Rain still hammered the glass facade of Obsidian House, streaking neon light into jagged rivers of color. Elaris's heels clicked silently across the obsidian floor as the investor gestured her toward a holographic table, alive with shifting maps and financial streams.
"Before we proceed," he said, voice smooth as glass yet sharp as a blade, "I want to understand the real strength of your initiative. Not the public face. The hidden… edges."
Elaris's jaw tightened. She had rehearsed this a thousand times, but nothing prepared her for the weight of the predator studying her like prey.
Kael stood a half-step behind, silent sentinel. His eyes never left her, yet he didn't intervene. That was the game, he knew. Observe. Control. Protect silently.
The investor's gaze flicked to Kael, then back to her. "You've taken over Sector 5 operations. Impressive. But what happens if an outside force challenges your network? If a betrayal occurs within?" He slid a holographic dossier across the table. Faces blinked in red: staff, security, known contacts.
Elaris felt a prickle of tension. Every name was a node she controlled—or thought she did. One wrong move, and they'd crumble. Her pulse rose, but she stayed poised, voice steady.
"I prepare for every contingency," she said. "Every node, every link, every variable has a countermeasure. My team is loyal. My systems secure."
The investor leaned back, smile like a predator testing a new toy. "Loyalty is… fluid, Miss Veyra. Humans are rarely perfect. What if one of them is… compromised? Can you make the hard choice without hesitation?"
Kael's jaw flexed. He could feel her hesitation. The cost wasn't abstract. It was real. Life and death layered over strategy like a second skin.
She met his gaze, unflinching. "Then I act. I do what must be done to protect the mission and the people who are critical. No hesitation. No mercy for betrayal."
The investor's smile deepened. "Good. But words are easy. Actions… are where truth is revealed." He waved a hand, and the holo-table transformed. Live feeds of city districts, team members, and financial transactions streamed in real-time.
"Your team's reaction times. Your financial leverage. Every variable, every risk… I want to see how you adjust when everything is tested simultaneously."
Elaris felt the familiar surge of adrenaline. This wasn't just a boardroom test. It was a battlefield disguised in luxury and neon. She stepped closer to the table, touching controls, rerouting simulations, initiating emergency protocols. Every move calculated, every response measured.
Kael watched, silent, analytical. His presence was a tether—she could feel it anchoring her, reminding her that even predators had shadows they couldn't fully control.
The investor circled slowly, fingers steepled. "And your brother? You've taken calculated risks, yes… but he is leverage I could exploit. Do you risk exposure for family?"
Elaris froze. The question wasn't hypothetical. The memory of the surveillance image burned in her mind. Alive. Waiting. Maybe vulnerable. Her jaw tightened.
"I'll take the risk," she said quietly, eyes locked on the holograms. "Because he matters more than any strategy or advantage. That… is the edge you underestimate in me."
The predator paused. Kael's fingers twitched at his side. Silence stretched. Then the investor chuckled—a low, dangerous sound. "Admirable. Foolish. Both. Very well. We'll see how far your conviction takes you."
He leaned forward, face close enough to feel the warmth of neon on skin. "Virelia is a city of shadows, Miss Veyra. Choices have consequences. Some… permanent. Remember that when you step into the Crimson Coast."
Elaris didn't answer. Her fingers still hovered above the holographic controls, each decision a silent declaration of intent.
Kael finally spoke, low and deliberate: "Every predator has a weakness. Know yours. Exploit it, or die trying."
The investor straightened, stepping back. "Your performance was… enlightening. And necessary. The Crimson Coast awaits, if you survive the week. Fail, and your brother's life… becomes irrelevant."
Elaris's reflection glimmered in the obsidian panels—determined, unbroken, aware of every eye in the room. Rain pounded against the glass. Lightning fractured the sky.
The boardroom's air felt heavier. Every breath was calculated. Every movement a potential threat. She wasn't just playing a game of strategy anymore—she was inside the mind of a predator, forced to think three steps ahead, where even truth and loyalty were weapons.
Brother alive. Predator watching. The Crimson Coast promises fire, blood, and betrayal. Who will strike first—and who will survive the opening move?