Parker Robbins had been angry before. He had been furious, vindictive, vengeful, murderous. He had known the sting of betrayal, the weight of bad luck, and the humiliation of being underestimated.
But this—this was something new.
This was panic.
Not the loud panic that made a man shout and break things. No—this was the quiet kind. The kind that settled in the bones like a winter chill, whispering that everything was slipping, bleeding, collapsing.
In the last forty-eight hours, Detective Yuri Watanabe had systematically annihilated seven of his storage sites. Four of his safehouses were raided within the same morning—at the exact minute their guards were rotating. Two weapons shipments were intercepted. A cash stash in Queens burned to the ground after a "mysterious leak" ignited.
Every move he made, someone was already waiting.
Someone was watching.
Someone knew.
And the worst part?
He had no idea who. The NYPD were incompetent, and his sources in there stated that Detective Yuri Watanabe had an informant whom she kept secret.
Madame Masque had vanished—vanished—taking a portion of the emergency funds and the handful of loyalists she'd groomed over the years. He didn't know if she'd defected, fled, or aligned herself with another syndicate. Given her ego, she was probably looking to establish her own kingdom somewhere. Her ambitions were greater than her ability, and Parker always felt he would eventually need to kill her.
Parker rubbed his face with both hands, the Hood's cloak draped around his shoulders like a wounded thing. Even the demonic power inside felt strained, irritated, as if embarrassed to be tethered to a sinking ship.
He slammed his fist onto the desk, "Think, damn it."
But every scenario ended the same way—dead, arrested, hunted, or irrelevant.
He needed an exit. A clean one. A way to disappear before the noose tightened.
And ironically, the perfect opportunity came from a man who had every intention of killing him—the Golem. A low-tier crime boss. Not as smart as Tombstone, not as brutal as Hammerhead, not as wealthy as Kingpin—but viciously territorial and catastrophically prideful.
Parker had hit one of the Golem's diamond shipments last week. Not because he wanted the diamonds. He wanted leverage. He needed someone angry, violent, and predictable. Someone who would absolutely show up if challenged and absolutely bring enough firepower to create a spectacle. The Golem was ideal.
Parker recorded a message and sent it through the channels he knew the Golem still monitored, "I've got your diamonds. Let's do business like gentlemen—fifteen percent finder's fee, and everyone walks away alive."
A blatant lie on every level. The Golem would never let him "walk away alive," Parker wasn't expecting him to.
He just needed the Golem to show up, because the Golem never traveled alone.
He traveled with a small army—and his prized weapon:
Madame Rapier.
Real name Isabelle Chaulet was a ballerina-lean, blade-obsessed assassin with wrists that moved like piano wire and a brain that had been soaked in trauma, discipline, and pure venom. She had killed sixteen men in the last year alone without ever being photographed. She was loyal to no one but the Golem, and even that loyalty was built on money and fear.
Perfect.
Parker needed both a stage and actors. The Golem was bringing both.
Yuri tossed another stack of reports onto her desk. When she'd taken command of this operation, she believed it would be a slow burn—months of infiltration, surveillance, asset flips, and boring paperwork.
Instead?
The Hood's empire was collapsing, or rather imploding like a dying star.
However, everything had happened fast due to one name.
Her second-in-command knocked on the frame of her open door, "Captain, you might want to see this—another anonymous drop, same signature as the last three."
Yuri stiffened.
ShadowStitch.
She opened the message.
Coordinates for a pier located at Coney Island.
Dock numbers.
Time stamps.
A note:
"Final cluster. Clean sweep. The Hood and the Golem will both be there, so prepare yourself."
Her jaw tightened.
This anonymous informant was either a genius, a vigilante, or someone with alarming access to criminal networks.
"Mobilize ESU and Maritime," she said. "This could be big."
She paused, "Where was the Hood's last sighting?"
"Nothing concrete. He's in hiding, maybe preparing something. Well, regardless, if this tip is like the others, we'll find him there, so is there a need to wonder about this?"
She felt it—the prickling intuition she'd developed after years of hunting men like him.
"He's cornered," Yuri murmured. "Cornered animals don't stay still. I doubt this time will be like the others. It's best to prepare for things to go wrong."
She holstered her weapon, "Call the Commissioner. Let him know we might be ending this tonight. Request for additional men and SWAT. Let him know it's urgent, and any delay might let the crime boss escape."
Meanwhile, near the Hood's hideout. The Golem laughed when he received Hood's offer.
It was deep, nasty laughter—the kind that made the men around him share uneasy glances, "So he wants to give me back my own diamonds for a cut of my profit?" Golem growled, pacing. "After he stole them? After he humiliated me? He wants my money? Why doesn't he just ask for my life while he's at it, too?"
Shocker shrugged, "Fifteen percent isn't bad. We get out of this with no bloodshed. Besides, he should be running scared."
Constrictor slapped him upside the head, "It's a trap, genius. Anyone with a brain can see he doesn't mean it. I don't know what he's planning, but only one group will walk away tonight."
Jack O'Lantern floated above them, fire flickering behind the pumpkin-helmet's carved grin, "Who cares? We kill him, we keep the rest. We do get a finder's fee, right?"
The Golem cracked his knuckles, "Rapier."
The tall, blade-thin female assassin stepped forward soundlessly.
"Is the perimeter clear? If so, you know what to do."
She nodded once. No fear, no hesitation. Her eyes gleamed like polished knives.
A kill order was a kiss of affection from her boss.
"We meet him," Golem said, grinning. "And then we bury him. Make sure to retrieve the hood for me."
The Hood's remaining men were frazzled.
Rattled.
Jumpy.
Parker ignored them, finishing the final adjustments to the explosive charges beneath the floor. He wasn't escaping through brute force, by shooting his way out, or with magic.
He was escaping through the intelligence.
Let the NYPD raid his last hideout and find the Golem.
Let the Golem try to kill him to find the NYPD.
Let them tear each other to pieces.
He would vanish through the cracks while tricking the NYPD into believing that one of the Golem's men was the Hood. They had never seen his face, so it was easy enough to get away with it.
He strapped the cloak tight.
"You all know what to do," he told his remaining crew.
They nodded, loyal only because they were too scared not to be. The Hood killed disloyal or useless people, especially after Madame Masque betrayed him.
"Good," he murmured. "Places, gentlemen. The curtain rises."
Back outside after being given orders by the Golem. Madame Rapier sat in silence in the back of the armored van. Her blades rested across her lap in symmetrical perfection.
Her mission was simple:
Kill the Hood.
Leave no body.
Retrieve the diamonds.
Return to the Golem.
She closed her eyes.
She imagined the strike—the perfect angle, the spine severing under steel, the final exhale of a man who never saw her coming—Yes. Tonight would be beautiful.
Arriving right outside the base, the Golem's convoy rolled toward the meet point. Yuri's tactical teams were forming on the perimeter, making sure that when the shit hit the fan, no one could escape.
Madame Rapier sharpened her killing edge.
And Parker Robbins?
He stood inside his final safehouse—which was now a ruined little kingdom, littered with explosives, desperation, and the last fragments of his criminal crown—and smiled.
Because he had just enough left to orchestrate a war. If the NYPD took down the Golem, then the Kingpin would have to respond one way or another.
A war that would mask his hiding spot perfectly.
He smiled as a minion informed him they had arrived, "Let them come."
As all these groups conveyed at this location, none of them realized that there were two extra actors on this stage. Delilah and Madame Masque.