ROXANNE POV
They never saw it coming—twelve men, twelve bodies and I hadn't even laid a finger on them. The house always felt like it was holding its breath, suffocating and still, like it was waiting for something to go wrong. A car accident took my mother's life when I was twelve and in its aftermath, I ended up in the care of Garry, my stepfather. Not just any stepfather. Garry was the relentless leader of the Goons Gang. My memories of that time were fractured, like scattered puzzle pieces I couldn't quite put together. I'd survived the crash, but not unscathed. I'd woken up from a coma with no memory of the accident, or much of my childhood. Garry had filled in the gaps; telling me about a father I couldn't remember, a man who had been sentenced to life for murder. I hadn't known enough to question it and even if I had, who could I turn to? For the last five years, my life has been a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Garry flat-out refused to pay for any medical treatment or therapy that could help me recover my lost memories. He'd dismissively say, "It's better if you remember on your own," as if the fragmented pieces of my childhood and the car accident could somehow fall into place naturally. I was eighteen now, technically an adult, but that didn't mean anything in Garry's house. My days were spent cooking, cleaning and tending to the gang's wounded, thanks to the forced medical training I'd endured. Garry had once blackmailed a local surgeon into homeschooling me. When I was good enough to stitch a wound, reset a broken bone, or stop a man from bleeding out, Garry had the surgeon killed. It was another reminder that I was nothing but a tool to him—a pawn in his violent, bloody game. In the living room, I sat on the couch with my knees pulled to my chest, staring blankly at the television. The muffled sound of laughter came from the kitchen, where Garry's men—his "brothers"—were drinking and celebrating God-knows-what. Kendrick's voice was the loudest. It always was. He was Garry's right-hand man, younger than the others and just as dangerous, if not more. I'd learned to avoid Ken when I could, but sometimes, avoidance wasn't enough. He had this way of looking at me that made my skin crawl. The sound of heavy boots coming closer caught my attention. "There you are." Kendrick slurred as he appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a cocky smirk. His sandy hair fell into his face and his gray eyes sparkled with that predatory gleam I knew too well. I didn't respond, keeping my eyes fixed on the TV. "Hiding out here by yourself again?" He asked, taking a few steps toward me. "Come on, Roxie. Join the fun." "I'm fine here." I muttered, my voice low. I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, praying he'd lose interest. But Ken wasn't the type to give up easily. He loved this-loved knowing he had the power to make me uncomfortable. He sauntered closer, his grin widening. "You know Garry wouldn't like it if he knew you weren't being...social." The unspoken threat in his words sent a chill down my spine. "What do you want, Ken?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady. He chuckled, the sound low and grating. "I just wanted to gaze into those light green eyes of yours." "Is that so much to ask?" He reached out, his hand aiming for my face, but I flinched back instinctively. "Don't." I whispered, barely audible. His smirk faded, replaced by something darker. "You think you're better than us, don't you? Just because Garry needs you?" I kept my gaze on the TV, my fists clenched. Ken leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "One day, you're going to regret not being nicer to me. You'll see, my little pet." I swallowed hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. The door to the living room creaked open and Garry strode in. His sharp gaze flicked between us, the faint twitch of his mustache hinting at irritation. "Ken," Garry's voice cut through the room, laced with authority. "Did you tell her about the wedding I proposed for this weekend, now that she's finally of age?" My stomach churned. Wedding? Ken's grin widened, smug and full of malice. "Not yet. I was just breaking the news to the guys about my plans for our wedding night though." The blood drained from my face, leaving me frozen in place. Garry sighed, rubbing his temple as if Ken's excitement was more bothersome than concerning. "I've always known you were obsessed with her, Kendrick." He muttered. Ken chuckled darkly, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Seriously, a prize like her? And untouched. You only get one chance at that." His words sent a wave of revulsion through me, making me feel like a trapped animal. I snapped my head toward them, my voice trembling with anger. "I'm not marrying him!" The air in the room grew still. Both men turned to look at me, Garry's gaze sharp, while Ken's twisted into something colder. "Oh, Roxie." Ken shook his head slowly. "You've got a lot to learn. Like keeping quiet when two men are talking." He leaned back, his condescension slicing through me like a blade. Garry stepped closer, placing a heavy hand on my head as if I were a disobedient child. "You'll do as you're told, Roxanne." He said with calm finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. The fury bubbling inside me threatened to spill over, but I bit my tongue. This wasn't the moment to fight. After a silent minute, Garry turned away. "Joey's in the dining area." He commanded coldly. "Patch him up." Grateful for the escape, I rose from the couch without a word and hurried to the dining room. Joey sat slumped in a chair, pressing a bloodied towel to his side. "Got into a little scuffle." He muttered, his voice strained. I grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet, focusing on the task at hand. My hands moved with precision, cleaning the wound and stitching him up like I'd done countless times before. Joey shifted slightly, his jacket falling open to reveal a glint of silver tucked into the waistband of his pants-a razor blade, small but sharp. I kept my expression neutral, masking the quick flash of realization. As I reached for the gauze on the table, I made my move. With practiced ease, I slipped the razor from his waistband and tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans. Joey, too preoccupied with the pain, didn't notice. I tied off the final stitch and straightened. "You're good to go." I said briskly. Joey grunted in acknowledgment, standing with a wince before shuffling off. I exhaled quietly, my fingers brushing against the razor in my pocket. It wasn't much, but it was enough. After cleaning up in the kitchen, I started dinner. Cooking was routine by now, something I could do without much thought. I worked in silence, preparing the meal and placing the dishes on a tray instead of setting the dining table. The gang rarely ate there. Instead, I carried everything to the living room, leaving it on the coffee table like I always did. Hours later, I lingered in the hallway, peeking around the corner. As expected, they were spread out on the couches, shouting at the game on the TV. The plates of food on the coffee table were mostly empty, alongside half-drunk bottles of whiskey. I watched them laugh, oblivious to everything except the screen and their own crude jokes. It was almost too easy. But where was Kendrick? My stomach tightened as I scanned the room again. He wasn't there. I slipped back into the hallway, keeping my steps light as I hurried toward the staircase. My heart pounded with every creak of the wood beneath my feet, but the noise from the living room drowned out the sound. Upstairs, I darted into my room and shut the door quietly behind me. My stash was hidden beneath the loose floorboard under my bed—a bag of cash I'd scraped together bit by bit, skimming from Garry's stolen goods when no one was looking. I pried the floorboard up and yanked the bag out, throwing it over my shoulder. My escape was so close I could taste it. But when I turned around, Garry was standing in the doorway. My breath caught in my throat. His sharp eyes narrowed as they flicked to the bag over my shoulder. "What are you doing, Roxanne?" He asked, his voice low. I didn't answer. My mind raced, trying to find a way out, but he stepped into the room, blocking the door. "I said, what are you doing?" His voice rose as he took another step closer. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. "I'm leaving." "Leaving, really?" Garry laughed, harshly. His face twisted into a sneer. "After everything I've done for you?" "After everything I've given you?" He narrowed his brow as I met his gaze. "You're just going to run off like the ungrateful little bitch you are?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Given me?" My voice cracked as anger surged to the surface. "You've given me nothing but misery! You took my life and turned it into a prison!" "Watch your mouth, girl." His hand curled into a fist at his side. "You'd be dead if it weren't for me. You think the world out there is going to be kind to someone like you?" "Someone like me?" I shot back, reaching slowly for the razor tucked in my back pocket which I had slipped off Joey. "You mean someone you've used as a tool for your filthy crime?!" Garry stepped closer, towering over me and his hand shot out, striking me hard across the face. The slap sent me staggering back, my cheek burning, but I didn't cry. I didn't give him the satisfaction. "You're nothing without me." He hissed. "Nothing but a stupid, worthless—" A shout from downstairs cut him off. "They're dead!" Kendrick's voice echoed up the stairs, frantic and loud. "Every single one of them!" Garry froze, his head snapping toward the door, confusion flickering