Rain poured over Black Hollow as though the city itself wept. Thunder groaned like a beast in pain, and every crack of lightning painted the war-scarred skyline in fleeting flashes of bone-white light. Draven moved like a shadow through the drenched streets, cloak heavy with blood and water, eyes locked on the flickering signal from Evelyn's tracker.
She was gone.
Snatched during the chaos Pulse unleashed in the last assault—an ambush meant to gut them both. Derek was recovering, bruised ribs and a shattered will. Nyx had vanished into the underworld for recon, but time was slipping through Draven's fists like ash.
He descended into the sewers beneath the East End, chasing a trail only he could follow. Not just the trail of bootprints or splattered blood—but something deeper. Fear. Regret. Guilt. Evelyn's last scream before the comms died haunted him like the ghost of his own failure.
And he'd failed before. He wouldn't again.
Somewhere Below the City – Abandoned Substation
Evelyn sat chained to rusted piping, her lip split, her wrists raw. The hum of broken generators filled the darkness around her. A single bulb swayed from the ceiling, casting a pale, sickly glow over the concrete tomb. Across from her stood Pulse, his helmet retracted, revealing a jaw scarred by molten steel and eyes that flickered with static malice.
"You're just bait," he said, crouching beside her. "The knight thinks you matter. We'll see how far he bleeds for a woman he can't save."
Evelyn met his gaze. "He's not coming for me. He's coming for all of you."
Pulse chuckled. "Romantic. Let's see how long that lasts when I burn out your vocal cords."
But the lights flickered then, and with them came silence—unnatural silence.
Pulse's head snapped toward the far wall.
Too late.
The concrete ruptured as Draven burst through it in a hail of dust and fury, cloak flowing, blades drawn. He struck like vengeance itself—an uppercut of steel sending Pulse skidding back into a control panel. Sparks exploded. Evelyn's restraints shattered under a throwing blade as Draven reached her.
"You alright?" he asked, voice low, eyes scanning her injuries.
"Never better," she muttered through gritted teeth.
Pulse roared, recovering fast, his gauntlets crackling with lethal current. "You always ruin my parties, knight."
Draven shoved Evelyn behind him. "Stay low."
The room turned into a warzone.
Pulse hurled a blast of pure electricity. Draven dove, rolled, sprang up to slam a boot into the villain's chest. Pulse retaliated with a charged elbow, sending Draven crashing into the far wall. Evelyn scrambled for cover, grabbing a loose pipe.
"Gonna fry you alive!" Pulse bellowed, hurling another bolt.
Draven, bruised but burning with purpose, darted forward and struck low, slicing one of the villain's power conduits. Sparks exploded. Pulse howled and grabbed Draven by the throat, lifting him off the ground.
"You'll die like all the rest."
But Evelyn was already behind him, pipe swinging.
Crack.
The impact disrupted Pulse's balance. Draven tore free and plunged a blade into his shoulder, then drove his knee into the villain's face.
Pulse reeled, blood mixing with static.
"I'll find you both again," he growled before smashing a failsafe on his gauntlet. The wall behind him exploded, revealing a maintenance shaft. He vanished in a burst of smoke and sparking tech, a beast retreating to its lair.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Minutes Later – Rooftop Above the Substation
The rain hadn't stopped.
Evelyn stood at the edge, breathless, staring out over the city like it could offer her some answer—why the pain never stopped, why the world cracked but kept turning.
Draven approached her slowly. His cloak was torn, armor chipped. The rain slid off his cowl in steady streams.
"You came," she said, not looking back.
"I will always come," he replied.
She turned to face him. Her eyes were tired but lit with something stronger. "You risked everything for me."
"You're not a part of this mission anymore," he said. "You're part of me."
The silence stretched between them—thick, raw, and electric.
"I don't want to be just another person you bury," she whispered.
"You won't be," Draven said, stepping closer. "Not if I can help it."
His gloved hand reached out, hesitated, then cupped her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut under his touch. He removed the cowl, revealing the man beneath the symbol. For the first time, Evelyn saw the face that carried so much pain—scarred, yes, but not broken. Not with her.
"I'm tired of losing people," he said softly. "And I don't want to lose you."
"You don't have to say it," she said, voice shaking. "Just… show me."
And he did.
Their lips met in the rain.
It wasn't perfect—nothing in their world was—but it was real. It was a tether in the storm, a promise in the ruins.
When they parted, she rested her forehead against his.
"We're not just surviving anymore," she said.
"No," he replied. "We're fighting. Together."
Later That Night – Nyx's Safehouse
Derek stared at the bloodied armor Draven discarded. His knuckles were white around a pistol. "We're not winning, are we?"
Draven sat beside Evelyn on the bench. She was patching his wounds with practiced hands.
"We will," Draven said. "But we need allies. And we need to draw them out."
Nyx entered then, tossing a dossier on the table. "I have something. Not Pulse. Something worse."
She flipped it open.
Photographs. Files. A name.
Cassian Vale. An ex-military strategist turned underworld tactician. A master of manipulation. A phantom with ties to Black Sun.
"He's moving shipments," Nyx said. "Not Halcyon. Something newer. He's recruiting rogue scientists. This is your next nightmare."
Draven's eyes darkened. "Then we hunt him."
"And Pulse?" Evelyn asked.
Draven met her gaze. "He'll come back. Stronger. Meaner."
Nyx nodded. "We better be ready."
Meanwhile – Unknown Location
In a chamber lined with television screens, laughter echoed.
The Harbinger stood watching footage of Pulse's defeat. But the laughter wasn't his.
It came from the far corner.
The figure in shadow sat still, face half-lit by a monitor.
A slow clap echoed.
"Well done, Harbinger," the voice rasped. "But let them think they're winning. Let the knight love his little bird."
The screen zoomed in on Draven and Evelyn kissing in the rain.
"Hope is the sweetest poison."
The Harbinger bowed. "Shall I proceed, Joker?"
The figure leaned forward. The grin was unmistakable now.
"No," Joker whispered. "Let them dance a little longer. The tragedy writes itself."