Hunger in the bones

The city groaned in silence. Not the kind that came from peace or stillness, but a silence that clung to the bones, thick with weight and warning. It crawled through alleyways, climbed shattered staircases, and hung in the air like a breath held too long. Ethan stood at the edge of an abandoned parking structure's rooftop, his figure outlined by flickering lights and cold wind. Durham stretched before him, not asleep, but waiting. Sirens pulsed in the distance, blinking without sound, while the streets below flowed like veins beneath cracked skin, carrying unseen threats to corners long abandoned by safety.

In his right hand, he gripped a rusted steel pipe. The weight of it was grounding, cold and absolute. Unlike the fleeting comfort of words or the half-hearted strength of promises, this was something he could trust. It didn't pretend. It didn't falter. It broke what it needed to and held when it had to. That kind of honesty, Ethan had learned, was rare.

The crew had split up again, each of them assigned to watch different slices of their fractured territory. Quiet steps, subtle moves, checking on allies who might have turned silent for too long, and testing the waters for snakes still sleeping in disguise. Bones hadn't made his next move yet. Not loudly. Not obviously. But Ethan felt it growing. It was in the air, thick as oil, slow as a fire that had yet to catch, but would, and soon.

He exhaled through his nose, steady and quiet. The city below might have been broken, but it was his kind of broken. These streets weren't strangers. They had raised him in blood and bruises, betrayed him in silence, and hardened him in ways nothing else could. And now, after all that, they were his to take back.

A voice slid in behind him, firm and calm, but edged with something she was trying to hide.

"You didn't come home last night."

Sierra's words reached him before her footsteps did. He didn't turn around. His eyes remained on the jagged skyline, the concrete puzzle that had shaped them all.

"I couldn't sleep," he answered, voice low.

"That's starting to sound like your new routine."

"Sleep doesn't help," he said after a pause. "Dreams are just lies with prettier colors."

She walked forward until she stood beside him, leaning lightly against the ledge. Her hoodie was zipped high, the sleeves pulled down tight, her arms crossed like a barrier, or maybe a cage. Her jaw was tight, but her gaze stayed soft. She didn't push him. Not yet.

"I know you think you have to hold all of this by yourself," she said finally, her voice quieter now. "But you don't."

Ethan's thumb moved slowly along the pipe's rough edge, feeling each scratch like braille. "If I let go, it all falls apart."

"You say that like we're nothing without you."

"I say it because no one else wants this weight."

She turned to him now, frustration flashing behind her eyes. "We all bleed too, Ethan. You're not the only one who's broken. You're just the one pretending that makes you stronger."

His jaw clenched at that, and a shadow passed across his face. But still, he didn't answer.

She continued, softer but unwavering. "We're still here. Keon. Levi. Jordan. Even Marcus, in his own messed-up way. You brought us back. You pulled us out of the dark. Don't act like we're ghosts again."

His eyes met hers then, and for a moment, something fragile cracked through the fire in him. "Then we better start moving like we aren't."

Before Sierra could say anything else, Ethan's phone vibrated in his jacket. He pulled it out, already knowing it would matter. The message was short, sharp, and enough to change everything.

Levi:

Spotted them. Eastbound. Black Escalade. Bones inside.

Ethan pushed off the ledge like the ground beneath him had shifted. His body moved with purpose.

"Get the others," he said.

Sierra blinked. "Now?"

"If we hesitate, we lose him. And I'm tired of waiting."

In less than ten minutes, they were in position. Five rooftops away, Levi crouched like a shadow with binoculars pressed to his face. His voice crackled through the comms.

"They're parked near the old rec center. Bones went inside. Left two men watching the car."

Ethan adjusted the fingerless gloves on his hands, tightening them at the wrists. His heartbeat was calm, rhythmic. It wasn't fear or excitement. It was focus, a sharpened edge honed from every night he'd spent preparing for this.

"Sierra, take Keon," he said, voice clipped but calm. "Circle north, come through the alley. Jordan, you're with me."

