and I didn't want to."

Something about what he's said triggers a memory in me—of the times when he warned me away from him. He tried to tell me to avoid him, to not get involved, but it made me push harder to get to know him. It's the classic tale of I wanted what was being forbidden to me.

Was that his way of maintaining distance between us because of the things he was keeping secret?

"Raven, I lied and didn't tell you about being a cop because I had to, not 'cause I ever wanted to. I had no other choice."

"There's always a choice, Luca."

He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs, "You're right. I could've told you. You proved to me many, many months ago that I can trust you."

He pauses, thinking things over. I imagine there are a million thoughts running through his head, just as there are in mine.

"When I started all this—when I found my way in Cain's mansion—I had full intentions of tearing his organization down. But I'm not that person anymore."

He's right, he really isn't.

"The months went on and the more darkness I saw, the more I realized that it's impossible to touch the darkness without it touching me back. How could I ever destroy a monster like Cain without becoming one myself?"

He swallows thickly, pausing as if the words are hard to get out.

"I convinced myself long ago that the darkness I now hold is necessary. That the killing, the drugs, the money—all of it—is pivotal to survival. Somewhere along the way, I've allowed the power to spiderweb its way throughout my body until my blood ran black. Ever since the bloodied crown was placed atop my head, I told myself that it's all been necessary." He halts speaking for a moment, his eyes flickering up to mine. "None of this is. None of it's fuckin' necessary. The only thing I give a fuck about anymore is you."

I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it.

"The truth is, I've been petrified of you learning the truth. I was terrified that if you knew what I once stood for—the man of good and kindness and morality—that you'd come to see me the very way I see myself."

Why does he always say things like that?

"How do you see yourself?"

"Every time I touch your skin, I expect to see the darkness—the evil—leaching from me. Like blood diffusing in water, I expect it to just—" he's not looking at me anymore. He's staring off into space as he lowly speaks the final word, "—spread."

Does he seriously see himself that way? Does he honestly believe the things he's done are so irredeemable that no good remains within him? Does he not see the things he did to help Dove and AJ? Or how about me? What about the countless amount of things he's done to keep me safe?

Has he done some things that could be considered bad? Of course, but I literally wrapped my father's belt around his neck and suffocated him to death. How does he see me if I'm doing the same things as he is? If I'm enabling his behaviours?

I've told him more than once that he isn't as evil as he seems to believe. It's been a common theme between us with our conversations. He doesn't seem to think I'm telling him the truth.

"Luca, you know this. I've said it to you more than once. You aren't evil. I fuckin' grew up with evil. I'm blood related to evil. You're nothing like Cain."

"Did you read what is surely on those papers? I was being praised for my compassion for others, my morals, my integrity—I'm not sure I have any of those qualities anymore. I mean, for fuck's sake, I stood by as Cain sliced Adiv's throat. I did nothing, Raven. Didn't do a damn thing. Christ, he's still buried in the fuckin' garden."

"You avenged his death," I remind him. "You ensured Dove and AJ got out safely. You ensure that every single day they're safe and accounted for."

He doesn't speak. I'm not sure if the words mean anything to him or if he sincerely hates himself so intimately and intensely that nothing I say can ever convince him otherwise.

"I understand why you had to keep it from me, I do. I don't understand why it was kept from me for so long, but I understand that it would put both of us in danger. The part that I struggle with is trust. I grew up believing someone else was my father. I was raised in an environment where trust is few and far between—that it's something earned over a lifetime and destroyed in a blink of an eye."

"You are the first man to come into my life that I've ever trusted. You're the first person who's ever told me the truth. Ignoring this—" I tap the papers, "—you've never hidden the truth from me. You've never treated me as though I'm glass."

The look on his face is heart shattering. I have every right to be mad at him, I know that, but I haven't been mad about any of it. I wanted clarity and it's nice to receive some of it. Even though I have a million and one questions.

I think he's telling me the truth. I don't know how I know that, but something about what's been written in these pages has me believing that despite everything he's been through with me these long months, he's still him.

The violence, the evil, the corruption—it hasn't completely eroded him.

I see the softness in him. The way he touches me, speaks to me, raises me up to be more than just a trophy (which is the not norm in our world).

I do see the ways he keeps me informed on the goings on. I can see that he trusts me with the responsibility he gives me and the information he shares.

He treats me better than any other woman in our world that I've ever met.

