Chapter 8
2151words
Sinclair Dominion HQ | Office of The CEO
Early Afternoon
Five months had passed. Not that anyone had bothered to mark the day on a calendar or etch it into memory, but Lucian felt its weight in the subtle rewiring of daily routine. It was in the way Raven no longer waited for instructions, and in how he no longer gave them without necessity. Their silence, once taut and evaluative, had settled into something more neutral—an atmosphere born not from camaraderie, but a quiet, mutual understanding shaped by necessity, friction, and an accumulation of unspoken exchanges.
Lucian stood at the tall, paneled window of his office, staring out as the city blurred into an early afternoon haze of glass, steel, and muted ambition. There were fewer directives now, fewer moments where he felt the need to assert control. And yet, somewhere beneath the daily rhythm, something in him had begun to stir—restless, uncertain. He couldn’t name it. But it often surfaced when she was in the room and not speaking.
Behind him, Raven was perched on the edge of a low conference table, arms folded, still as stone, while Eli leaned against the opposite wall, the sort of casual stance that masked the anticipation of someone about to drop an important update, but who was waiting for just the right amount of tension to build first.
"Everything’s in order for today’s exchange," Lucian said, his tone steady. "Route’s locked. Clearances confirmed. No surprises—on paper, at least."
Raven nodded once, a sharp tilt of her chin. "Still feels like a trap."
Eli scoffed, arms tightening over his chest. "You say that about every meeting."
"And I’m still alive," Raven replied dryly. "So who’s wrong?"
Lucian allowed himself the faintest hint of a smirk. "We’re taking two vehicles. Vex and Ash will handle the cargo transport. Raven, Eli, you’re with me. We meet the clients, make the trade, and we’re back before dinner."
"Famous last words," Eli muttered, sotto voce.
Sinclair Dominion HQ | Sub-Level Parking Garage
Raven stood like a statue beside the matte-black SUV, arms crossed over her chest, exuding the kind of still menace that made people walk faster when they passed her. Across from her, Eli twirled the keys in his hand like a man holding a ticking device.
"I’m driving," he announced with mock confidence.
"No," Raven said flatly, not even making a move toward him.
Lucian, nose still buried in a digital tablet, didn’t look up. "We’ll be late."
"Exactly," Eli replied, lifting the keys for emphasis. "Which is why I should drive. Because I don’t drive like I’m headed to my own funeral in 1953."
"She doesn’t drive like that," Lucian murmured, more to himself than to either of them.
"She does," Eli insisted, stabbing a finger in Raven’s direction. Then, to her: "You don’t even check before you change lanes."
"I assess blind spots faster than you blink."
"I like blinking! I need my blinks! They keep me alive."
Raven stepped forward, the motion slow and deliberate.
Eli took an immediate half-step back. "Nope. Don’t do that predator slow-walk thing. Just ask for the keys like a normal human being."
"I want the keys."
"...Right. But now I feel bullied."
Lucian sighed and looked up. "You are being bullied. Just give her the keys, man."
Eli looked betrayed. "She has no emotions, Lucian! She’ll drive us into a ditch and call it ‘a tactical pivot.’"
"She hasn’t yet."
"Which is what worries me. She’s due."
Despite his protests, Eli tossed the keys toward her. Raven caught them midair without so much as looking. A ghost of a smirk touched her lips—not full, not showy, but just enough to rattle Eli.
"You scare me," he muttered, climbing into the passenger seat.
Inside the SUV, luxury met lethal utility. Matte leather, cool steel, and the faint hum of power beneath the dash created a soundless pressure.
That silence didn’t last.
"Are we... merging without a signal?" Eli asked as Raven threaded them through two lanes of sluggish traffic with a precision that was both terrifying and graceful.
"I did signal."
"No, you flinched, and the car took it as a polite suggestion. Not the same."
A horn screamed from behind them, quickly fading into the ambient chaos of the city.
Lucian looked up from his tablet. "Was that the third or fourth horn?"
"Fifth," Eli reported grimly, bracing himself against the dash. "We passed four cars on the shoulder. And she—I swear to God—just looked at the guardrail like it insulted her mother and floored it."
Raven remained unbothered. "We’re on schedule."
"We’re on a list."
"You’re exaggerating," Lucian murmured.
"She ran a red light."
"It was pink," Raven corrected.
"Pink is not a traffic law color!"
Lucian shifted, finally lowering the tablet. "Are we even taking the assigned route?"
"No," said both Raven and Eli.
Eli launched into the rest. "She detoured through a service lane and an underground loading dock—which, by the way, was CHAINED OFF—because she said the lights on 9th were timed inefficiently."
"They are," Raven said.
Lucian gave up the fight with a sigh. "Just let her drive."
"I did. That’s the problem."
Another sudden turn—smooth, but sharp enough that Eli’s shoulder hit the door.
"Oh my God."
"You’re fine."
"I left behind my whole life, Raven! A family. A cat."
"You don’t have a cat," Lucian said.
"I was gonna get one."
No laughter followed, but the faintest twitch touched Raven’s mouth. A near-invisible gesture. Barely human. But real.
Lucian caught it. And it startled him more than the reckless drive. Because Raven didn’t laugh. She barely spoke. And that—that faint smirk—was the first sign in five months that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t all armor.
He didn’t mention it.
By the halfway point, Eli was gripping the door handle like it owed him money, Lucian had stopped pretending to read, and Raven remained calm—an apex predator in traffic. Behind them, the second vehicle, a matte-black armored van, followed without deviation.
They pulled into the clearing with a low growl of tires on uneven gravel. The SUV barely stopped before Eli flung the door open and stumbled out, hunched over like a man recovering from a near-death experience.
“Thank God I’m alive,” he muttered, staggering a few paces from the car with one hand on his knee. “I’m alive. I lived through that.”
Raven didn’t move. Still behind the wheel, she calmly shifted the vehicle into park, her face as unreadable as ever.
Lucian, still inside, glanced at her with something between curiosity and disbelief. “You smiled back there.”
“I didn’t.”
“It wasn’t much. But it was real. I saw it.”
She finally looked at him, one brow arched. “You were busy pretending to read.”
“And yet I still caught it.”
“That says more about your reading comprehension than my face.”
He allowed himself the ghost of a smirk, but said nothing more.
Outside, Eli was still muttering to himself and inspecting the sky like he needed to confirm it was still there.
Remote Forest Outskirts | Near Storage Compound
Mid-Afternoon
Tucked deep into the overgrowth at the edge of a forested incline, the storage compound sat like a forgotten relic—concrete half-buried by time, its walls veined with moss and clawed by vines. What little road remained was choked by weeds and gravel, the last stretch barely passable.
Ash and Vex stepped out from the van, immediately moving to the rear. They began loading the crates with silent precision, every motion watchful.
Lucian stood near the SUV, eyes flicking between the manifest and the treeline. Eli lingered nearby, voice low. "Still don’t trust these buyers," he said.
Lucian didn’t look away from the clipboard. "They paid full price. On time. With paperwork. That puts them above average."
Nearby, Raven hovered like a shadow cast by steel. "Still," Eli murmured, "that last guy smiled like he wanted to slit your throat more than shake your hand." Raven spoke up without turning. "Then let’s hope he’s better at handshakes."
Lucian almost smiled.
Ash closed the rear doors of the van with a hollow thud, giving a short nod toward Lucian."All set."
With little else said, the team regrouped, vehicles revving low against the thick silence of the woods. The road ahead wound through more forest, narrowing before splitting off toward the old industrial zone where the exchange would take place.
Raven drove. The SUV carved through the narrowing trails with practiced ease, the sun hanging low as branches arched overhead. In the rearview mirror, the armored van followed like a shadow.
No one spoke. They were past the point of doubt. Only the job remained.
Remote Exchange Site
Late Afternoon
They reached the drop point—a decommissioned industrial site carved between crumbling roads and a forest boundary. Sunlight filtered through broken scaffolding and hung heavy in the stagnant air. Ideal, on paper. But Raven felt the edges of something wrong—the kind of stillness that didn’t just fall. It was placed. Held. Like someone waiting for breath to break it.
Lucian’s SUV pulled in first, settling beside warped storage crates. Ash and Vex arrived close behind, flanking the area. Their clients were already there—three men in tailored suits who carried themselves like they had more weapons than smiles. Lucian stepped forward, briefcase in hand, posture crisp. The transaction unfolded as rehearsed: nods, briefcases, formalities. Smooth.
Raven didn’t join them. She circled the SUV, eyes tracing the forest edge, the rooftop line, the shattered windows overhead. Her fingers rested near her holster.
"See anything?" Eli asked, appearing at her side.
"Not yet," she answered.
But her voice had sharpened.
A few minutes later, the buyers left. Lucian stood by the vehicle, watching their cars fade into the trees. The last of the daylight slanted across the broken pavement.
"They’re gone," Eli muttered.
Lucian turned toward the SUV.
And that was when Raven shouted, "Down!"
A heartbeat later, she slammed into him—bone, breath, and instinct colliding. A red laser had bloomed across Lucian’s chest an instant before the shot rang out. The bullet shattered the SUV’s side window.
The ground slammed into his back beneath her weight. For one surreal moment, the world slowed—and he wasn’t staring up at his agent. He was staring into the eyes of a stranger who had made a choice to die for him.
"Shit!" Eli dropped behind the tire, pistol drawn. Ash and Vex snapped into cover.
"Sniper!" Ash called out.
Raven was already scanning the treeline. A snapped twig. A flicker. Static cut across their earpieces. Multiple signals.
"We’re surrounded," Raven said. "Move. In the building. Now."
They sprinted.
The structure loomed ahead—a forgotten water treatment facility half-submerged into the hillside. Concrete, stairwells, collapsed corridors.
They burst inside. The air was stale. Cold.
"Well. That felt personal." Lucian panted.
Raven answered. "It was."
"That’s comforting." Eli muttered.
"Upper floors," Raven barked. "We need high ground."
Ash opened the stairwell. "On it. I’ll take rear—"
"No. Stay with Lucian. You and Vex. Move him, keep moving."
"We don’t split—"
"This isn’t about us. It’s about him. I hold them off, or we all go down."
"You’re not a one-woman army," Vex growled.
Raven glanced into the dark. "For him, I am."
Lucian felt something twist in his chest—not fear, not command, but something older. A pressure behind his ribs, like the echo of a name he hadn’t said in years. He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure what to call the storm building behind his silence.
"You’re not staying behind," he said finally.
Raven turned toward him, voice cold and quiet. "You don’t give that order right now."
Ash hesitated.
Then nodded. "You better catch up."
Raven was already gone.
She disappeared into the dark, where boots echoed, radios chirped, and enemy formations swept the halls. Tactical. Precise.
But not ready.
One by one, they went down.
Above, Eli crouched behind cover. "We need to move."
"She’s buying us time," Ash replied.
Through every doorway, every flight of stairs, they saw her. One of the men hesitated—not in fear, but in recognition, like he knew the rhythm of her violence. They caught glimpses. Raven killing in silence. Sliding from shadow to shadow. Like war itself, made flesh.
Lucian watched in disbelief. "Who the hell is she?"
He had seen her take down men before—clinical, quiet, efficient. But this wasn’t that. This was something else. There was no hesitation, no room for orders. Only a storm in a woman’s body, controlled and lethal. And suddenly, he didn’t know her at all.
No one answered.
They burst through the exit. Dusk painted the world in orange fire.
"Go!" Ash yelled.
They ran. Raven emerged from the shadows beside them, blood on her arm.
"Black Harrow."
A voice from the trees. Everything stopped. And Raven turned.
Some names get buried. Others come back like bullets.
—To be continued.
