The city sleeps with one eye open. Selene knows this as she crouches on a rusted crane above the East Docks — rain dripping from the edges of her winged cloak. Below, the pier groans under the weight of trucks, crates, broken promises.
Through her earpiece, Micah's voice is static and sarcasm.
> "Cargo truck just pulled up. That's your guy — see the neck tattoo? Crow ink. Not subtle."
Selene adjusts the thermal scope strapped to her mask. A ghostly red shape. Two, three, four men. Weapons cradled like babies in the dark. A container creaks open — the dull thud of duffel bags hitting wet wood.
She flexes her gloved hands. The talon blades are cold reassurance against her palms. In her ribs, her father's ghost beats like a second heart.
Micah's voice drops, all the humor gone.
> "Selene. This is real. First time's the roughest. If it goes bad—"
> "Then it goes bad," she whispers. She flicks the comm off before he can say don't do it.
---
She moves.
Silent as rainwater down corrugated steel.
The cloak unfolds behind her — dark wings against darker sky. She drops from the crane to the roof of a shipping container, landing in a crouch. No one hears her over the ocean's hush and the drunken laughter of men who think the city belongs to them.
She slides down, boots splashing into a puddle beside a rusted forklift. One man peels off from the group to piss against a wall. Easy pickings.
She shadows him. Steps in close. One talon flick — the blade kisses the side of his throat, silences him mid-breath. She drags him behind a stack of crates. No noise but his boots scraping concrete.
Her breath fogs her visor. Her pulse is an earthquake in her chest.
---
Closer.
She circles wide — sees the main deal going down. A skinny lieutenant barking orders. A cash drop. Weapons swapped for envelopes. One of them — big guy, neck tattoo — turns, eyes scanning the shadows. He senses something. Not enough.
She moves again — a black feather in the dark.
But she's too slow. A boot scuffs a tin can. The echo betrays her. The big guy's head snaps up.
> "The hell—? Who's there!"
A flashlight beam cuts the night — hits her eyes. She curses, vaults over crates. Bullets bark after her — deafening in the steel maze. Sparks bloom off containers. She rolls, comes up in a crouch behind cover. Her breath is ragged. This isn't how it went in her head.
She peeks — counts three armed. One watching the loot. Two circling wide. She needs to move. She needs to—
A shout. A muzzle flash. A bullet punches through the crate — clips her shoulder. She bites back a scream. Warm blood runs down her ribs under the armored suit.
---
It's supposed to hurt.
Her father's voice, or maybe her own.
She lunges from cover — talons ready. She slams into the first gunman — the blade rakes his forearm, weapon clatters away. She pivots, drives her elbow into his throat. He gurgles, drops.
The second comes at her swinging a crowbar. She blocks with the gauntlet — pain blooms as steel meets bone. She kicks him in the knee — hears the pop. He goes down, howling.
She turns for the leader — but he's already running. Cash forgotten. Truck roaring to life. He's out — a ghost in the storm, tires shrieking as he vanishes into the city's veins.
She's too slow. Again. She stands there panting, shoulder screaming, the taste of failure sour on her tongue.
---
Micah's voice crackles back in her ear. She'd turned him off — he hacked back in.
> "Selene? Talk to me."
She staggers to the pier's edge, rain soaking through her mask. She watches the truck's tail lights melt into the city glow.
> "They're gone."
"Yeah. But so are some of them. Not bad for a rookie ghost, huh?"
"Not good enough."
She opens her fist. Three black feathers — soaked in someone's blood — flutter from her palm into the churning waves below.
---
Above her, security cams catch a flicker of her silhouette.
A cloak that looks like wings.
A shadow that looks like something the city made up to scare itself awake.
Tomorrow, there will be headlines.
Whispers in bars.
Drunken debates in alleyways: Who is she? What is she?
Tonight, the city learns to fear its own shadows.
And Selene Arlen — the Black Raven — learns how much she still has to lose.
---
END OF CHAPTER TWO