Chapter 8: The Raven’s Claw
Night in Lancaster never truly sleeps.It simply waits—behind corners, above rooftops, beneath breaths.
And tonight, something was hunting.
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District 9 – 1:33 AM
Alex Virell moved like a shadow through the alleyways near the old shipping yards. The Syndicate had pulled back after their failed attack—but that wasn't peace.
It was silence before a sniper's breath.
He was checking the perimeter alone. No men. No backup. That's how he preferred it.
Then he felt it.
A pause in the air.A shift in the rhythm of the wind.That ancient instinct whispering: You're being watched.
He turned.
Nothing.
He stepped forward—
A whistle.
Alex ducked, the throwing blade missing his eye by inches, embedding into the brick wall behind him with surgical precision.
"Still sharp," came a voice from the rooftop.
A figure landed behind him—graceful, silent, deadly.
Dressed in matte black armor, no insignia, only a thin silver bird stitched over the heart.
A raven.
Alex's eyes narrowed. His tone stayed calm. "Didn't think any of you survived."
The assassin said nothing. Just pulled a curved blade from his back.
The Raven's Claw.Elite assassins trained to erase names from history.Loyal to no flag. No nation. Only to contracts and silence.
They had been at the estate fire, thirteen years ago. Cleaning up the Virell name.
And now… they had returned.
The fight began without warning.
Steel clashed in the narrow alley, sparks spraying with every parry. Alex moved with brutal precision—efficient, sharp, practiced.
But the Raven moved like wind through bone.
Kicks. Feints. Feathers of death.
Blood sprayed—Alex's shoulder slashed open.
He didn't falter. He adapted.
He ducked under a sweep, grabbed a broken pipe, and jammed it upward—into the Raven's ribs.
The assassin staggered back, breathing hard. For the first time, he spoke.
"You weren't supposed to survive that night."
Alex stood straighter, blood dripping down his arm.
"You failed once. You're about to again."
The Raven smiled beneath his mask. "No. I only came to deliver a message."
He tossed something from his belt.
Alex caught it.
A black feather, etched with crimson ink.
A sigil—burned into the shaft.
Alex's eyes went cold. He knew what it meant.
A contract. A personal one. Not from the Syndicate. Not from the Thornes.This was a blood marker. Someone from the past had reactivated the hunt.
"Who gave this order?" Alex demanded.
The Raven vanished into the darkness, only his voice remaining.
"The one who watched your estate burn… from the inside."
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Elsewhere – That Same Night
Lia Virell stared down from her high-rise penthouse, the lights of Lancaster glimmering beneath her heels.
Her phone buzzed.
Alex.
"I was attacked. Raven's Claw. We were marked again."
She went still. Her wine glass stopped at her lips.
Then another message.
"They were watching the fire. Not enemies. Not outsiders. One of ours."
Lia's breath caught. Her voice, quiet:
"…It was someone inside the family."
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Unknown Location – Underground Citadel
The Raven knelt before a massive digital screen.
On it: two faces. Alex and Lia. A red cross now painted over each.
A voice crackled through the dark, cold and commanding:
"The Virells are unfinished business.Clean the bloodline.Or bleed in their place."
The screen faded.
The hunt had begun.
And in Lancaster, death now wore feathers.