Her Principles

"What are you thinking about?" Dominic asked as he walked up to Darcy, who stood on the rooftop of Ravens & Co. 

She had been contemplating the events that would be happening in the period of a month. She wasn't the one to be easily scared and she certainly wasn't in the moment. It was just that certain aspects of her father's words lingered in her thoughts since their encounter. 

"That, everything is going to end soon," she replied with a small smile on her lips. That smile was both peaceful and anticipating as if her century-old wish was about to be true. 

Dominic tilted his head, examining her beautiful face illuminated by the moonlight. His heart felt full just looking at her glowing like that. "Are you even sure you want to do this?" Dominic asked hesitating, as he knew that Darcy was skilled at concealing her true feelings and thoughts despite him being one of the closest people to her. 

Darcy snickered, looking down at her scarlet heels that matched her red suit. With a deep breath, she turned to Dominic, her smile still present. While he was still praising her beauty in his subconscious, making his heart skip a beat at the sudden attention, but he did his best to stay calm and not show how affected he was just by a single smile from her. 

"When have I ever not been sure? I've been waiting for this moment all my life. The only thing I'm worried about is my mother." As she spoke about her mother, Darcy's green eyes flared with intensity, as if every memory of her surfaced. 

"She loved that bastard too much that I sometimes wonder if she will resent me for casting him aside," Darcy said, gazing at the sky as if searching for her mother among the stars, seeking approval on the path she had chosen. 

It was not the first time; Darcy frequently questioned such matters to herself, and these were the most vulnerable moments when Dominic had glimpsed beyond her usual facade of rage and sarcasm. Those other emotions were reserved solely for her mother. 

Twenty-two years had passed since Darcy bid her final farewell to her mother, who succumbed not to physical but mental torture. 

Her parents' marriage was arranged to subdue the feud between two gangs, Ravens and Beaumonts. Despite Mr. Raven's lack of commitment to the relationship, Darcy's mother, Gracy, fell deeply in love with him after their marriage. 

While her husband indulged in relationships with other women, Gracy remained faithful and wielded every effort to win him over. However, this changed drastically when Darcy entered the picture. 

When Gracy discovered her pregnancy with Darcy, she made the courageous decision to flee, unwilling to subject her child to the brutal world of the mafia that had caused her so much suffering. 

During the time Gracy was married to Mr. Raven, she had become close to one of his subordinates and when she sought his help, he readily agreed, concerned for her safety. 

They fled, but Mr. Raven, who although had no feelings for Gracy, considered her his property, chased them relentlessly. Despite his indifference toward her, he felt angered by her betrayal. 

Tracking down Gracy, he not only brought her back but also killed the man who had aided her escape. 

After her return, Mr. Raven confined Gracy to a room. Darcy vividly remembered, even to this day, the tragic moment when she was just five years old, witnessing her mother take her last breath, driven nearly insane by the confinement and the harsh realities of her circumstances. 

The haunting image of her mother yearning for Mr. Raven's love lingered in Darcy's mind, an indelible memory that had shaped her perception of love and relationships negatively. 

"More than Mr. Raven, I am certain she loved you. She would understand even if she would want the opposite," Dominic replied, his words caught Darcy off guard as he was usually advising her against her decisions. 

"Sometimes you really know what to say," she praised him, though the acknowledgment was laced with sarcasm. 

"I always say the right thing, but most of the time, they are just not to your liking," Dominic quipped, eliciting a scoff from Darcy as she gave him a side-eye. 

"After fifteen years, you have learned to be cheeky, huh?" Darcy questioned, her eyes squinted. Dominic looked away, a smile playing on his lips. 

At the moment, it did not at all feel like he was standing with his boss Darcy who would send glares at him just for uttering one word. It was more like someone he had known for the past fifteen years and developed a close relationship with, which was a rare occurrence considering Darcy's personality. 

... 

"Are my words a joke to you?" Darcy's voice was cold and unforgiving as she crossed her legs, leaning back in a worn-out chair. 

The red-haired man, bound in thick black ropes and at her mercy, felt the weight of her glare that sent shivers down his spine. The tense atmosphere surrounded them in the middle of a desolate warehouse, and all of Darcy's underlings present there remained silent, well aware that their colleague was facing the consequences of his actions. 

"I-- I am sorry. I-- am really sorry. It will never happen again. I swear, I-- I swear on my dead mother," the man pleaded desperately. His attempt to invoke his dead mother's name, instead of evoking sympathy, only seemed to irritate Darcy. 

Silently standing up, Darcy left the almost broken chair. Everyone's eyes were fixed on her, anticipating what was about to happen. As she pushed the red-haired man with her leg, she walked up to his face and forcefully planted her ebony heel on his face. 

The man groaned in agony, but Darcy only smirked, drinking in the satisfaction of hearing his cries of pain. He continued to apologize and beg for mercy, but in that moment, Darcy was relentless, being the ruthless persona that had earned her respect and fear in the world she navigated with her own calculations. 

"Say-- say something, please. I will never touch you after this, I promise," the red-haired man pleaded, his eyes turning to his wife standing in a corner, terror etched on her face. He expected her to intervene, to save him, just like the last time. 

However, swallowing the lump in her throat, the wife turned her gaze away, shedding a few tears. 

"You're one shameless bastard, aren't you!" Darcy sarcastically chuckled, intensifying the pressure on his face with her heel. The man cried out even louder in pain. 

In truth, the man had done nothing directly to Darcy. Instead, he was a loyal dog who would never bite his owner. 

But his misdeed was the regular abuse he inflicted upon his wife and that was something Dracy would despise more than betraying the gang and their loyalty. 

Darcy had discovered the ongoing abuse and confronted him in front of his wife before, but he managed to manipulate the situation. Last time, the wife forgave him, and he promised not to repeat his mistakes. 

However, he continued the abuse, and this time, the battered woman sought Darcy's help. 

"I-- I won't do that ever again," the man pleaded, his body trembling with fear. "Please, for the sake of our child, don't do this to me," he begged, crawling away from Darcy in desperation. 

The plea struck a chord, prompting Darcy to halt immediately. She knew that they did not have any children. Her emotions surged as she realized that the abused woman was pregnant. 

The cruelty the man had inflicted upon a pregnant woman fueled her anger even further and her eyes became bloodshot in a matter of a second. "You! Do you want me to go easy on him? Then tell me right now, don't regret it later," Darcy offered, her eyes filled with sympathy for the woman. 

The pain in the woman's eyes resonated with Darcy, arousing memories of her own mother's struggles, if only someone had intervened to end her mother's suffering. 

The decision weighed heavily on the abused woman, but she shook her head slowly and hesitantly. "I am tired-- and I want nothing to do with him anymore," the woman declared, her eyes closed. The difficulty of her decision mirrored the pain she had endured. 

"Then you should take care of yourself, because you'll be free from him from now on; that is my promise to you," Darcy assured the woman, locking eyes with her. 

The woman's gaze, which was fatigued, held all of the remorse, fear, gratitude, and hope simultaneously. It was evident that the woman had reached this decision after crossing the limits of what she could bear. 

As the woman left the warehouse hurriedly, escaping the dungeons of her misery, Darcy took in a deep breath, trying to calm her surging emotions. 

"Hand over that metal baton to me," Darcy commanded, her eyes fixed on one of her female underlings who immediately nodded in compliance. 

"Darcy--" Dominic began to speak, concern etched on his face as he hesitated to witness one of Darcy's own people facing her wrath. However, a glare from Darcy silenced him before he could voice his thoughts. 

"Dominic, don't you dare say a word about it," Darcy warned, knowing the internal conflict within Dominic's mind. Loyalty to subordinates was crucial, but so was upholding the principles she deemed essential. And she needed others to know to not take her words as a joke so things would never repeat themselves. 

The man, the subject of her forthcoming torment, cried for mercy and even begged Darcy to just shoot him in the head. Because he understood better than any other victim of Dracy's wrath, that once the torture began, death might be a relief compared to the pain that she would inflict on him.