The road narrowed as Raven approached the broken sign for Clearstream Aquatics, the letters barely legible through the rust and mildew. Her tires hissed across gravel as the Ironhowl X4 eased into the hatchery's cracked and frost-laced parking lot. The air reeked of damp algae, forgotten dreams, and rotting ambition.
She shut the engine off but let her hand linger on the wheel. She didn't need to remind herself what this place was. The weak fencing, the half-deflated water tanks, the leaky gutters that bled dirty runoff down the barn walls—every inch of it was exactly how she remembered. Even in this life, this timeline, it hadn't changed.
The front office door slammed open like it always did, squeaky hinges crying out. And there he was.
Neil Greaves.
Still balding. Still wiry and twitchy. He wore an oversized puffer vest and jeans stained with something too dark to be just water. His hands flailed above his head in a half-wave as he jogged out, plastering on a smile that didn't match the darting panic in his eyes.
Another day, another desperate pitch to a would-be customer.
Until he saw her.
Neil slowed mid-stride, his boots crunching awkwardly to a stop in the slush as Raven stepped out of the Ironhowl.
She moved with calm, lethal control, adjusting the collar of her dark coat as the door shut behind her. The wind pulled at strands of her midnight-blue hair, fanning them behind her in loose waves. Her emerald green eyes met Neil's instantly, unblinking, sharp and cold. Even in the pale winter light, she radiated authority—tall, athletic, and striking, every step she took silent but deliberate, purposeful.
His jaw hung open for half a second before he closed it.
"Holy shit," Neil thought, eyes trailing her curves under the heavy coat. "Who the hell looks like that in January? Is she a movie star? Some influencer? Damn. And she's tall, too. Six-foot-something. Perfect skin. Model face. Total goddess. What's someone like that doing out here?"
He straightened his vest, wiped his hands on his jeans, and pasted on his salesman persona like cheap cologne.
Raven stopped about six feet away, close enough to show she was here for business, far enough that he'd never get close unless she let him. Her expression didn't change, not even when Neil's eyes roamed her face like a rat sniffing through kitchen scraps.
"I want your entire inventory," she said flatly. "All of it."
Neil blinked, startled at how direct she was, then immediately flashed a grin like he was in control again.
"Well now," he chuckled, eyes never leaving her body. "Someone's serious. You've got good taste, I'll give you that. These fish aren't easy to come by—especially the saltwater stock. Not many folks got tanks for those anymore. Takes knowledge and precision control to handel both salt and fresh water fish."
He rocked slightly on his heels, trying to puff himself up. "We're one of the best hatcheries in the region, you know. I've been doing this a long time."
Raven didn't say a word.
Neil misread her silence as interest. He leaned in slightly.
"Course, for a big spender like yourself… maybe we can work out a deal." His eyes dropped for half a second, then rose back up with a half-laugh. "If you're willing to be nice, maybe I'm willing to be generous."
The sleaze clung to his words like oil on a sewer pipe.
Raven tilted her head just slightly.
It was subtle, but it was the kind of movement that predators made when they were gauging exactly where to bite. Then she smiled—not the kind of smile that warms a room, but the kind that silences it.
"You're facing bankruptcy," she said quietly. "You're blacklisted from every major buyer in the region. You can't sell to the state. Can't sell to distributors. Hell, you probably haven't had a single legal transaction in three months."
Neil blinked, thrown off. His fake grin began to crack.
"And if you don't sell to me today," she continued, her voice still soft but razor-edged, "then one day when you come back from your little supply run oh no someone left a door open. Power went out. Filters stopped. Oxygen levels dropped. A shame, really. You'd wake up to a thousand floating corpses and no insurance to cover it."
She stepped forward half an inch, not enough to touch, just enough for the temperature to drop.
"Accidents happen. Fires. Power surges. People forget to check alarms. And fish... they die so easily when no one's around."
Neil's face lost all color.
The chill wasn't in the air—it was in her words. She hadn't raised her voice once. But it felt like he'd been slapped, his lungs forgetting how to work for a moment. The sweat forming at his temples wasn't from the cold.
He straightened awkwardly, eyes flicking toward the tanks in the back, then toward the hatchery building. He hadn't locked the door. He hadn't checked the emergency generator this morning.
His lips parted, his voice shaky.
"Wait… Are you threatening me?"
Raven didn't answer. Not with words. She just looked at him with those same steady, venom-bright eyes, and he knew exactly how little his life meant to the woman standing in front of him.
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