Page 31 of Hollow Forest

The mysterious Ravello family owned the other.

“Say, have I met any of the Ravello family?” I asked as we approached the roped off parking lot. Yellow caution tape flapped in the strong gusts of wind, blowing in chilly gusts off the water.

“Sure have, honey,” Maria chuckled, passing me the flask of apple pie moonshine. “I’m a Ravello, Raef’s mom was before she married, and even Ivry is…for now.”

Ivry giggled and twisted her engagement ring.

I took a long sip of the sugary drink, telling myself to go slow. According to my coworkers, there would be multiple stalls selling this heathenish drink tonight, each with a famous recipe. But they were pregaming with this homemade batch.

“Most of the town has some blood tie to the family,” Derek added. “There’s only a handful of transplants, like yourself, who don’t have connections.”

I shivered. It was like a bad drama on TV. A town run by a single family, with a ghostly tendril hiding in plain sight. I’d heard the whispers. There were Ravellos—and then there were Ravellos.

When I’d asked the girls the question, I meant the latter.

The originals, the main branch. The members of the family everyone whispered about, saying how they were connected to the mob. It wasn’t hard to believe that long established tradition where rule breakers carved their own society still gave the middle finger to the law. The mob still had a presence in parts of Florida, so it didn’t surprise me that I stumbled into one such organization’s turf. If this town was run by such a family, I was here for it. And the gossip about a faction of the Ravello family being tied up in that made me curious, especially since my landlord seemed to be part of the main branch. Whether he was part of organized crime or not, Giuseppe—or Seph, depending on who you asked—seemed to hold sway in this place. I had yet to meet him, to my knowledge. Part of me wanted to thank him for completely gutting and rebuilding the rental property, even if he’d waited until after I’d moved in to do so.

The other wanted to put a name to the face so I could stay clear of him. A man with that much disposable income, someone who could command a crew of construction workers to drop everything and dance to his tune, was the type of man to hold power. I didn’t need to be on his shitlist.

Ever.

Especially if he was a mobster.

We followed a group of tourists through the main gate, and my stomach growled at the scent of kettle corn. But it was the big, red candied apples that made my mouth water. I wanted to sink my teeth into the sweets, devour a couple until my jaw was locked tight with sticky candy coating.

It was my turn to take another swig of the moonshine. Cinnamon, brown sugar, and booze flooded my senses as I followed the girls, chiming into their conversation when necessary. Truth be told, it was nice to be out. I missed feeling normal. But as we wandered through the rows of booths, an itch prickled the base of my neck.

Pretending to look at some homemade sourdough loaves, I scanned my surroundings. It felt like someone was watching me. Which, of course, was highly probable since I had a stalker. Still…the warm rush of pleasure that accompanied the ludicrous knowledge never came. I was exposed. I was in public. The living thrived around me.

I told myself I was just nervous about running into the man I came to this town to kill.

That reassurance did nothing to ease the cool sweat breaking out across my body. So, I paused and looked around but didn’t see my target. Maybe Antonio hadn’t come.

What if he sees me?

The pumpkin sourdough loaves lost my interest as a shudder rolled through me. I’d been so careful when I started this hunt. But something about the Cove beckoned me to come alive.

“Here! Try this version,” Maria exclaimed, breezing up to us with both hands full of shot glasses.

I took mine, throwing it back. The shimmering essence of the shining moon burned the back of my throat, while the tang of cider remained on my tongue.

A shiver passed through me, making my body shake.

With a cough, I looked to the right, then left. There was no sign of the ghost who’d passed through me. While I’d never seen the spectral form of my sister, there were times where a glimpse from the corner of my eye would steal my breath.

Like that flash of deep chocolate hair disappearing through the crowd.

I rubbed my neck. A sickening dread washed through me. Dezzy wasn’t haunting me, but I almost wished she was. Even seeing her ghostly features would lessen the ache I carried around me, a scar that never healed.

Would she actually begrudge you a moment of normalcy?

Another shiver crawled down my spine.

To distract myself, I pulled out my phone from my back pocket. My fingers had a mind of their own, and I tapped out the message before I could really think through the invitation.

There was no need to call out to the darkness. Things had settled into a boring rhythm. But call me crazy, it would be a relief to know my stalker was near. A guardian shadow in some twisted sense of reality.

Someone who understood me, without knowing every heartbreaking detail of my life.