Ashfall's sky bled neon and oil. Somewhere behind the drizzle and the skyscrapers, The Herald's face flickered to life on every screen — every cheap TV behind every cracked bar counter.
A mask of polished white porcelain, eyes black voids — the mouth a painted smile.
The voice, velvet static that crawled under skin:
"My city. Our city. Order must rise from the ashes. Those who sow chaos — the Raven, the so-called vigilantes — they are weeds. And weeds burn."
Selene Kain stood in the shadows of an abandoned subway entrance, eyes fixed on the flickering screen above a newsstand. The people gathered below — umbrellas like dead crows — stared up, faces pale in the flickering light.
Her gloved fist tightened. Weeds.
Umbra was good at lies wrapped in velvet.
---
Deep under Dockside, Micah Torres hunched in his basement kingdom, the ghost of his mother's smile pinned above the rattling fans. A half-eaten sandwich lay forgotten beside three cracked keyboards.
The data bled out of Ashfall's veins, Micah's eyes flicking line by line.
A name. An address.
An old industrial lab near Ironhaven's freight line. Umbra's "Project Minotaur."
The Bull King hadn't escaped.
He'd been released.
Micah clicked his tongue. "Raven — you're walking into a slaughter pen."
He reached for the burner phone, voice low into the encrypted line.
"You better not die tonight, Bird."
---
Selene's boots splashed through puddles as she crossed the rusted train yard. Freight cars groaned like tombs — graffiti ghosts and rust scars.
Inside the old lab, the stink of bleach and old blood crawled up her nose. A flicker of movement — rats. Not the human kind.
She crouched at a locked cage — thick bars twisted open like tinfoil. Tufts of coarse hair. Claw marks deep enough to gouge concrete.
The Bull King's cage.
A note on the wall — scrawled in grease pencil: "Run. Feed. Bleed."
She didn't flinch. Monsters made cages. But monsters didn't stay in them.
Her earpiece hissed. Micah's voice — tense. "Your boyfriend the Minotaur has a friend. Thermal drones picked up heat in the slaughterhouse four blocks west."
She murmured, "Not alone then."
---
In the Ashfall PD squad room, Navarro dropped a folder on Iris's desk so hard her cold coffee jumped.
"Captain wants us to stand down. Says we push this Silas raid, we get reassigned to traffic."
Iris ran a hand through her hair, eyes flicking to the cheap clock on the wall. Maya Cadee's drawing of the Raven peeked from her purse — crayon feathers and a mask with big, bright eyes.
Her throat tightened. "Voss knows we're close. That's why he wants us cold."
Navarro leaned in. "Your husband's name is buried in these financials. Slush funds. Non-profits tied to Umbra. You know what this means, Calder?"
She swallowed. "It means if I tug this thread, my family comes apart."
Navarro's voice softened. "You don't have to be a hero, Iris."
Her laugh was dry, cracked. "We don't get to choose. This city chooses for us."
---
Nathan Calder sat alone in the kitchen that night, fingers tracing the rim of an untouched whiskey glass.
Liam watched from the hall — silent as dust.
He heard the whisper from the burner phone tucked into the drawer. "Contain her. Or she'll bury you all with her."
Nathan's shoulders sagged. His boy's drawing of the Raven hung on the fridge, magnetic letters spelling "HERO."
Liam retreated to his room, pencil scratching furiously.
The Raven saves everyone.
His father's secrets didn't fit that story.
So he drew her bigger — wings spread wide enough to hide his family under them.
---
Rowan Pierce tapped her keyboard in the newsroom's last row — a fortress of flickering monitors and stale coffee.
The headline on her screen:
"Dockside Slaughterhouse: Umbra's Blood Trail."
She shouldn't file it. Not yet.
But Faceless Kane's stitches haunted her nightmares. The Raven's eyes — cold mercy.
Rowan hit "Send" with a finger that trembled.
Evan Holt, the field reporter, leaned over her cubicle wall. "You just lit a match in a fireworks factory, Pierce."
She smirked. "Good. Let it burn."
Outside the newsroom window, Ash TV's Director Marcus Fenn watched from a tinted car — phone to his ear.
"Yes, Whisper. She's gone rogue. I'll handle her."
---
Camilla DuPont's basement smelled of antiseptic and cheap air freshener. The hidden medic hunched over Selene's shoulder, tweezers digging out glass shards from the last dockside scuffle.
Camilla's voice was rough silk. "You know, normal people just… quit. When the world tries to kill them."
Selene didn't flinch. Her breath hissed through her teeth. "Normal people don't bury my father."
Camilla paused. "You still see his face?"
Selene's eyes opened — distant, dead calm. "I see his killers."
Camilla wanted to curse her, scream, throw the tray of scalpels at the wall. Instead she stitched her shut, sealing secrets between them.
---
The slaughterhouse door groaned under Selene's boot. Rust, bone dust, and the stench of something still alive.
The Bull King's bellow rumbled through meat hooks and blood gutters. A wall shuddered — steel bars bending like reeds.
She slipped through the shadows — knives ready.
A whisper in her earpiece — Micah's voice hoarse. "Get out, Raven. He's bait. Umbra's eyes are everywhere."
She ignored him. Eyes narrowed at the monster ahead — massive shoulders hunched over a torn carcass that used to be a guard dog.
The Bull King turned. Steam puffed from nostrils like twin pistons. Yellow eyes met hers — dull, primal, hate-filled.
His horns scraped the ceiling as he lumbered closer.
No more cages. No more lab coats. Just muscle and slaughter.
---
Iris and Navarro's unmarked cruiser screeched to a halt two blocks out. They stepped into the night — no warrant, no backup, just gut instinct.
Navarro gripped his service piece. "This is insane, Calder."
She checked her watch, breath visible in the night air. "I can't stay behind my desk anymore."
Behind them, Nathan Calder sat in his car, headlights off — eyes locked on the slaughterhouse door. His secrets, his wife, his kids — everything tangled in the same barbed wire.
---
Inside, the Bull King charged.
Selene moved like black lightning — cloak trailing blood and shadows. She ducked the first swing — a rusted hook crushed concrete where her head had been.
She rolled under the beast's shoulder — slammed her blade into the exposed sinew behind his knee. He roared — backhanded her into a steel pillar that shrieked on impact.
Dust rained down. She coughed blood, wiped it on her sleeve.
One more monster.
She dodged another charge — slashed at the tendons at his side. He bellowed — the sound shook the rafters.
Outside, Iris heard it — the echo of something primal. Navarro swore under his breath.
They shared a look — badge and gun against monsters they didn't even believe in until tonight.
---
Inside, Selene ducked — pivoted — stabbed upward. The blade slid under the Bull King's ribs — found something soft enough to hurt.
His roar died into a choking gasp — he swung wide, caught her shoulder. The world spun. Her blade clattered across the floor.
They stared at each other — two predators, neither willing to back down.
---
In the dark above, hidden eyes watched — The Herald's private feed. Umbra's chain coiling tighter.
This was the price of defiance.
This was Ashfall's inheritance.
---
And in a bedroom across the city, Liam Calder's pencil drew wings wide enough to smother every monster alive.
---
END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO