Chapter 4: The Woman Who Sees Too Much
The video goes viral before dawn.
A suited man, bruised and bloodied, hanging from a construction crane like a warning sign. Police lights flash below. Rain streaks the lens. And strapped to his chest—
CONTRACT TERMINATED
Iris Han pauses the video.
Rewinds.
Plays it again.
"No gang does that," she murmurs. "No amateur either."
She pulls up another screen—files, timestamps, maps. The assassin's face is already circulating online.
SILAS KANE
Private military contractor. Ghost record. Multiple countries. Too clean.
Iris exhales slowly.
"So Crowe sent a professional."
And the Wraith survived.
She zooms out on her city map.
Red dots. Blue lines. Patterns forming like veins.
The Wraith's movements aren't random.
They're defensive.
Predictive.
Military.
Iris's fingers freeze over the keyboard.
"This isn't just a vigilante," she whispers. "This is someone trained to hunt killers."
Across the city, Kael stitches his own wound in a dim bathroom mirror.
No anesthetic.
No hesitation.
The needle goes in.
He doesn't flinch.
His eyes flick to the cracked mirror—just for a second, he sees Lina's reflection behind him.
He squeezes his eyes shut.
"Focus," he mutters.
A soft beep sounds from his comm.
Kael's hand snaps to his pistol.
A voice speaks—filtered, calm.
"I know you're hurt."
Kael's blood runs cold.
Iris sits alone in her apartment, lights off.
She speaks into a mic connected to a scrambled frequency.
"You favor rooftops with blind spots," she continues. "You disable cameras, not destroy them. You avoid civilian casualties even when it costs you."
She pulls up a blurred still frame of Kael mid-fight.
"Ex-military. Special operations. Late thirties."
She pauses.
"And you lost someone."
Silence.
Kael slowly lowers his gun.
"How did you find this channel?" he asks.
Iris allows herself a small breath.
"So you do talk."
The silence stretches.
Rain fills the gap.
Finally, Kael speaks.
"What do you want?"
"The truth," Iris replies. "And to keep you alive."
Kael laughs once—dry, humorless.
"Bad career choice."
Iris swivels her chair, eyes locked on her screen.
"Silas Kane wasn't your endgame," she says. "Crowe is escalating. He'll burn whole blocks to draw you out."
Kael closes his eyes.
"I know."
"Then you need intel," Iris says. "And I need proof."
"Proof of what?"
"That Nocturne is sick," she answers. "And that you're the symptom."
Kael considers shooting the comm.
Instead, he asks, "Why help me?"
Iris hesitates.
"My brother," she says quietly. "He disappeared two years ago. Police said drugs. Gangs said nothing."
She pulls up a photo.
A young man. Familiar alley. Same districts Kael hunts.
"His last signal overlaps your routes."
Kael's jaw tightens.
Crowe's territory.
"I don't work with civilians," Kael says.
"Good," Iris replies. "I don't believe in heroes."
A pause.
Then—
"I'll send you something," she continues. "Crowe's moving weapons through the subway tomorrow night. Heavy. Unregistered."
Kael straightens.
"Why trust me?"
"Because," Iris says, voice steady, "you left that assassin alive."
Kael exhales.
"Send it."
In another part of the city, Detective Elias Thorn stares at the crane footage.
He zooms in.
Freezes the frame.
Something about the Wraith's stance.
The angle.
The timing.
Muscle memory.
Elias's hand trembles.
"No…" he whispers.
Kael receives the file on his HUD.
Routes. Timetables. Names.
Good intel.
Too good.
"You could be setting a trap," Kael says.
"I could," Iris replies. "But I'm not."
A beat.
"Tomorrow night," she adds. "Subway Line 7. Midnight."
Kael pulls his mask back on.
"Then stay off the streets," he says.
"I never do," Iris replies.
The line goes dead.
Kael steps onto the edge of the rooftop.
Below, Nocturne pulses with danger.
For the first time, he isn't alone.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
END OF CHAPTER 4