Jordan nodded, crouching low beside him. "What's the call?"

"We watch. We wait. If he breathes wrong, we put him down."

The crew moved like they had rehearsed it for years. Each step held tension, but not hesitation. This wasn't a drill. This wasn't one of those scattered turf disputes they'd grown used to surviving. Bones was within reach. That made everything feel louder. Heavier. Real.

Ethan crouched near a rusted dumpster at the west entrance of the recreation center. The Escalade idled nearby, its engine humming a low warning beneath the silence. Two guards leaned against the front of the car. One had a scar trailing from temple to cheek, his eyes sharp and unfriendly. The other kept adjusting his waistband, touching the grip of a pistol like he didn't quite trust it.

Sierra's voice came through softly. "He's coming out."

Ethan leaned slightly to see better. The door creaked open, and Bones stepped out into the night air like he belonged to it. That same red varsity jacket clung to him, a relic of a past he wore like armor. His buzzed head gleamed faintly under the streetlight. The dead stare was unchanged, but tonight, it looked strained. There was tension in his jaw. Irritation in his movements.

He was annoyed. Uncomfortable. Not as in control as usual.

Ethan's breath caught in his chest, and he held it.

Bones exchanged a few sharp words with his guards, waved them toward the SUV, then climbed into the backseat without another glance, slamming the door shut behind him.

Sierra whispered, "We making a move?"

"Not yet," Ethan murmured. "Let him lead. We follow."

The black SUV pulled away, and the crew followed without fanfare. Sierra and Keon tracked them from the rooftops, fast and silent. Ethan and Jordan shadowed them from the side streets, using alleyways to keep pace without being seen. The route was unfamiliar. No usual haunts. No known safehouses. Bones wasn't retreating. He was heading somewhere new.

Ten minutes passed in tense silence. Then the SUV slowed and came to a stop near the edge of an industrial block, where warehouses loomed like sleeping beasts. Most were condemned. Some hadn't seen use in years. The air smelled of rusted metal, dust, and oil long spilled and forgotten.

Bones stepped out of the vehicle. Alone.

Jordan narrowed his eyes. "He's meeting someone."

From the far end of the alley, another figure emerged. He wore a long grey coat, his steps deliberate. No visible ink. No obvious gang affiliation. But everything about his presence spoke of control. His hands were in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, as though the world around him owed him no threat.

Jordan's voice dropped. "Who the hell is that?"

"Someone Bones answers to," Ethan replied. The realization made his stomach twist.

They watched the two men speak. No raised voices. No posturing. Just low words, exchanged evenly. After a minute, the man in the coat handed Bones a thick folder. Ethan's pulse quickened. Whatever was inside mattered. A lot.

Ethan's fists tightened. "We need eyes on that."

Jordan shook his head. "We're too far. If we move now, we blow it."

Sierra's voice cut in, steady. "I'm on it. Got a lens in range. Give me ten."

Ethan waited, silent, counting the beats of his heart instead of the seconds. Each thud echoed with the weight of what could come next.

Then her voice returned. Quieter now.

"It's a hit list."

Ethan's body went still.

Jordan leaned in. "Names?"

"There are four," Sierra said. "Ethan. Jordan. Marcus. Levi."

Jordan let out a slow breath, then muttered, "That's not fear tactics. That's an execution plan."

Ethan took a step back from the dumpster, his breathing measured. "He's not chasing us. He's organizing around us. This isn't reaction. It's preparation."

Jordan nodded, hand brushing the hilt of his blade. "So what now?"

Ethan stared down the alley. Past the SUV. Past the warehouse. Past Bones and the stranger who controlled him. Every muscle in his body buzzed with fire. The ache in his bones wasn't just old scars anymore. It was hunger. Not for survival, but for something more. To dismantle what had been built on their pain. To erase the name that had almost erased them. To take back everything that had been taken, piece by piece, with fire and steel.

He didn't say the word.

He moved.

And they followed.