A single bulb swings overhead, making the shadows dance on the old corrugated metal walls of The Nest's med corner.
Selene sits half-armored on a rusted stool, blood drying like tar down her thigh. Her mask rests on the table beside her — cracked at the temple where Talon's claws found flesh.
Jess's hands hover, gloved fingers trembling over the jagged wound on Selene's leg.
A basin of cloudy antiseptic water sits at her feet, already stained pink.
Micah leans against the far wall, arms folded, boots tapping the concrete in a rhythm only he understands — his phone dangles on a cracked cable, feeding him news updates in one ear.
Jess pulls the needle through Selene's skin — her voice is small but sharp.
Jess (mutters):
"One day, you won't limp in here. One day, it'll just be a phone call — Hey Jess, come ID the body."
Selene doesn't flinch — not from the stitch, not from the truth. She watches the bulb's lazy arc above them.
Selene (flat, bitter):
"They'll need dental. My face won't be pretty by then."
Micah snorts a half-laugh, pushes himself upright. He thumbs open a bag of cheap snack mix — pours a handful into his mouth.
Micah (mouth full):
"We'll cremate you. Scatter the ashes in the mayor's fountain. Poetic. Messy."
Jess glares at him. He shrugs.
Selene shifts, wincing — the stitch tears her skin tighter. She hisses under her breath — her gloved hand clenches around the edge of the metal tray.
A memory flickers: her father's hand on her shoulder — her small fingers around his badge.
Never again, baby girl. Never kneel to monsters.
Jess knots the final thread — wipes the blood clean, but her hands are shaking worse than before.
Jess (voice cracks):
"Promise me you'll stop before you're nothing but feathers and scars, Selene."
Selene forces her eyes down — meets Jess's tired gaze.
Selene (soft, honest, hopeless):
"I can't."
Jess closes her eyes. She presses her forehead to Selene's knee, breathes deep, then stands up and peels off her gloves — tossing them into the metal waste bin with a snap.
---
2 — MICAH THE SHADOW CLOWN
Micah strolls over, flicks a peanut at Selene — it bounces off her shoulder.
Micah (teasing, half to break the tension):
"Next time you tango with a metal demon, maybe try not to bleed all over my server cables. One good spark and we're toasted bird nuggets."
Selene rolls her eyes but there's a ghost of a smile in the corner of her mouth. She flicks the peanut back — it bounces off Micah's forehead.
He clutches his chest dramatically.
Micah (mock agony):
"Betrayed by my own boss. Wounded in my own Nest. Should've worked for Google."
Jess watches them — a small piece of warmth in her tired eyes — but she wipes it away before it stays too long.
---
3 — GREER IN THE CROSSFIRE
Far across the city, under the flickering hum of the precinct's basement fluorescents, Greer sits at her battered metal desk — files spread out like a crime scene all their own.
A stack of photos — Talon's twisted body on a slab, half mechanical, half something worse.
Beside it — feathers. Old ones, bagged evidence from a crime scene no one opened in years: ROWAN ARLEN — UNSOLVED.
She flips the photo over. Notes Ward's scribble: DO NOT DESTROY.
Greer's fingers drum the table. She mutters to herself, voice dry, sharp — a blade honed on the city's bones.
Greer (murmured):
"She's not a ghost. She's a goddamn daughter carrying her father's ghost on her back."
A knock raps on the door — soft, then a squeak as it opens. Mendoza slides in, eyes alive with hunger.
She kicks the door closed behind her — the lock clicks.
Mendoza:
"You know what your problem is, Greer? You keep looking at the truth and pretending you don't love it."
Greer doesn't look up — just pushes a photo deeper under a folder.
Greer (flat):
"You smell like stale coffee and desperation. What do you want, Mendoza?"
Mendoza circles her chair, the predator grin in place.
Mendoza:
"Ward's leash is getting short. Yours too. Sooner or later, the Raven screws up — and when she does, I won't need your lab rats and bone scraps to pin her to the wall."
Greer looks up — eyes cold fire.
Greer:
"You'd crucify her for the wrong corpse if it got you on the news."
Mendoza leans in close, whispers into Greer's hair:
Mendoza:
"As long as someone bleeds, Doc — the city will clap for me."
---
4 — WARD THE SHIELD
Upstairs, Ward stands at a cracked window, one boot propped against the radiator. He dials Micah's private line — fingers drumming his badge.
Micah picks up — mouth full of snack mix again.
Micah (mock polite):
"Detective Sunshine, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Ward doesn't smile — his voice is gravel dragged over glass.
Ward:
"Greer's close. Closer than I can stall. Keep her pointed at old ghosts — not live ones."
Micah's laugh is dry static.
Micah:
"Relax. Nobody catches static, cowboy. She'll chase feathers in circles — she's too honest to break your little deal with the devil."
Ward doesn't answer. He stares out at the street — cars crawling through acid rain, sirens slicing the night.
Ward (low, a prayer for his sins):
"Don't make me bury another friend, Micah. Please."
---
5 — RAFI'S SHADOW DANCE
Four blocks from The Nest — Rafi stands in an alley behind a dead bodega. Graffiti ghosts climb the walls: FEATHERS FALL FIRST sprayed in neon green.
He's got his cracked phone taped to the dumpster lid — recording his face, wild-eyed under the flickering security light.
Rafi (into the camera):
"She's real. She's blood and claws and broken promises. They think she's saving them — she's just making bigger monsters crawl out of the dark."
He replays the video — hears his own voice tremble — deletes it.
Rafi wipes sweat from his face — whispers to the shadows:
Rafi:
"One day, they'll see you for what you are, Raven. One day they'll see you… and maybe they'll see me too."
---
6 — KING CROW'S VELVET MAZE
Miles away, behind velvet drapes and old gold, King Crow reclines in his secret roost — an old luxury penthouse, stripped of glass, draped in rotting silk.
A flickering screen shows static — Talon's body, then Selene's cracked mask when she tore the metal beast apart.
Crow runs a skeletal finger along the armrest — taps a slow rhythm like a death rattle.
Masked lieutenants stand at the edges — silhouettes swallowed by the dark.
King Crow (voice like oil in a wound):
"Let her clip wings all night. The nest is deeper than feathers. Phase Two stirs beneath the floorboards — and it will hatch teeth."
A lieutenant steps forward — voice filtered behind a skull mask.
Lieutenant:
"What of the Raven's pets? The girl in the morgue. The tech ghost. The badge dog."
Crow laughs — raw silk tearing.
King Crow:
"We pluck them too — one by one. She'll watch her own wings burn. Then the city will kneel. Ashfall will come — and they will beg for our mercy."
---
7 — SELENE'S PROMISE
Back in The Nest, Selene sits alone now — cloak draped over the couch, Jess curled asleep beside her like a prayer she can't keep.
Micah snores from his rolling chair — screens flicker blue code over his face.
Selene watches the city lights through broken glass — sirens reflecting in her pupils like red knives.
She touches the fresh stitches on her thigh — winces, breathes through her teeth.
A single feather blade sits on the table — gleaming in the dark like a promise.
She whispers to it — to herself — to the father she buried, to the ghosts she can't.
Selene (soft, raw):
"One more monster down. One more lie cut out. They want my wings — they'll get my claws first."
Outside, the rain turns black with oil — and the feathers never sleep.
---
END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX