Chapter 20
Raven
Gator advanced toward us, his crew falling in behind him like ducklings. The sound of their leather shoes scraping concrete, baseball bats dragging along the pavement, and knives being flicked open created a symphony of intimidation.
Maya and Leo instinctively huddled behind me, their breathing quick and shallow. I smiled placidly at the approaching men, but I wasn't just watching—I was assessing. Old habits die hard, and years as Phantom had taught me to categorize threats in microseconds.
Seven men total. Only one true professional—Gator himself. The knife-wielder had calluses in all the right places—experienced, dangerous. But the three with gun-shaped bulges under their jackets? They walked with a lazy swagger, trying too hard to look menacing. Virgin triggers—they'd never actually shot anyone.
And the one with the baseball bat? His pants hung so low I couldn't fathom how he'd swing effectively without tripping himself.
I couldn't help but shake my head slightly. These street soldiers needed serious remedial training.
Gator stopped a few feet away, his eyes narrowing as he noticed my evaluating gaze.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" he growled, his hand hovering near the weapon concealed at his waistband.
I smiled apologetically. "Sorry, bad habit. I was just grading you all."
"Grading us?" His voice dropped dangerously.
"On your capabilities as thugs," I clarified with a light shrug. "Don't take it personally—it's just that the quality of street muscle has really declined. I mean, look at the team you've assembled." I gestured vaguely at the group. "Zero potential. That includes you, by the way."
"The fuck did you just say to me?" Gator's neck tendons strained against his skin.
The restaurant owner pushed forward, his face flushed with rage. "Don't listen to her bullshit, Gator! She's just stalling! Teach this smart-mouthed bitch a lesson!"
I tilted my head, my voice deliberately casual. "Are you really that obedient, Gator? Taking orders from a barbecue joint owner to assault three high school students? I thought you were supposed to be running things around here."
Gator's mouth opened, then closed. Something in my relaxed posture—arms casually crossed, weight balanced perfectly—made him hesitate. He spun toward the restaurant owner.
"Fuck you! Who's giving orders to who? I'll take the entire ten grand. You understand who's boss here, you moron?"
The owner deflated, his voice dropping to a mumble. "But we agreed on an eighty-twenty split—"
"I want it all," Gator snarled before turning back to me. The predatory glint returned to his eyes. "I don't care who you think you are or what mental problems you've got. I want the money. Now."
I smiled wider. "I'm willing to give it to you. You're just not willing to take it."
A flash of confusion crossed his face before he laughed. "There's nothing I'm not willing to take, sweetheart."
"You won't take it," I continued calmly. "In fact, you'll be on your knees begging me not to give it to you."
"Enough games!" Gator snapped, grabbing a knife from one of his men. The blade glinted in the streetlight. "Keep playing, and this pretty face won't be so pretty anymore."
Behind me, Leo's voice cracked with fear. "Raven, please! We'll get the money! Don't make this worse!"
Maya whimpered, her fingers digging painfully into my arm. "Please, Raven. I don't want to die here..."
I shrugged them off, my eyes never leaving Gator's. "What's wrong? Afraid to show me your skills? I've been wondering what passes for knife work in this neighborhood."
Gator's crew started egging him on. "Fuck her up, boss!" "Cut the bitch!" "Teach her some respect!"
Fury flashed across Gator's face. He lunged forward, slashing the knife horizontally toward my cheek in a move meant to disfigure, not kill.
I leaned back slightly, the blade missing by millimeters. His momentum carried him forward, off-balance.
"Too slow," I commented, as if giving feedback to a student. "Try again."
Gator's face contorted with rage. He slashed again, a diagonal cut aimed at my other cheek. Again, I moved just enough to avoid the blade.
"Is this really your best?" I asked, my voice dripping with disappointment. "I expected more from someone with your... reputation."
Something snapped in Gator's eyes. Humiliated in front of his crew, he abandoned finesse for raw brutality. With a guttural roar, he drove the knife straight toward my heart, putting his full weight behind the deadly thrust.
Maya screamed. Leo shouted my name in horror.
But I didn't step back. I didn't even flinch.
Instead, I moved forward, my body flowing like water. In that fraction of a second, my index and middle fingers snapped around Gator's wrist with machine-like precision. The knife stopped dead, its tip hovering a hair's breadth from my chest.
Gator's eyes widened in shock. The veins in his forearm bulged as he pushed with everything he had—but the blade wouldn't move a millimeter closer. He tried to pull back, his face reddening with effort, but his arm remained locked in place as if caught in a steel vise.
"What the—" he grunted, genuine fear flickering across his face for the first time.
"Your hand is shaking," I observed calmly, my voice soft enough that only he could hear. "How do you expect to kill anyone like this?"
Confusion and alarm spread through his crew. They shifted uneasily, exchanging glances, uncertain whether to intervene.
I smiled—not a friendly smile, but the cold expression of a predator toying with prey. With subtle pressure from my fingers, I began moving Gator's hand. He struggled against my control, but his arm followed my guidance as if it belonged to me.
"My friends are here today," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't want to scare them too much. Perhaps we can find a more peaceful solution."
I guided the knife tip to my collar, using it to hook the chain around my neck. With one final manipulation of his hand, I made him lift the pendant from beneath my shirt.
Satan's Heart emerged, dangling from its chain, the black crystal catching the moonlight with an otherworldly gleam.
The effect was immediate and astonishing.
"No," Gator whispered, all color draining from his face. "It can't be..."
I released his wrist. The knife clattered to the pavement as his fingers went limp. He dropped to his knees so suddenly it must have hurt.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" he babbled, his voice stripped of all its previous menace. "I didn't recognize—I would never have—"
"Still want my money?" I asked sweetly.
"No! No, of course not!" He was practically groveling now, his forehead nearly touching the dirty sidewalk. "I wouldn't dare take anything from you. I'm not worthy to be in your presence!"
The restaurant owner stared in shock. "What the hell, Gator? She just stopped your knife! Get up and finish this!"
Gator sprang to his feet, but not to continue the attack. He whirled on the restaurant owner and drove his fist into the man's stomach, dropping him to the ground gasping.
"You fucking idiot!" Gator roared. "Do you have any idea who she is? This is your fault!"
He turned back to me, a nervous smile plastered on his face, and dropped to his knees again. His crew exchanged bewildered glances.
"Boss, what's happening?" one of them ventured.
"KNEEL! All of you!" Gator's command was so forceful that all seven men immediately complied, forming an absurd semi-circle of genuflection on the dirty sidewalk.
I suppressed a laugh. Satan's Heart was having quite the evening. Gator clearly recognized it, which meant he was connected enough to know about Phantom—or at least the legend. His underlings didn't have the same privileges, but they followed orders without question.
Maya and Leo cautiously moved to my side, their expressions a mixture of relief and utter confusion.
"What... just... happened?" Leo whispered, staring at the kneeling men.
I slipped the pendant back under my shirt. "Like I said—the bigger the gangster, the better the manners. Shall we go?"