Midnight.
The city's heartbeat slows — but Selene's doesn't. She stands above The Nest's cluttered war table, wires and maps and drone parts scattered like old bones.
Micah hunches over his laptop, chewing on a half-dead pen. The neon glow makes the bruise under Selene's jaw look worse than it is.
> "Ward's combing your alley," he mutters. "He's got partial prints from the rooftop pipe you braced against. One stray feather in evidence lockup. He's not stupid — stubborn old bastard might get lucky."
Selene doesn't flinch. She's too tired to pretend she's invincible tonight.
> "If he wants my name, let him come knock."
Micah's eyes flick up — voice unusually quiet.
> "He will, Selene. And what then? Invite him in for tea and a stabbing?"
He tries for a smile, but it falters. "I'm not losing you to a badge and a prison cell."
---
Two Hours Earlier
The city news runs raw footage from a hidden cam. A break-in. An arson attempt at a safe house The Raven once raided — The Flock's way of sending a love letter.
A voiceover crackles: "King Crow claims responsibility for the bombing. Says this is just the beginning. No one hides from The Flock — not even The Raven's nest."
Selene watches the smoke flicker on the feed. In her chest, something old and furious coils tighter.
---
Morning — The Morgue
Daylight cuts at her eyes like a blade. Jess finds her bent over a body — stitching Y-incisions with hands that tremble just enough to betray her mask.
> "Selene. You okay?"
She doesn't look up. "Long night."
Jess crosses her arms. "You said you'd rest. You didn't."
"Can we not—?"
Jess bites her tongue. The silence says more than the words could: I know you're lying. I'm scared for you. I won't push — yet.
---
Detective Ward
Ward sits in a parked sedan two blocks from Selene's building — a worn manila file in his lap. Inside: grainy photos, timestamps, a scrap of hospital paperwork with a name circled twice: Selene Arlen.
He lights a cigarette — the first in months. Takes one drag. Tosses it. His reflection in the rearview looks like a man trying to convince himself he won't ruin another life tonight.
---
Evening — The Nest
Micah paces — pacing means trouble. His phone glows with intercepted chatter: The Flock's code words. The chatter overlaps with a ping from inside their safe feeds.
> "We've got a rat," Micah snaps. "One of my network boys flipped. Or got bought. Or got scared."
Selene's talons click on the workbench. "Who?"
He throws up his hands. "Don't know yet — but they know where we are. They know you. They know me."
The Nest has always been untouchable — abandoned dockyard, tunnels, blind spots even the city's drones can't sniff. But the word always is a lie.
Selene wipes a blood smear off her gauntlet. Her voice is quiet enough to chill him.
> "Find the rat. Shut it down."
Micah nods — but his eyes dart everywhere now. No place is safe if trust dies first.
---
The Betrayal
It happens fast — a message, buried in The Flock's chatter. Micah almost misses it. But he freezes mid-rant — squinting at a screen full of green static.
A single line: "The Raven's feathers molt inside The Nest."
A trap? A taunt? A fact?
Before they can move, the back wall of The Nest rattles — old rusted panels forced open. Figures in blackout gear slide through the breach — Flock operatives, crow masks painted fresh, knives gleaming like teeth.
---
The Fight
Selene lunges — no cloak now, no rooftop shadows. Just steel on concrete, feathers in tight quarters.
Micah dives behind his console, hotwiring drones to divebomb intruders. Sparks spit from the ceiling as bullets shred old lockers.
Selene slams one man's face into a steel beam — spins, disarms another, snaps his wrist so the blade clatters to the floor. Another charges — too close — she catches his throat in her gauntlet's talons.
Micah's voice: half scream, half cackle. "Next time — next time we get a bunker under a church!"
---
The fight ends in blood and breath and silence. Four bodies in black lie sprawled. One escapes — out the breach, vanishing into the dockyard's corpse. Gone to whisper what he's seen.
---
The Aftermath
Micah stands shaking — his sarcasm leaking out like steam from cracked pipes.
> "They came here, Selene. Here. It's not just rooftops anymore. They want your mask, your name, your head mounted over Crow's throne."
Selene sits on the ground, cloak torn, blood streaking her temple. She can't speak. She wants to laugh. Or cry. Or sleep for a hundred years.
She does none of those.
Instead, she stands — wings ragged, talons dripping — and says the only truth she has left:
> "If The Nest can bleed, so can The Flock."
---
Elsewhere
Detective Ward reads the name Selene Arlen for the fiftieth time. He clips it to the murder board — lines it up with the Raven's feathers. He whispers to the empty air: "I see you now, little bird."
---
Somewhere far above the city, King Crow watches the chessboard — and flicks another pawn forward.
The game is wide open. The mask is cracking.
And tomorrow, the wings must fly again.
---
END OF CHAPTER EIGHT