And deep down, I think he was trying to push me away at the beginning because he was terrified of falling in love with me. He was scared of the repercussions. Maybe he was even scared of feeling attached to me because it would create some connection to this world when he was so unsure about it.

When he speaks, his voice is soft, "I can't tell you how many times I've reminded myself about how much I haven't deserved your trust so I understand why you'd feel that way. It's completely valid you'd feel like that. I don't blame you. I'd feel the same."

"Shortly after we first met, I tried leaving. I tried to get switched to another assignment. My superior refused to listen. And then I fell in love with you and there was no question about leaving. I was staying—to protect you from Cain and Marco and Kash . . . from everyone."

He lifts his head, meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm not gonna' make up excuses or try to invalidate what you're feeling. So, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept it from you. I should've told you. I apologize for not trusting you with that information."

He's right when he says he's not that person anymore, but that isn't a bad thing. He's remained the soft, vulnerable man that I've grown to love. Despite all the darkness that surrounds him at every moment, he still maintains that goodness that drew me to him.

I understand why he did what he did. I also understand that if he told me the truth, it wouldn't have only affected him. If he'd admitted to me that he was a cop, it likely would've put Adiv in danger, which would've put Dove in danger too. It would've been a chain reaction. I'm positive he never would've said anything to me before speaking with Adiv, considering it would've affected the both of them.

I get it. All of it. I can pull myself out of the situation and see where it was all coming from. It still stings, of course, but it doesn't change my feelings for him. I still love Luca Moreno more than I've loved anyone. More than I ever will love anyone else.

It simply breaks my heart that he can't seem to find the good in himself. He's resigned to believing he's destined for hell, when all I see in him are the positive virtues that others wished they possessed. That I wish I possessed.

If anything, there are aspects of me that make me question how I've affected him. How I've tainted him. In his devotion to me, he's done shit that he can never take back. That he can never forget. That haunt him in the shadows of night.

That thought doesn't sit well with me.

I'm about to say something else—something about forgiving him and wanting to know everything—but Nero comes into the club, signaling that something's wrong. He never comes inside unless something's up. He's under strict instruction to allow Luca and I privacy and to only come in when called.

Luca immediately stands to attention and snaps at him, "What is it, Nero?"

Luca goes from vulnerable with me to Don-mode in an instant.

There's a flicker of intimidation on Nero's face, but he hides it quickly. "I apologize for the intrusion, Don Moreno. There's a fight occurring out front on the street. It's being handled, but it's important you know about it."

Luca's eyes flutter back to mine. We're definitely not done with this conversation, but I get that he has to deal with this. I give him a nod, inaudibly telling him that it's okay.

He steps to me, leaning in with a hand on my waist. He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, whispering, "We can talk later. I promise you can ask me anything and I'll answer it truthfully, my love."

"Okay," I whisper, leaning into his warmth.

With that, he turns, retracting the pistol he keeps tucked in the back of his dress slacks. He checks that it's loaded and then puts it back where it was, before he glances at Nero. "I'm coming. I'll deal with it."

Nero nods, turning to leave back out the front of the building. Luca follows and—at the last moment before exiting—says to me, "Stay here, Angel. I'll be right back."

When I'm left alone, I gather all the pieces of paper from inside the envelope, lining them up. I peek at them once more, thinking about the things I'd like to ask Luca. Like when was the moment when he stopped being a cop? Are the cops now after us harder than before just because he crossed them? Does he know of anyone else who's a cop? At what moment did he fall in love with me and decide to stay?

I place them back in the envelope so I can take them with us. The last thing I'd want to do is leave them here for other wandering eyes. I put them beside my purse, taking the rest of the mail back to my office.

I organize the bills in my files and then toss their envelopes into the trash. That's when I notice that the garbage in my office was missed by the cleaning staff. I remove the bag, tie it up and go to take it to our large bins out back.

The moment I head out the back door, I'm momentarily shocked at how bright the moon is. It's full, blindingly light and beautiful high up in the sky.

I lift the large lid and toss the black bag inside. It isn't until I release the lid and it crashes down against the bin that I realize I probably shouldn't have come out here. Especially not when Luca asked me to stay inside.

It's fine, though. It's just a quick dart out and back inside.

However, I can't help but feel like I'm not alone. There's this awareness that washes over me that something isn't right.

Quickly, I run the short distance of a few steps to our back door.

The second my fingers wrap around the handle, there's a loud whoosh, followed by a sharp pain at the back of my head.

And then the world goes black.