across his face. His brow furrowed as Kendrick's voice rang out again. "She killed them all!" His gaze whipped back to me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. That was my moment. I didn't need to hear more to know what had happened. The food they devoured so greedily had been laced with warfarin, an anticoagulant I'd discreetly taken from the gang's stash of stolen medical supplies weeks ago. They never questioned the random shipments of drugs they stole during their heists and I'd quietly pocketed what I needed. As for the drinks, a bottle of beta-blockers I'd pilfered from the first-aid kit during a gang member's emergency months back had done the job. I'd ground the pills into powder and slipped it into their whiskey. The perfect combination; one slowed their heart rates, the other thinned their blood until even the smallest internal bleed became fatal. I lunged at Garry, the razor glinting in the dim light as I slashed it across his face. Garry roared in pain, stumbling back as blood poured from the deep gash running from his temple to his jaw. I didn't stop. I kicked him hard between the legs and he crumpled to the floor with a guttural groan. "You little..." He spat, but I didn't wait to see what would happen next. I bolted out of the room, my bag slamming against my back as I ran down the hallway. Kendrick's shouts followed me, his voice growing louder. "She's gone! Garry!" I ducked into the guest room at the end of the hall, throwing open the window. The cold night air hit me like a slap, but I didn't hesitate. I climbed onto the windowsill and leapt, landing hard on the grass below. Pain shot through my ankle, but I pushed it aside. I ran. The streetlights blurred past me as I sprinted into the darkness, my chest heaving and my lungs burning. Kendrick had lived, but the gang was dead and Garry was bleeding. For years, they forced me to use my medical training to save their lives. Tonight, it had been their undoing.DAMIEN RAPHAËL POV The gun was loaded, the safety off. All that was left was to decide how much his life was worth to him."Please..." His voice cracked, sweat dripping down his face. "I'll give you five million. Just let me live.""Ten." I circled him, calmly.His eyes darted. "Deal. But...who sent you?"I ignored the question. "Where's the check?"He nodded shakily toward the desk. I grabbed the checkbook and pen, tossing them in front of him. Loosening the ropes slightly, I waited.His hands shook as he scrawled the amount.I took the check, glanced at it and tucked it into my jacket.Turning to the door, I paused, letting his relief hang in the air."I’ve already got fifteen million to kill you." I said, glancing back, as the color began to drain from his face. "And I didn’t agree to your offer."His face paled, panic setting in. "No, wait..."The single shot cracked through the air, the bullet embedding itself neatly between his eyes. His head snapped back, a trickle of blood r
ROXANNE POV The cool evening air brushed against my skin as I walked down the block, grocery bags in hand.My car—a dented old sedan I was still making payments on—sat a few blocks away.A nagging feeling crept over me as if someone was following me and I glanced over my shoulder. Something felt off.Instead of heading toward my car, I kept walking, tightening my grip on the grocery bags. The block wasn't completely deserted, but it was sparse enough that help would be hard to find.Then I saw it—the small diner where I've been working the night shift, its neon sign glowing faintly in the distance. It was tucked into a quiet corner of the block.I headed straight for it, quickening my pace without breaking into a full run. As I neared the entrance, I caught sight of a few people inside, their voices faintly audible even through the glass. Relief washed over me. Pushing the door open, I was greeted by the familiar clang of the bell above it. The owner, Gladys, stood behind the co
ROXANNE POV I jumped out of the car and knelt beside the man, my breath catching in my throat. My hands trembled as I cupped his face, trying to steady him—or myself, I wasn’t sure. "Shit...shit...look at me!" I muttered, as I scanned his features for any sign of recognition. His eyelids fluttered and for a brief moment, his chestnut eyes opened. They were unfocused, hazy, but alive. Relief hit me, though it was quickly replaced by a strange sense of familiarity. Something about him tugged at me—a face I should know, a name I couldn’t quite place. Before I could make sense of it, his eyes slid shut, his body going limp. "Daddy!" The sharp, high-pitched cry startled me. I turned and saw a little girl rushing toward us, her light brown eyes filled with fear, tears streaming down her face. She dropped to her knees beside me, her tiny hands pressing against his chest and her sobs grew louder. "Hey, hey, it’s okay," I murmured, softening my tone as I reached out to her.
ROXANNE POV Three days. It had been three long days since I let Angelina and her father into my cramped apartment, three days of trying to hold everything together, to pretend like life hadn’t just flipped itself upside down. I stood at the stove, flipping a pancake, the scent of warm batter filling the small kitchen. My gaze flicked over my shoulder, catching Angelina watching me with quiet curiosity. Her little fingers tapped against the counter in a rhythm only she seemed to understand, her bright eyes tracking my every move. Despite everything, she’d adjusted surprisingly well. Too well. There were moments when I caught her humming to herself, swinging her legs as if we weren’t holed up in a tiny apartment. And Raphaël…he still hadn’t woken up fully. He’d stirred a few times, muttering words I couldn’t quite make out before slipping under again. The fever had broken last night and that was the only reason I’d let myself breathe. The private doctor I managed
ROXANNE POV Slowly, I turned to face him, my back pressed firmly against the wood. He loomed over me, tall and broad-shouldered, his presence both intimidating and impossible to ignore. "I—I’m sorry." I stammered. "I asked you a question." He murmured, his voice low and commanding. "She’s...she’s in the kitchen. Eating Pancakes." I blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. His eyes narrowed, studying me like he was peeling back every layer to uncover the truth. I stood frozen under his scrutiny, feeling small but unwilling to look away. "What’s your name?" He finally asked, his voice quieter. "Roxanne." I breathed, barely audible. His gaze didn’t falter, moving over my face like he was memorizing every detail. After what felt like forever, he stepped back. The gun in his hand, no longer pointed it at me. How did he even find—I watched as he eased himself back onto the bed. The gun rested loosely in his grip now, though his wariness lingered. Relief c
ROXANNE POV "Daddy!" Angelina’s excited giggle floated through the air as I stood at the sink, my hands buried in soapy water. Turning around, I spotted Raphaël stepping into the kitchen, his tall frame filling the doorway. Angel clung to his feet, giggling as he shuffled forward. Our gazes met briefly and for a split second, there was a strange tension in the air. He placed a phone on the counter, breaking the silence. "I borrowed your phone to make a call." He explained, his tone matter-of-fact. His eyes drifted to Angelina, his expression softening. "Wait, what?" I frowned, drying my hands quickly with a dish towel. Picking up the phone, I stared at the lock screen. "How did you even access my phone? It’s locked." I held it up, arching a brow. Raphaël lifted Angelina effortlessly into his arms, his movements calm and fluid as she nestled against him. "I have my ways." He replied, his voice carrying an unbothered confidence. His vague response didn’t sit well wi
ROXANNE POV Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders. "Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m not going to the cops or anyone else, okay?" "You can all just leave and forget I even exist." I tried to keep my tone firm, hoping they’d understand I meant it. The ginger-haired man scoffed behind me, his voice dripping with disbelief. "You really expect us to buy that?" I turned, meeting his skeptical eyes head-on. "If I wanted to, I would’ve done it the second I saw his Glock Model 40." My eyes darted to Raphaël as I spoke. The room fell silent, their expressions unreadable as they exchanged glances. Fred finally broke the silence, smirking as he leaned back against the countertop. "Alright then. What’s your price for keeping quiet? Money?" His tone was mocking, the slight arch of his brow making it clear he was testing me. "Keep what quiet, exactly? And I don’t want your money," I shot back, standing my ground. The truth was, I could use the money. G
ROXANNE POV His hand gripped my neck—not tight enough to choke but enough to make his point. His other hand pressed against the fridge just above my shoulder, trapping me. My mouth parted in shock, my eyes locking with his. The sly smirk curving his lips sent a shiver down my spine. "Don’t toy with me, kitten." He murmured, the nickname laced with sarcasm. "Kitten...funny, isn’t it? Something so small and harmless, yet trying to claw its way out of trouble." His smirk widened. "But if I find out you’re lying..." He leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper near my ear, "...well, let’s just say tearing you to pieces won’t be off the table." The words sent a chill through me, but it wasn’t just the threat that had my stomach twisting. It was the way his gaze dropped to my lips and back to my eyes, predatory and unnervingly calm. I tried to keep my breathing steady, but the glint in his eyes reminded me too much of Kendrick and Garry. That same quiet menace, the kind
