The air was still taut with silence as Verena Langford staggered backward, clutching her cheek where Raven’s hand had just landed a satisfying slap. Her mouth opened, searching for a retort, but no sound ca out—just stunned breath.
A beat passed.
Then Raven turned away like she’d slapped a fly. The crunch of gravel under boots signaled the arrival of another figure. A male employee in his mid-30s with salt-dusted work gloves and a Stonevale logo stitched across his vest walked up beside Raven.
"Can I help you, ma’am?" he asked, professionally neutral—except for the subtle thumbs-up he flashed at Raven, barely visible from his waist.
Raven gave him a sharp little smile. "Yes. I’d like to order twenty tons of salt. Delivered to this address by tomorrow morning."
She handed him a slip of paper with the address of the Salvatore warehouse.
Behind them, Verena’s heels scraped against the gravel as she picked herself up. "I already placed the salt order for your father. You don’t need to worry about it," she spat, adjusting her sunglasses and glaring. "Don’t be such a bitch. No wonder William complains about you so much, Raven."
Raven turned calmly.
Then her hand moved.
Crack.
This ti it was a backhand.
Verena spun half around from the force and landed flat on her ass in the gravel, kicking up a fine puff of dust around her designer coat.
The man beside Raven stiffened—then grinned to himself and politely looked away.
Verena scrambled to her feet, clutching her other cheek now, eyes wide. She didn’t say a word this ti. Just turned and stalked off toward her luxury car, humiliated and fuming.
Raven didn’t even watch her go. She adjusted her jacket and faced the employee again.
"Like I said," she repeated, brushing nonexistent dust from her sleeve, "twenty tons of salt. Delivered by tomorrow morning."
The man blinked, but nodded. "We can do that, but with expedited shipping, it’s going to cost a fortune. Might need a team running all night to get the trucks moving."
Raven pulled out the black credit card and handed it to him.
"Money is no object. Get it done."
He whistled low, taking the card reverently.
"Also," Raven added, voice smooth as silk, "make sure you give yourself a massive tip—hazard pay for dealing with that bitch who just left."
The man laughed under his breath. "You got it. I'll get the paperwork started."
Raven nodded once and turned to leave, the Ironhowl X4 waiting with its engine quietly humming behind her. Another resource secured. Another enemy put in her place.
There were eight days left ti to move on.
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