1 — FEATHERS IN THE BLOOD
It's past three in the morning when Selene cracks open the old city tunnels again — her stitched thigh burns with every step, but the pain is a compass.
She slides past rusted pipes, memories echoing: her father's badge under the floorboards, her mother's whispers about monsters in suits.
Her hand drifts to her hip — feather blade, cold as a promise.
Micah's voice scratches in her ear — half static, half grin.
Micah (deadpan, sleepy):
"You know, boss, normal people do shots or watch trash TV at three A.M. — you hunt psychos under the city. You're exhausting, you know that?"
Selene crouches by an old junction box — cracks it open with her blade, pulls out a bug she planted weeks ago. The tape is damp, the battery dead.
She flicks it into the sewage.
Selene (muttering):
"Normal people don't bury monsters. I do."
---
2 — GREER'S PUZZLE
Back in the precinct's frozen archives, Greer's breath ghosts out as she pores over yellowed boxes.
Ward leans against the doorway, jaw tight.
Dr. Greer:
"Old Ashfall records — charity fronts, hush money for the rich. But look — same signatures. Same shell companies. Same goddamn lawyer on every file, ten years apart."
She holds up a page — Ward squints. The logo: UMBRA GROUP — PRIVATE TRUSTS.
Ward's face pales a shade.
Ward:
"Where'd you find that name?"
Greer narrows her eyes — voice like a scalpel.
Dr. Greer:
"Bottom of a drawer Mendoza never bothered to open. Who the hell are they?"
Ward doesn't answer — he turns away, shoulders squared like he's carrying a corpse that's still breathing.
---
3 — MICAH THE NEEDLE
In The Nest's neon glow, Micah leans over a cluster of monitors — lines of code bleed green on black.
He keys through bank transfers, donation logs, encrypted emails. Each click is a wound he picks open.
He sips cold coffee gone sour — mutters to himself:
Micah (low, gleeful):
"Come on, you roaches — show me where you hide your queen."
A line of payments flashes: UMBRA TRUST.
He sits back — exhales a long whistle.
Micah (into the comm):
"Hey boss, you ever heard of the Umbra Group? Because they're the ghost behind the ghosts."
Selene's reply crackles back, breath ragged.
Selene:
"Dig deeper. Feathers only fall if you pull the bone."
Micah taps his screen like he's poking a bruise.
---
4 — THE CROW BENDS THE KNEE
In a private penthouse lined with rotting silks and city maps pinned like skin, King Crow kneels.
Not to his lieutenants. Not to the Flock. To the voice on the other side of the mirror-glass wall — a voice that never shows its face.
A man in a suit — charcoal grey, no tie — steps into the light behind the glass. His eyes are grey and empty.
Umbra Envoy (voice smooth, emotionless):
"You promised Ashfall would burn in manageable pieces. Yet the Raven lives. Talon fell. The street rats talk."
Crow lifts his chin — mask off for once, face gaunt, hair slicked back. Eyes burning with fury and poison.
King Crow:
"She bleeds. We have plans. Phase Two—"
The Envoy cuts him off — one hand raised, delicate as a silk glove.
Umbra Envoy:
"Phase Two is ours. You are a feather we pluck when it rots. Remember that, King Crow."
Crow bites his tongue — blood fills his mouth like pennies. He hates the taste more than the leash.
King Crow (rasps):
"The city will kneel, as promised."
The Envoy tilts his head — birdlike, mirthless.
Umbra Envoy:
"No. The city will pay. You will kneel. The Raven? She's just the storm we feed you to."
The glass flickers dark — Crow alone now, on his knees in a cage made of silk and rot.
He wipes the blood from his lips — laughs once, broken.
King Crow (to the shadows):
"Little Raven — come pluck me. Or die trying."
---
5 — THE RAVEN AND THE WHISPER
Outside, under a tangle of broken street lamps, Selene drags her leg through the rain.
She stands over an old manhole cover — hears the city's heart beating below.
She feels it — that other thing moving. Bigger than Crow. Bigger than the Flock. Older. Hungrier.
She speaks to the dark — to herself, to her father, to the next monster waiting its turn.
Selene (low, raw):
"One more wing. One more kill. One more secret under my claws."
She flicks her feather blade open — slides down the ladder into the city's throat.
---
END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT