Raven's POV
Raven reaches Lincoln Park at 11:43 PM.
The north bench sits empty under a broken streetlight, surrounded by shadows that seem to breathe. Every instinct screams at her to run. This is how people die in movies—alone, desperate, meeting strangers in dark parks.
But she's already dead. Marcus and Scarlett made sure of that.
She sits on the cold bench and waits.
At exactly midnight, footsteps crunch on gravel. A man emerges from the darkness—late fifties, grey hair, tired eyes that have seen too much. He wears jeans and a worn jacket, nothing like a cop.
"Detective Blackwell." He sits beside her, keeping distance between them. "I'm James Morrison. Thank you for coming."
"You said you could prove my innocence." Raven's voice is hollow. "How?"
"Because I know who framed you. And why." Morrison pulls out a folder, hands shaking slightly. "Three months ago, I was investigating a series of bribes in the police department. Money flowing from wealthy criminals to specific detectives who made evidence disappear. Your fiancé Marcus Chen was one of them."
Raven's fists clench. "I found his offshore accounts two weeks ago. That's when—"
"That's when he destroyed you first," Morrison finishes. "He had your sister Scarlett seduce him months earlier, setting up the affair as leverage. When you got too close to his operation, they activated their plan. The evidence against you was fabricated by Marcus, validated by Scarlett's testimony, and approved by people higher up the chain."
"How high?"
Morrison's jaw tightens. "Commissioner Richard Voss himself."
The name hits like a punch. Commissioner Voss—the most powerful man in Chicago PD. War hero. Reformer. The face of justice in the city.
"That's impossible," Raven whispers.
"Voss has been running a protection racket for fifteen years. Rich criminals pay him millions, he makes sure they walk free. Marcus was his inside man. You were getting close to exposing the whole network." Morrison slides the folder toward her. "These are copies of financial records, encrypted emails, witness statements. Proof that you were framed. Proof that Voss is dirty."
Raven opens the folder with trembling hands. Bank transfers. Coded messages. Photos of Marcus meeting with known criminals. Her throat tightens with rage and vindication.
"Why are you helping me?" she asks.
"Because Voss destroyed my career too when I got too close five years ago. He buried me with a fake sexual harassment case, forced me into early retirement, made sure no one would believe anything I said." Morrison's voice cracks with old pain. "I've been investigating him ever since, waiting for the right moment. The right ally."
"And I'm that ally?"
"You're more than that. You're someone with nothing to lose and everything to gain. Someone hungry enough to help me bring down the whole corrupt system." He leans closer. "But here's the thing, Raven—I can't do this through official channels. Voss controls the police, the media, even some judges. To expose him, we need to go outside the law."
Raven's heart pounds. "What are you asking me to do?"
"Have you heard of the Reaper?"
The question freezes her blood. "The serial killer? The one carving 'R' into victims?"
"Not a serial killer. A vigilante." Morrison's eyes gleam in the darkness. "Every single Reaper victim was a criminal who escaped justice through Voss's network. The CEO who poisoned water? Paid Voss three million. The judge who freed child rapists? On Voss's payroll. Someone is executing the people the law protects."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"I think I know who the Reaper is. And I think we can use him to destroy Voss." Morrison pulls out another photo—a professional headshot of a devastatingly handsome man with steel-blue eyes. "Dante Ashford. Billionaire CEO. His family was murdered twenty years ago by a mob boss named Vincent Moretti. Moretti paid Voss to make the case disappear. He walked free."
Raven stares at the photo. Something about those eyes feels familiar.
"Dante has the motive, the resources, and the skills to be the Reaper," Morrison continues. "But I can't prove it. I need someone to get close to him. Someone he won't suspect. Someone who can find evidence while I work on exposing Voss through other channels."
"You want me to spy on a serial killer."
"I want you to catch him—and use what we find to leverage Voss into confessing everything. Dante's victims are all connected to Voss. If we can prove Dante is the Reaper and prove all his victims were part of Voss's network, we create a scandal so massive the whole corrupt system collapses."
"This is insane."
"This is justice." Morrison stands. "I've already arranged for Dante to meet you. Tomorrow night, there's a charity gala for crime victims at the Regency Hotel. Dante will be there. I got you an invitation under a fake identity—security consultant named Raven Black. Make contact. Get hired. Get close enough to find proof."
"And if he realizes what I'm doing? If he's actually a killer who—"
"Then you'll be careful. You're a trained detective, Raven. One of the best I've ever seen." His voice softens. "I'm giving you a chance to clear your name, destroy the people who hurt you, and bring down the most corrupt man in Chicago. Or you can walk away right now and spend the rest of your life as a disgraced cop who everyone thinks is dirty."
Raven looks at Dante's photo again. Those cold, beautiful eyes.
"If I do this and it goes wrong—"
"It won't. I'll be watching your back the whole time." Morrison squeezes her shoulder. "You're not alone anymore, Raven. Say yes, and we start your redemption tomorrow."
She should say no. Should run. Should find a normal life somewhere far from Chicago and serial killers and corrupt commissioners.
But Marcus's face flashes in her mind. Scarlett's fake tears. Her mother's text refusing to believe her. The cameras. The shame. The rage.
"Yes," Raven says. "I'll do it."
Morrison smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Good. The gala starts at eight PM. Dress professionally. Be confident. Dante responds well to strength." He hands her a burner phone. "This is how we communicate. Never use your real phone. Never tell anyone what you're doing. Trust no one."
He walks away, disappearing into shadows.
Raven sits alone on the bench, clutching the folder and the phone. Tomorrow she'll meet a man who might be a vigilante killer. She'll lie to him, investigate him, try to catch him.
And somewhere in all of this, she'll get revenge on everyone who destroyed her.
She stands to leave when her new burner phone buzzes. One text from an unknown number:
Welcome to the hunt, little bird. But be careful—the Reaper isn't the only predator watching you. Some monsters wear badges. Some wear crowns. And some have been waiting years for someone exactly like you to stumble into their web. Sleep well. Tomorrow, your real education begins.
Raven spins around, searching the darkness.
The park is empty.
But she feels eyes on her—hungry and patient and deadly.
She runs.