DAMIEN RAPHAËL POV Roxanne sighed, setting the chips bag down on the counter, her shoulders slumping. She shook her head slowly. "Even if you could help, Damien," She said quietly, "These people are brutal, heartless and I don’t want to risk getting anyone else hurt for my sake. Especially not Angelina." Her voice wavered at the end and when she turned to glance at me, I caught the shine in her eyes. A tear teetered along her lower lash line, threatening to fall. My jaw clenched at the sound of my daughter’s name—my daughter, born into this shitstorm by blood alone. Even if Roxanne had no idea about us, she was still trying to protect her. If only she knew what the Raphaël family truly was. If she had the faintest idea of who I am—a contract killer raised in a family of merciless tacticians, people who didn’t blink twice before pulling the trigger. I had blood on my hands long before I ever knew how to properly hold a wine glass. And still…this was exactly the answer I expe
DAMIEN RAPHAËL POV I watched as Roxanne turned back toward the guy at the door, her shoulders visibly tense. She let out a soft sigh, one hand curling around the edge of the door. "Look," She said, voice tight but composed, "I’ll talk to your father today. I’ll give him the cash I have now, then pay the rest tomorrow." She paused, narrowing her eyes. "And I’ll forget this even happened." Her hand made a brief, dismissive gesture toward him—toward that—like she was trying to flick the memory away before it burned too deep. He scoffed. "Yeah, right." But then his eyes flicked to me again and I met his gaze. Calm. Cold. Steady. That was all it took. His smirk faltered. His throat bobbed with a hard gulp. And suddenly he wasn’t so sure of himself anymore. "Well…uh—see you around then." He mumbled, shrinking back a little before turning and walking away down the hall. Roxanne didn’t move right away. She just stood there as the door clicked shut. Then she pressed her forehead
DAMIEN RAPHAËL POV The second Fred’s name slipped from Thomas’s mouth, I didn’t wait for another word. I brushed past him, already heading down the short hall without glancing back. His footsteps followed mine. The bedroom door was cracked open. I pushed it and stepped inside. Fred lay propped against the pillows, pale and shirtless, the bandage at his side soaked through in a fresh patch of blood. He looked like hell, his eyes were open, barely, but alert enough to flick toward me the second I entered. He tried to sit up. "Don’t move," I ordered, calm but sharp. "You’re lucky she didn’t let you bleed out on her carpet." A flicker of a smirk ghosted his lips. Or maybe it was the pain warping his face. "She could’ve left me to die," He rasped, his voice hoarse. "But she didn’t." "She kept you breathing," I said plainly, stepping closer to the edge of the bed. "And you’d better not forget that." He let out a shaky breath through his nose. "Yeah. I owe her." "No," I cut in,
ROXANNE POVDamien stepped in without a word. Adam followed, his expression unreadable and the ginger-haired guy with glasses trailed behind them. All three of them wore dark suits, like they’d stepped out of a noir film and straight into my apartment."Are you okay? And where is he?" Damien asked, eyes sweeping across the foyer until they landed on mine.I nodded toward the hallway. "My bedroom." They didn’t waste time. As they moved past me, I shut the door behind them, then made my way to the kitchen.I lingered in the kitchen, dipping the mop back into the bucket and squeezing it out before going back to scrubbing the dark stains near the sink. The scent of bleach was thick in the air, stinging my nose. My fingers had started to prune from handling too much water, but I didn’t care.I needed something to focus on—anything but the way my hands still trembled slightly.Footsteps returned a few minutes later."Who did this to him?" Damien’s voice cut through the silence, low and t
ROXANNE POV The sound of knocking echoed through my apartment like a jackhammer, dragging me out of sleep with a groan. I cracked my eyes open, blindly reaching for my phone. 7:03 AM.Who the hell was knocking this early on a Sunday?Half-asleep and annoyed, I shuffled to the door, muttering, "I’m coming, geez," under my breath. I didn’t even bother looking through the peephole—figured it was probably the landlord or, worse, his arrogant son.But when I cracked the door open, the man standing there wasn’t either of them.He looked like hell—restless eyes, unsteady breathing. There was something vaguely familiar about him, though I couldn’t place it right away."I need to use your phone." He said—demanded really—and before I could blink, he pushed past me and stumbled into my apartment."Hey!" I gasped, instinctively reaching out and grabbing his jacket. That’s when I saw it. Blood. A lot of it. Staining the front of his shirt and smearing across his side."What the hell—?" I starte
ROXANNE POV I didn’t have plans for the weekend. Not real ones anyway. Just the usual: sleep in a little too long, clean up the mess of my small apartment, maybe stare at the ceiling until the thought of Kendrick or Garry made my skin crawl. So when Samuel texted me around midday asking if I wanted to get out of bed for a bit, I stared at the message for longer than I needed to. “You need it.” I told myself. Just say yes. I owed him a thank-you anyway—for the late-night drives, the way he subtly covered my back at work when I was two seconds from snapping at some grabby creep. So, I said yes. Two hours later, I found myself walking beside him through a crowd. Street musicians filled the air with mellow tunes, a light breeze danced through my curls and for once, my shoulders weren’t weighed down by paranoia or stress. Just…ease. "You good?" Samuel asked, glancing over with a half-smile. "Yeah. This isn’t what I expected when you said you had something in mind." I said
DAMIEN RAPHAËL POV As soon as the door clicked shut, Thomas took a seat on the leather couch, balancing his laptop on the low table in front of him. I reached for my glass of whiskey and took a slow sip. "So," I said, voice low, "what do you have for me?" Thomas adjusted his glasses like he always did when he was about to drop something I wouldn’t like. "The Goons." I raised an eyebrow. The name rang a bell, but it was buried in a stack of things I hadn’t bothered to care about. "That’s familiar." I said, crossing my arms. "You heard about them," Thomas said, tapping a few keys, "a couple years back. Street gang from the other side of the city. Got known for home invasions and torching businesses that didn’t pay up. Real reckless crew. Short-tempered. Real messy." I let the info settle, nodding as I stood up from the desk, glass still in hand. "Right," I muttered. "I remember hearing something. Thought they were more bark than bite." "And they went dark a year ago," Th
ROXANNE POV I had just slipped through the back entrance, shrugging on the club’s sleeveless uniform jacket over my skimpy top, when I caught the low murmur of voices drifting from near the side hallway behind the bar.Two waitresses stood in the narrow strip between the storage room and the walk-in fridge—half hidden from view, puffing on cigarettes like it was a lifeline.I recognized one of them as Gia. The other, older, I didn’t know by name yet, but I’d seen her flash smiles that earned her hundred-dollar tips with no effort."Girl," Gia said, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling, "I swear, I’m one tray drop away from losing it tonight."The older one laughed, lighting her own cigarette with a flick of her chipped black lighter. "Don’t let the boss catch you slacking," She said, teasing. "He’s got that look tonight."Gia rolled her eyes. "Please. As long as we keep the men drinking and spending stupid, he doesn’t give a damn.""You’re not wrong," The older one smirked. "And if he d
ROXANNE POV Samuel, the bartender who helped me the other night, tried to lift my spirits after my first shift by offering me a ride home.As we drove toward my apartment, I groaned, staring at him in frustration. "What was I doing wrong?"He chuckled softly, keeping his eyes on the road. "You didn't do anything wrong. You just need to be more patient."I sighed, feeling deflated. "The other waitresses seem to get tips so easily, especially from those drunk, desperate guys.""They're natural flirts." He explained, shrugging. "It makes it easier for them. But that doesn't mean you're bad at it."I huffed. "So, basically, I'm a terrible flirt."He glanced at me and chuckled. "You're beautiful, Roxanne." "Makes me curious to see how you'd look with a bit of makeup." His teasing tone softened my mood and I found myself chuckling too."So, to be blunt..." He added, turning his attention back to the road."You're probably the most natural flirt there. You just don't realize it yet." His w