Darcy Raven: THE WOMAN

A deafening gunshot echoed through the room, yet not a single person flinched; they had all anticipated the eruption of violence. 

"Get rid of this fucking shit," commanded a woman clad in a black suit with a crimson vest. She gazed at the lifeless body before her, her expression devoid even a of emotion. 

Seated on a sofa, legs crossed and right arm stretched over the armrest, she casually tossed her gun onto the coffee table. Her siren-green eyes exuded intensity, and her face remained stoic. 

"Yes, boss," two underlings replied in unison, swiftly dragging the lifeless form away from her. 

"Darcy!" shouted a man with disheveled auburn hair, rushing in from the same door the underlings had vanished through. His dark brown eyes trembled with fury, as if he had uncovered the greatest betrayal of the century. 

Darcy didn't utter a word; she uncrossed her legs, raising an eyebrow at the man. "You were right. It was that Collins bastard's plan all along," the auburn-haired man said through his gritted teeth; he sure did uncover the greatest betrayal. 

Darcy scoffed sinisterly, standing up and retrieving her gun from the coffee table. "What are we waiting for? Let's end this shitty drama once and for all," she declared. Her imagination painted a vivid picture of her gun's next targets begging for mercy in their final moments and she could not help but smirk. 

But the man halted her. "Darcy, they're Collins. I know you can handle anything, but we should plan. Haste won't serve us well. They have a decade-long history with your family. Mr. Raven won't be pleased." 

Darcy glanced at her arm, which the man was holding. She gave him a silent quizzical look, and he immediately withdrew his hand, his face burning under her intense green gaze. "Although I see your point, Dominic, don't you ever dare question my words again. And when have I cared about my old man?" 

Dominic sighed, stepping aside and averting his gaze. "So many years together, and you still don't understand. Why follow the plan when it'll only slow you down? My gun alone is enough for that Collins bastard." Darcy was stern in her words, reminding Dominic why she was the boss, despite being younger than him by three years. 

"Hey, you," she called to another underling, smirking. "Call the boys. Tell them not to touch the body. I'll give that Collins bastard a big surprise today—finally he would have something to compare to his size, but only if he manages to stay alive, which I certainly doubt that." 

Darcy chuckled darkly, winking at Dominic, who looked away, flustered. 

Even in a moment of worry and intensity, she could still shake his heart, keeping the ignition lightening up in his heart of his feelings for her. 

... 

Invading the so-called nightclub that stubbornly persisted at six in the morning, Darcy and her crew moved with unstoppable force. The rich, spoiled brats—squandering their parents' fortunes on drinks and whores—were thrown into a frenzy, scrambling for their lives as both Collins and Ravens fired shots with abundance. 

And in no time, Darcy reached the VIP private area, undeterred, kicking the door down to force her entry as the gang of the Collins lay to the ground behind her. 

"What the hell!" roared a naked man from within, initially irritated, but his anger swiftly morphed into sheer terror as he laid eyes on Darcy at the door, backed by her people. 

Her expression, twisted in disgust after looking at him in the midst of doing the deed and the half-naked woman shrieked and bolted for safety, leaving the horrified man frantically searching for his clothes. 

"Dominic! Cover that disgusting pile of meat with something," Darcy shouted at the top of her lungs, battling the urge to vomit. Dominic wasted no time, sprinting behind her to shove the overweight figure back onto his couch while snagging a curtain from the wall. 

The double-sized man coughed violently as Dominic's heel made contact with his chest, cursing loudly when the curtain was thrown over him to cover his huge mess of flesh. "You pieces of shit think you're better than me?" he roared, attempting to mask his fear with rage, though in reality, he trembled to his core. 

"Listen, you bastard, I'm not here to hear your whining," Darcy declared, snapping her fingers. And in the next second, two of her underlings, a man and a woman, walked behind her, tossing the lifeless body in front of the overweight man. 

The horrified expression on his face brought a satisfying chuckle from Darcy as she traced her teeth with her tongue in pleasure. 

"You should have known better, Peter. Our families had an unspoken, unwritten rule of not crossing each other's boundaries. If you were going to be the first to break that rule, then expect no less from me." Peter clenched his fist, witnessing his right-hand man lying dead on the red carpet of the VIP private room—his blood creating a stark contrast with the luxurious marble flooring. 

"You! How dare you touch him!" Peter shouted again, irritating Darcy, who sighed at the interruption. Dominic, standing beside Peter, yanked his hair, causing him to groan in pain as he stared into Dominic's deadly brown eyes. "When our boss speaks, people stay quiet. Know your place or you'll regret, you bastard." 

