Shadows stretched long in the gym yard as Razor's Vipers charged, chains whipping air like angry serpents. Eight against twelve—odds even, but fury tipped scales. "For Draven!" Razor bellowed, blade flashing toward Alex.Time slowed. Alex's veins hummed; Elena's words echoed—shadow weavers. Instinct flared. He thrust a palm; dust from the crumbled brick swirled into a gritty vortex, slamming Razor back. "What the—freak!" Chains froze mid-swing, ensnared by writhing tendrils of darkness from alley cracks.Scarface roared, tackling two Vipers into crates. Rico lobbed tools with pinpoint aim, Spike dodging like a feral cat to trip a third. Mrs. Patel swung her rolling pin—crack!—felling one with maternal wrath. Jax hurled hot sauce bottles, blinding eyes; Lin's noodle cart became a barricade.Lena fought beside Alex, pipe cracking a Viper's knee. "Your hand—shadows? Explain later!" Her eyes sparked admiration amid chaos.Razor freed himself, lunging wild. Alex sidestepped—unnatural grace—gripping the man's wrist. Shadows coiled, sapping strength; Razor dropped, gasping. "Monster... Draven warned..." The rest fled, dragging wounded.Silence fell, broken by cheers. Elena gripped Alex's arm. "Control it, mijo. Focus, or it feeds." His hand steadied; shadows receded. Not a dream.Crew swarmed: "Boss wove darkness!" Spike knelt. "Teach us." Lena cornered him: "Shadow Don for real. Bloodline? Spill.""Later." Alex eyed the horizon. Cops absent—Draven's reach? Elena pocketed the journal. "Elders sense you now. Train tonight."Rico clapped. "Victors feast!" But as stars pierced smog, a black SUV idled blocks away. Inside, Victor Draven smiled coldly, watching feeds. "The weaver awakens. Send the hounds."Alex felt it—a pull, deeper than blood. Harbor was home. But shadows whispered war.
