Caleb's head throbbed from the nightstick's blow, the cuffs biting into his wrists as the Sargent pinned him against the grimy floor. Blood streaked his face, mixing with sweat, the metallic tang thick in his mouth.
"You thought you could outsmart us," she spat, leaning close so he could feel her breath. "Boss is expecting you to disappear nice and quiet. Guess you didn't get the memo."
Caleb's chest heaved. Every muscle screamed, every nerve burned. His mind was spinning, fraying at the edges. There was no way out—he was trapped, cornered by someone who had law and firepower on her side, someone who had been paid to make sure he never saw the light again.
"You won't get away, Strickland," she whispered into his ear, voice low and cruel. "Try anything, and I swear—"
A deafening crash interrupted her, shattering the grimy window behind her. Black wings exploded into the room, the sound of a thousand caws reverberating off the walls.
The Raven swooped, talons slashing, wings battering the crooked Sargent. She screamed, stumbling backward, trying to protect her face as feathers smacked into her chest. The gun in her hand clattered to the floor.
Caleb felt the sudden gap, a crack in the wall of despair closing in around him. Pain and blood, fear and rage, all coiled together into one sharp spike of clarity. He pulled with every ounce of strength at the cuffs. Pain shot through his wrists, white-hot, but the chain links bent, twisted, and finally broke.
He rolled free, scraping "across the concrete floor, lungs screaming. The Sargent scrambled for her weapon, but the Raven was relentless, cawing and diving again, keeping her off balance.
Caleb got to his feet, running forward with what little momentum he could muster, connecting hard with her shoulder. She cried out, staggered, and Caleb pushed past her.
Through the broken doorway, the alley stretched out in shadow, dark and slick with rainwater. The Raven circled above, guiding, warning. Caleb sprinted, muscles screaming, lungs burning, heart hammering.
Crowe's boots pounded against the wet concrete, gun clutched tightly in her hand as she surged after Caleb. Rain slicked alley walls reflected the flashing red and blue of distant police lights, creating jagged shadows that danced over Caleb's bloodied face. His lungs burned, every step a mix of adrenaline and pain, but his mind was razor-sharp — there was a plan, a single, cold chance to turn this moment to his favor.
He darted behind a dumpster, then spun suddenly, feigning a stumble. Crowe lunged past him, caught off guard, her momentum carrying her against the alley wall. Caleb was on her in an instant. His hand shot up, palm slamming directly into her face with bone-crushing force. A wet, sickening crack echoed as her nose shattered beneath his strike. Blood spurted freely, mixing with the rain, and her scream tore through the alley.
She staggered backward, stunned and reeling, blood streaming down her face and into her mouth. Her gun wobbled, sliding across the wet concrete. Caleb's eyes were wild, teeth gritted, his own blood mingling with hers, every heartbeat screaming the same thing: no mercy.
Caleb's voice was low, grinding like stone. "You've got two choices, Crowe."
Her breathing was ragged, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock and fear. "I… what are you talking about?" she spat.
"Option one," he said, pressing closer, letting her see the deadly intent in his eyes. "You die right here. Simple. Quick. Painful. You'll wish you never saw me."
Crowe's eyes darted wildly. The raw hunger in Caleb's gaze left no room for negotiation.
"Option two," he continued, voice like ice, "you take out your phone. You call Jamal. You lie. You tell him you've got me, and that you want him to meet you at one of his garages. You make him think he's in control. You make him come to me."
Her hands shook violently, fumbling for her phone. Caleb's palm strike had left her nose broken, blood running freely down her face. "Do it. Or option one becomes very real, right now."
Tears mixed with rain on her cheeks as she dialed, voice trembling. She lied to Jamal, whispering through clenched teeth that Caleb was in her custody and that he better be ready to finish what he started.
Caleb stepped back, watching her fear twist into compliance. "East 13th," she mouthed, voice barely audible. "That's where he'll come."
The Raven swooped from above, wings whipping the rain into mist, cawing like a chorus of warnings. Caleb's eyes followed it, then back to Crowe. The world narrowed, leaving only the cold clarity of purpose. This wasn't just survival anymore — this was the first strike, the first real act of revenge.
Caleb shoved her to the ground, sending her sprawling into the rain-slick alley. He didn't wait to see her recover. Each step was heavy, deliberate, leaving blood, sweat, and dark intent in his wake. The city waited for him, Jamal waited for him — and when they met, death would follow.
The Raven circled overhead, cawing insistently, and for the first time that night, Caleb felt that tight, clawing spark of hope — sharp, dangerous, and utterly necessary.
Caleb didn't wait to see Crowe recover from the broken nose. He yanked her roughly to her feet, blood streaming down her face, and pressed the gun against her temple. His voice cut through the chaos of the alley, raw and sharp.
"Back off!" he screamed toward the other cops just down the alley. "Or she dies right here!"
The officers froze, shouting orders to one another, unaware that Crowe was crooked, their own ally now a pawn in Caleb's hands. He shoved her toward her cruiser, forcing her to stumble, tears and blood mixing on her face.
"Move. Or you die!" he barked.
When they reached the car, he yanked the trunk open and shoved her inside. She hit the metal with a wet thud, groaning in pain. Caleb slammed it closed. Outside, the other officers continued shouting, oblivious to the truth — that she was on the Vultures' payroll.
Caleb climbed into the driver's seat, keeping the gun pressed against the trunk where Crowe was trapped. He started the engine, tires screaming against the wet asphalt as he drove into the dark, rain-soaked streets.
Above, the Raven cawed, circling silently. Caleb exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease just slightly. Tonight, the first strike had been made. Jamal would come, and when he did… vengeance would be real.
End of chapter 11.