Peter gulped, choosing to keep silent, even as his eyes burned with rage at the sight of his gang member who was as close as a brother to him. "How sad. He'd still be alive if you hadn't sent him after me." Darcy strode forward, a fiery intensity in her eyes, and pressed her gun under Peter's chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. 

"Shouting in front of a girl like a man you are, but the instant another man speaks, you piss your pants. Quite the display of masculinity, huh?" Darcy despised the lingering notion that, despite her fearsome reputation, there were still men like Peter who believed they could challenge her simply because she was a woman. 

"The same mistake this dead bastard made. He thought he could play with me just because I'm a woman, but man, was he so wrong. Because I am not a woman; I am THE WOMAN. He conveniently ignored that part, I guess, and here he is lying right in front of you." The fear etched on Peter's face was so gratifying that Darcy smirked and lowered her gun away from his chin. 

"Looks like you finally understand who you tried to mess with. So, no worries. I will give you two options, and the choice and outcomes will be entirely up to you." Darcy's sinister smile sent shivers down Peter's spine, and he stammered out an agreement, desperate to spare his life. 

Darcy strolled away and settled comfortably on the couch opposite Peter, crossing her legs just the way she liked. "Either you shut down your smuggling channels with Russia, or you lose your life right this instant." 

Peter struggled to keep from shouting and getting shot in the head on the spot. What Darcy proposed was preposterous in his eyes. His family's entire business, painstakingly built by his father over the years, relied on those smuggling channels. 

If he were to stop them, they'd be left with nothing but ten measly nightclubs. Moreover, many nightclub customers were also purchasers of their smuggled drugs. 

"Darcy, you—you know that's almost impossible. Collins are nothing if those smuggling channels are stopped." Peter stuttered, and Darcy nodded, understanding his dilemma. 

"Okay, so you are choosing the second option." Darcy nonchalantly loaded her gun, pointing it at Peter without bothering to change her comfortable position. 

"NO! NO! NO! Darcy, please, don't do this," Peter pleaded, joining his hands, and making Darcy scoff in annoyance. 

"Look, you meat of a jerk, you might have all the time in the world since you're probably going to choose to die with my hands because of your greedy ass, but I have a lot more to do than just kill your sorry self." Darcy showed no hint of pity; she was dead serious about making Peter's demise her endgame. 

And Peter did in fact almost peed himself looking at the cold gaze fixed on him, no trace of humanity was in her siren green eyes and Peter knew he had nowhere to go now. 

Knowing that Peter was all talk, Darcy understood that even on his deathbed, the old man Collins wielded the most power. Even if Peter wanted to, he wouldn't be able to alter that. She had been toying with him the entire time. 

"But you know those smug--" Peter's sentence was cut short as Darcy shot him between the brows, a perfect and deadly shot. 

"I told him that I am not as free as him," Darcy sighed, shaking her head. She glanced at Dominic, who understood her silent command to take care of the body and erase any evidence from the club's CCTV. 

"What about Mr. Raven?" Dominic asked, his face reflecting concern. 

Darcy shrugged, indifferent. 

"Old man Collins has been on his deathbed for a whole year now, so I doubt he'll have time to even think about this. My old man has become slow as well. Until he finds out, I'm out of trouble." Darcy chuckled and walked out of the private room, leaving Dominic to sigh and shake his head. 

He wished Darcy would be a little less of an adrenaline junkie, but he knew it was just a wistful hope; it was nowhere near her nature. 

... 

Taking a sip of her Americano, Darcy closed her eyes, savoring the bitterness on her tongue and relishing the strong jolt it sent to her head, waking her up to the brim. 

The new café in the area was undoubtedly pleasant, but it wasn't like Darcy to lounge around in such a place. 

After all, She was there to meet one of their informants; someone with crucial, top-secret information about their enemy territory. Choosing a location where no one knew her was imperative. 

Suddenly, someone occupied the seat across from her—a person Darcy had never seen before. 

Normally, she would have glared at the intruder, intimidating them away. However, this guy seemed unusually energetic and cheerful. 

Darcy furrowed her eyebrows, curious to see what he was up to. "I am really sorry about Victor; that jerk is the biggest lazy bum in the world. I don't know how he became an artist, I swear," the guy spoke awkwardly. His nervous demeanor was evident as if he was attempting to engage in small talk. 

It wasn't an unfamiliar scenario for Darcy; she could draw attention from men easily, but none quite like him! 

The guy possessed soft features, milky white skin, a height similar to hers, and sandy brown hair and eyes. He was the epitome of softness, and even the gaze in his eyes held an innocence that was quite new for her. 

"And who might you be?" Darcy asked, adjusting her posture. She had leaned down on the chair before but now sat upright, crossing her legs and tilting her head, studying the guy with curiosity. After all, if there was one thing she enjoyed in this world, it was handsome men.