Friday Evening
A storm crawls over the city — thunder rolling like drums of war. At the precinct, Ward sits in his cramped office, rain hammering glass. On the wall behind him: a line from Selene Arlen to The Raven drawn in black thread.
He lights his third cigarette — lungs don't care anymore. He reads the morgue records again. Her father's file. The murder that never closed. The unsolved web of bodies around The Flock. The feathers.
Collins knocks once — sees Ward's eyes, the file open, the name circled.
> "Boss, you really think she's—?"
Ward doesn't answer. He snaps the file shut, slips it in a weatherproof bag.
> "Tonight, we take the wings off the myth."
---
At The Morgue
Selene stitches another body — a petty dealer riddled with bullet holes. She works with robotic precision. Jess watches from the door, hugging her cardigan tight to her chest.
> "You're different," Jess says softly.
Selene doesn't look up. "I'm tired."
"No. It's not tired. You're… other. Selene, where do you go at night? Who do you see? Why do you come back hurt—"
Selene's scalpel clatters to the metal tray — too loud in the small, cold room.
She turns, eyes dead calm.
> "Stop. Jess, please. You don't want to know."
Jess steps closer. A whisper:
> "Is it you? The papers — the feathers — the Raven? Is it you, Selene?"
Silence. The humming freezer. A heartbeat too loud.
Selene wants to lie. Wants to scream yes. Wants to hug her best friend and say run.
She does none of it. She just picks up the scalpel again — a mask behind a mask.
> "Go home, Jess."
Jess leaves — but she doesn't believe the lie.
---
At The Nest
Micah paces — dark circles under his eyes, hair wild. He's found the breach, the rat's last digital fingerprints. He knows who sold them out: Arlo, one of his oldest black market brokers.
He slams his fist on the battered console.
> "They know everything, Selene! Your safehouses, your patterns, your dead drops — all for a stack of hush money and a bullet in his skull when they're done."
Selene sits silent, strapping fresh blades to her thigh holster.
> "Then burn it down."
Micah freezes. "What?"
> "Burn the trail. Shut it all down. No more safe feeds. No more brokers. Just you, me — and Ward breathing down my neck."
Micah's voice cracks — for once, no joke to hide behind.
> "I'm not gonna watch you die because you think you're the only bullet that matters."
Selene finally meets his eyes.
> "Then don't watch."
---
Ward Moves
Rain slices the streets as Ward's sedan rolls up to Selene's crumbling apartment block. He palms his badge — then the warrant. He doesn't like it. He doesn't want it. But if the wings won't come to him, he'll pluck them from her life piece by piece.
He pushes through the lobby — the doorman watches him with the blank stare of someone who knows better than to ask questions. He climbs three flights — footsteps echoing off rotting paint.
At her door — 3B — he knocks once.
> "Selene Arlen. Detective Ward. Open up."
---
Inside
Selene is not inside. She's on a rooftop six blocks away — rain streaming from her cowl. Micah's voice buzzes her earpiece — frantic static.
> "Ward's at your door, Selene. He knows. He's got your name in ink. You can't come home again."
---
Below
Ward tries the knob. Unlocked. He pushes in — finds the tiny apartment exactly what it is: two rooms, a cracked TV, cold coffee cups, feathers hidden in plain sight. He picks up a black feather from her kitchen counter. Holds it between thumb and forefinger.
> "You stupid, stubborn kid," he murmurs. "What are you doing to yourself?"
---
The Flock's New Game
Somewhere far away — a basement lit by flickering TVs — King Crow watches the news feed of Ward standing in Selene Arlen's kitchen. He laughs, slow and soft.
> "A name for the mask. A mask for the name. Pull it off — watch her drown."
He snaps his fingers — another pawn moves.
---
A Message
Selene finds it when she returns to The Nest — dripping rain over concrete, mind numb.
A box — no bigger than a lunch tray — waiting on her workbench. Micah's drone missed it. The breach is real.
She opens it — finds a feather. Black. Coated in fresh blood. And a photo of Jess — bound, unconscious, Crow's symbol carved on the wall behind her.
Micah reads it over her shoulder. His voice is raw gravel.
> "They have her. They have Jess."
Selene doesn't flinch. Doesn't breathe. The mask slides over her grief like iron.
> "They want The Raven. So they'll get her."
---
Ward's Office
Ward gets the call. Anonymous tip. Jess Phelps, morgue tech, kidnapped.
He reads the note left in her locker: "The Raven can't save you all."
He slams his fist into the murder board — feathers scatter like ash.
---
The Nest
Micah loads the feed — guns, drones, every last digital ghost. He tries to joke — but his voice cracks mid-laugh.
> "Bring her back, Selene. Bring her back and burn them to the bones."
Selene slides the last blade into place. The rain pounds on The Nest's roof like an omen.
> "Tonight," she whispers. "The mask doesn't come off."
---
The city waits — mouth open, teeth wet.
The Raven's wings spread wide — ready to stain the sky black.
---
END OF CHAPTER NINE