JUNE 22
CHAPTER 21
The sales floor of Earth Food pulsed with life as if it were a city within a city. Phones rang incessantly, keyboards clattered, and the faint scents of baking bread, roasting coffee, and fresh fish wove through the air like a subtle orchestra. Rows of desks bore the weight of paperwork, invoices, and customer complaints, managed with precise coordination by workers accustomed to both chaos and routine.
Brownie moved confidently among them, clipboard in hand, her sharp eyes noting errors and inefficiencies with a surgeon's precision. She paused at Daniel's corner, where he sat hunched over three screens, scanning numbers with intense focus.
"Daniel, you're quiet today," she said softly, careful not to startle him.
"I'm fine," he muttered, not looking up. But she caught the subtle twitch in his jaw, the way his eyes flicked toward her and then back to the screens. Curiosity. Concern. Something unresolved.
Nearby, Akeem leaned back in his chair, an easy grin on his face. "Relax, man. Numbers don't matter if the customer's happy… mostly," he said, gesturing toward a rookie fumbling with invoices.
Annabel's sharp pen clicked against her desk in response. "Numbers always matter, Akeem. Don't encourage incompetence." Her gaze lingered on Brownie longer than necessary, a quiet jealousy she masked with her usual composure.
Crystal lingered near the coffee station, quietly observing the room. His attention lingered on Brownie as she navigated the space with authority and ease, noting how she handled Annabel's quiet scrutiny and Daniel's silent watchfulness. There was something about her presence that drew his attention, subtle yet undeniable.
The faint hum of conversation dropped as the sales floor doors opened. The room felt heavier, as if the very air recognized the weight of the man entering. He moved with a predator's grace, tall and impeccably dressed, exuding calm yet undeniable danger.
"Good morning," he said, voice smooth and resonant. "Efficiency is mandatory. We meet the standard. No excuses."
Akeem chuckled. "Mandatory, huh? Guess that rules out my coffee breaks."
"Coffee can wait," the man said, eyes flicking briefly to him before stopping at Brownie. There was a soft recognition there, almost intimate. "You," he said, voice low, "I remember when you were born."
Brownie's heart skipped, though she didn't understand why. The acknowledgment carried the weight of family, though the connection was familiar but distant. He gave a subtle nod and moved on, disappearing toward the elevator that led to the upper offices.
----
The day ticked forward. Orders were placed, invoices signed, and the bustling rhythm of the factory continued. By late afternoon, the floor cleared. Only a skeleton crew remained, tied to operations that were invisible to ordinary eyes. Crystal lingered, noticing subtle discrepancies in the paperwork: misplaced slips, oddly marked crates, deliveries that didn't align with invoices. Something was off.
Brownie, uneasy, stayed behind as well. Her instincts told her to keep an eye on Crystal. Something about him had changed, though he waved off her subtle questions. She kept her eyes on him, noting the way his fingers brushed the mug on his hand, the tension in his jaw, the slight darkening of his eyes. "Crystal, you've changed," she murmured quietly.
"I'm fine," he replied, his voice flat but protective. He didn't look at her, focusing instead on the mug in his hand.
The soft hum of the lights shifted as Vio entered the sales floor. He was tall and broad, radiating calm that masked the dangerous predator beneath. His eyes scanned the room, lingering briefly on Brownie with a faint smile that carried a lifetime of unspoken familiarity. He had known her since birth, almost an uncle, a shadow guardian she had never recognized.
"Keep them sharp," Vio said, voice measured but firm. "No mistakes. Not today, not ever."
His presence commanded attention, and as he moved toward his office, his gaze swept over Crystal — sharp, calculating, recognizing something beneath the surface, though not yet fully.
Moses soon arrived at Vio's office, accompanied by a quiet entourage. Their conversation, hushed and deliberate, lingered in the hallways like smoke.
"She's talented, Vio. Keep an eye on her," Moses said, voice steady, eyes narrowing as they spoke of Brownie. "And Crystal… he's… different. Be careful. He may dig where he shouldn't."
Vio's lips curved in a faint, almost unreadable smile. "I know my role, Moses. You trust me with this?"
"You do your job," Moses said, the weight of years in his voice. "Don't fail me now."
----
Later, as the office emptied for the day, Crystal lingered, curiosity gnawing at him. Something had been left behind — a folder, dusty and unassuming, atop Vio's desk. He slid it open carefully, revealing a photograph of two men in military gear: one unmistakably Moses, the other a younger version of his father, Van Mervin Crystal III. The back read: "June 22 — the day we made history."
A groan from the rear of the office made him freeze. Instinctively, he followed the sound to a corner of the room, discovering a hidden panel beneath Vio's desk. Heart pounding, he pried it open, revealing a staircase leading down into darkness. The metallic scent of something foul hit his nose as he descended.
At the bottom, the shadows moved. Crystal's breath caught as he witnessed a figure — Vio — dispatch someone with brutal efficiency. The subtle grace in Vio's movements betrayed his calm yet terrifyingly lethal nature. Crystal's pulse raced. He had uncovered something much darker than simple corporate deceit.
He stepped back, knocking a loose pipe. The sound echoed, and suddenly Vio's gaze snapped in his direction. Crystal turned, sprinting back the way he came, his mind calculating escape routes. He had no idea Vio fully realized his identity yet, but instinct screamed danger.
-----
The dim light of the underground corridor barely touched the damp concrete walls. Crystal's breath was steady, controlled, his eyes scanning every shadow for movement. A faint shuffle echoed behind him, and then he heard it — a voice, timid but unmistakable.
"Crystal?"
He froze for half a heartbeat, then recognized the sound of her panic. Ahead, the pursuers' footsteps grew louder. Crystal's instincts kicked in. From a distance, his voice cut through the darkness, sharp and commanding:
"RUN!"
Brownie's head snapped in the direction of the voice, confusion clouding her expression. She didn't see who had called, and for a moment, panic gripped her even harder.
Then he was there, emerging from the shadows with lethal precision. Without hesitation, he swept her into his arms in one fluid motion, not breaking his pace even once, and bolted down the narrow corridor. Brownie's arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, her legs tucked close as adrenaline surged through her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, glancing down at her without slowing, his voice calm despite the chaos around them.
"Looking for you," she replied, her breath quick, eyes wide with worry and awe at how effortlessly he moved while carrying her.
Crystal's grip tightened subtly, protective, yet controlled. His eyes flicked to the flickering shadows, calculating their route. The sound of shouts and hurried footsteps behind them reminded them both how close the danger was. A sharp pain flared in his side, and he flinched, though he didn't slow. Brownie noticed the wetness on her palm, and only then did she realize — blood.
"Crystal!" she exclaimed, panic cutting through her words.
"I'm fine," he said, forcing a grin, even as a sharp stab of pain made him hiss softly. "Keep moving. Focus on me, not them."
Her heart pounded as she pressed her hands against his side instinctively, trying to gauge the wound. He flinched again, but the look in his eyes was calm, almost… familiar, like he had danced with danger his whole life.
They burst into an abandoned section of the factory — a half-finished building with open windows and exposed beams. Crystal gently lowered her to the floor, still guiding her movements so they wouldn't waste a single second. Brownie knelt beside him, hands shaking but determined, and began tending to the knife wound.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly, brushing her fingers over the entry point, trying to ease his flinch.
Crystal met her gaze, a faint but genuine smile playing on his lips. There was honesty in his eyes that made her chest tighten. "I'm used to it," he murmured. "It's… just life."
Brownie's heart raced, the weight of the chase, the blood, and the revelation of his resilience pressing down on her. And yet, in that moment, she understood something vital — this was his world, and he moved in it as naturally as breathing.