The fog sits heavy on the docks like it's been waiting for this. Thick, wet air curls around the steel skeletons of cranes and shipping containers, muffling footsteps, distorting sound. Somewhere in the distance, a ship bell tolls — low and ominous.
We move like ghosts through the shadows. Alejandro's at my side, every movement fluid, calculated. He's too quiet. Focused. And for once, I don't bother with sarcasm. My pulse is too loud in my ears.
Warehouse Twelve looms ahead like a corpse waiting to be cracked open. The door is already ajar — just enough to invite, just enough to warn.
My fingers graze the knife at my thigh, and I glance at Alejandro.
"Ready?" I ask.
He doesn't answer. Just pushes the door open further.
Inside, it's worse.
The warehouse is empty — or it looks that way. No crates, no machinery, just open space swallowed by shadow. A few cracked windows near the ceiling let moonlight trickle in, soft and silver, barely cutting through the gloom.
We step inside.
And then I feel it.
We're not alone.
A shape moves near the center of the space. Still. Tall. Cloaked in shadow, face obscured by a dark mask — serpent-shaped. His presence doesn't just take up space. It consumes it.
My stomach coils.
That's him.
The Viper.
He doesn't speak. Doesn't move.
Alejandro steps forward slowly, hands relaxed, but I see the tension in his spine. "You sent for me," he says evenly.
The Viper doesn't answer.
My grip tightens on my blade.
This isn't right.
He knows we're here, and yet he says nothing. His body language is eerily calm, but I can feel the storm underneath — like a predator sizing us up, waiting for the right moment.
Then, he lifts his hand. One slow, deliberate gesture.
A warning. Or a message. I can't tell.
"Talk," I snap. "Say something, you fucking coward."
Nothing.
Not a word.
Alejandro raises a brow. "This some kind of power play?"
The Viper tilts his head. His eyes — shadowed by the mask — don't blink.
"Enough of this." I lunge forward.
Alejandro's hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist — too late.
I'm already moving, my blade drawn, cutting through the air toward the masked figure's throat.
But he's faster.
The Viper shifts to the side with a grace that shouldn't belong to someone his size. He grabs my arm mid-strike, twists, and I feel the force of his body whip mine around. I hit the floor hard, rolling to my feet, blade ready again — but he's already backing away.
Silent. Untouched.
I charge again.
"Raven!" Alejandro's voice cracks through the warehouse.
But I'm seeing red.
He killed Robin.
He is the reason my brother bled out on cold pavement. And now he stands there — untouched, unbothered, mute like we're not even worth his breath?
I don't give a shit what Phoenix said.
He dies tonight.
I swing high. Low. Slash to the side. Every strike is fast, brutal, clean — but he dodges all of them like he's been trained for me.
And then, just as suddenly, he throws something to the ground.
Smoke.
A thick, black burst blinds us both. I cough, stumble, drop into a crouch. When it clears, he's gone.
Gone.
"Fuck!" I roar, slamming my fist into the ground. The pain shoots up my arm, but I barely feel it.
Alejandro is quiet beside me. His jaw clenched. Watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling.
Then footsteps echo behind us.
I spin, blade back in hand — but it's Phoenix, flanked by Crow and Sparrow, guns drawn, faces tense.
"What the hell just happened?" Phoenix demands.
"He was here," I growl. "The Viper. I had him."
"And now he's gone." Phoenix's voice is ice.
"I almost had him—"
"But you didn't," he cuts me off. "Because you never fucking listen."
I step into his space, chest heaving. "Don't blame this on me."
He leans in, whispering low but venomous. "You think this is about blame?"
"He was right there—"
"You think I don't know that?!" he explodes, louder than I've heard him in months. "You think I don't lie awake every fucking night imagining what I'd do if I saw him again?"
We're nose to nose now.
Crow and Sparrow are watching with tight jaws, ready to step in.
But Phoenix isn't finished.
"You think this is a game, Raven? Charging in, throwing blades like you're invincible? You let your emotions get in the way and he played you. He let you think you had a shot and then vanished like smoke."
My fists clench.
He's right.
That's what hurts the most.
Alejandro steps forward. "That wasn't an accident. He wanted her there. He let her see him. Let her get close. He wanted us to feel the weight of missing him."
"And you," Phoenix rounds on him. "You let her go in there knowing she wouldn't hold back."
Alejandro shrugs. "I didn't let her do anything. She made a choice."
Phoenix doesn't buy it. "You work for him. Don't forget that."
"I did," Alejandro says calmly. "Past tense."
"That doesn't mean I trust you."
"Good," Alejandro replies. "I wouldn't, either."
The silence that follows is electric.
I finally break it.
"I want to be the one to kill him."
Phoenix turns to me. "Then you stay close to Alejandro."
I blink. "What?"
"I mean it." His voice is low, final. "He's the only link we have. If you want to see the Viper again, stay with him."
"I'm not babysitting your damn asset."
"You are if you want to end this."
"I don't need him."
"You do," Phoenix snaps. "We all do. Until this is over."
I look at Alejandro. He meets my gaze, unreadable.
And I realize something in that moment — something sharp and ugly.
He knows. He knew the Viper would be here. Knew what I'd do. Knew exactly how it would play out.
And he didn't stop me.
Because he wanted to see what I'd do.
He wanted to test me.
Phoenix grabs my arm. "Raven—"
I yank it away. "Don't. I'm staying with him. Not for you. Not for him. For Robin."
Phoenix's eyes darken. "Then don't fuck it up again."
I walk past him, past Crow, past Sparrow.
Back into the dark.
Back to the one man I should never have trusted.
But maybe that's the point.
Maybe monsters can only be caught by monsters.
he car ride is too quiet at first.
The kind of quiet that's thick with unspoken rage and grief and something sharper — betrayal maybe, or disappointment. The glow of the dock lights fades behind us, swallowed by the dark, and still neither of us speaks.
Alejandro drives with one hand on the wheel, the other draped across his knee, knuckles still healing from violence. His face is unreadable — too calm, too quiet. The blood's gone from his sleeves, but not from my memory.
"You always this quiet after someone tries to kill you?" I mutter, eyes on the road ahead.
He glances at me sideways. "Only when they miss."
I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I wasn't trying to miss."
"You didn't."
He reaches forward and flicks on the radio.
The hum of static fills the space between us until it finally locks onto something clear — a low, soulful voice wrapped in steel-stringed melancholy.
Wise men say... only fools rush in...
I blink. Elvis.
"What the hell is this?" I snap.
"Music," he replies, eyes never leaving the road.
"No shit. Why are you playing that?"
"I like it," he says, adjusting the volume like this is a perfectly normal time to enjoy a love song. "You don't?"
"I didn't peg you for the sentimental type."
He chuckles. "I'm not. But even stone can feel sometimes."
I scoff again, sinking deeper into the passenger seat, arms folded like armor. "You really think now's the time for a love song?"
"I think you're bleeding in ways you haven't figured out yet," he says quietly. "And I think you hate being reminded you can feel anything at all."
I whip my head toward him, fury bubbling up. "You don't know a thing about me."
His voice doesn't rise. It doesn't have to. "I know what it looks like when someone wants to stab the past and can't find a sharp enough knife."
That lands too close to home. I look out the window, jaw clenched, heart pounding.
Elvis croons in the background, the words sharp and cruel in their softness.
Take my hand, take my whole life too...
"Turn it off," I say.
"No."
"Turn it off, Alejandro."
He doesn't. He taps the steering wheel instead, fingers in time with the beat.
I reach for the dial myself, but he grabs my wrist — not hard, just firm. "Leave it."
The silence that follows is worse than the song.
Because it lets everything else in.
The Viper's mask. His silence. The way he vanished into the fog like smoke before I could end him. The look on Phoenix's face when he told me to stay close to Alejandro.
The last thing I ever wanted was another order from him.
"Do you think Phoenix knew?" I whisper.
Alejandro's fingers tense slightly on the wheel. "Knew what?"
"That the Viper would get away. That I'd choke. That maybe... maybe I wasn't ready."
"He doesn't think that," Alejandro says. "But you do."
I don't respond.
I don't have to.
Alejandro's knuckles whiten. "He's your brother. That kind of faith is supposed to be automatic."
I bark a bitter laugh. "Phoenix doesn't do faith. He does control."
"And you do revenge."
"Don't pretend you're any different," I snap.
"Oh, I'm worse," he says with a slight grin. "But I never said I was trying to be better."
The song ends.
The silence returns.
But it's changed now — less suffocating, more haunted.
"You didn't ask the question," Alejandro says.
"What question?"
"Elvis or Johnny Cash?"
I blink at him like he's lost his damn mind. "Are you seriously—?"
"Humor me."
My voice is dry. "Johnny. He's darker. Broken. Real."
Alejandro nods like he's satisfied. "Same."
We fall into silence again, this time more reluctant. I press my fingers to my temples, breathing through the ache growing behind my eyes.
"Why do you do it?" I ask finally.
"Do what?"
"Help us. Help me. You got nothing to gain. No promises. No guarantees. So why?"
He's quiet for a moment too long. When he finally answers, his voice is low.
"Because I've lost things too."
I glance at him. "Who?"
He doesn't answer.
But the way his fingers tap slower on the wheel, the way his eyes darken just slightly — it tells me more than words could.
"You think you can find peace through this," I say.
He doesn't deny it.
"So can I."
"No, Raven," he says softly. "You want vengeance. Not peace. You haven't earned peace yet."
I bristle. "You don't get to decide what I've earned."
"No," he agrees. "But maybe I'm the only one willing to tell you the truth."
I bite back a retort because deep down... I know he's right. And that's what infuriates me the most.
The car slows as we reach the edge of the estate. Gravel crunches under the tires as he pulls up the long driveway. The sky is still dark, but lighter at the edges. Dawn is trying to crawl its way in.
"Get some sleep," Alejandro says as we park. "You're gonna need it."
"I don't sleep," I murmur.
"You should."
He kills the engine, and for a moment, we just sit there — locked in some invisible war neither of us really wants to win.
"I hate you sometimes," I say quietly.
He smiles. "Good. That means you're still fighting."
I open the door but pause halfway out.
"Elvis sucks."
His laugh follows me into the cold morning air