Chapter 53 Smoke & Lead

“Before I go,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “I want to ask something.”

“What is it?”

I stared at him, my eyes hard. “Do you know what happened to Royal? The Pride thinks I have something to do with it.”

His lips curled in amusement, the kind that never quite reached his eyes. “Did you have something to do with it?”

I scoffed and leaned back in my chair. “That sounds like a no. Why? Does it irate you, knowing someone else got to him first?”

Crow only smiled.

We left Estrella Alta without another word, stepping into the cool night air that wrapped around the skyscraper’s polished steel like a second skin. The black limo was waiting just outside the entrance, idling quietly, and the same man in the tailored suit and dark shades stood next to it, bowing slightly as if nothing awkward had just happened a hundred floors above.

I didn’t feel like indulging Crow’s courtesy anymore. The driver opened his mouth to say something polite, probably some trite farewell from his boss, but my fist connected with his face before he could get the words out.

The impact was sharp and satisfying. His head jerked back, shades flying off as he stumbled and hit the pavement with a grunt.

“Idiot,” I muttered, shaking the sting from my knuckles.

I kicked him in the shin for good measure, a petty motion fueled by frustration more than anger. The man yelped, curling in on himself, and I thought about Crow again, about his smug smile, about how he’d spoken to me like he owned every inch of the ground I walked on. Punching the driver wasn’t justice. It wasn’t even close, but it was something, and I knew Crow wouldn’t care. Hell, he might even find it funny.

The driver groaned on the pavement, hands over his face, mumbling something between whimpers. I ignored him, grabbed the keys like I’d owned them all along, and opened the limo door.

“Come on,” I said.

Silver slid in wordlessly, her pale hair catching the dim streetlight as I followed her inside. The door shut with a solid click, and for a moment, the city outside was just a blur of distant noise and glowing lights, while the engine purred beneath us.

Finally, I drove.

The city lights streaked past as I gripped the wheel tighter.

Silver sat in the passenger seat, knees pulled up. “What’s the problem?” she asked, her tone soft but edged with worry.

I let out a sharp breath through my nose, staring straight ahead at the empty road. “So far,” I said, my voice flat, “shitty, but manageable.”

Just like that, Silver was gone. Onyx’s dark hair and sharper presence took her place, her glare drilling into me like a knife. “Manageable!?” she exclaimed, practically spitting the word. “That’s what you’re calling this? Silver, it’s my turn today, don’t steal my turn!”

I ignored her outburst and slowed the limo, pulling it up near the curb. Without saying a word, I rolled down the window. The night air hit my face, cool and sharp. I slipped the ring from my middle finger, the same simple band with the engraved “M” — or “W,” depending on how you looked at it. My thumb ran over the worn edges one last time before I flicked my wrist and hurled it into the dark, the ring vanishing somewhere into the gutter, swallowed by Markend.

My trophy, my reminder of Sunstrider, the first cape I’d killed, and the one that had put my name, Eclipse, into every whisper and warning across the city. Gone, just like that.

Considering how perfect Crow’s little performance had been back at Estrella Alta, it had to be the work of a power. Nothing else explained it. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fit the pieces together. An Umbrakinetic-8, Shifter-5, and Hypnosis-2… Those were Crow’s known abilities, but none of them accounted for the way he seemed to peel back my layers like I was made of glass.

Unless… unless he was bluffing.

No.

I clenched the wheel tighter, muscles tense. Crow didn’t bluff; if anything, he liked people to think he was bluffing. Still, something in the way he spoke and the gaps in his knowledge gave him away.

He didn’t know I killed Royal.

At least, he wasn’t confident I killed Royal.

Silver, Onyx, and me talked about Royal’s death, heavy with implication, but we said nothing concrete about it and as straightforward as a confession.

That meant his reach wasn’t perfect. Maybe it was distance. Maybe the presence of a powerful telepath disrupted whatever trick he was using. Whatever it was, it left holes… and holes meant opportunities.

I pulled the car back into gear, eyes fixed on the road.

“As of now,” I said, my voice cold and final, “Crow could only be listening to us. But I don’t care. After this job is done, we’ll flee Markend.”

Onyx practically vibrated in her seat, her grin wide and unrestrained as she kicked her boots up onto the dashboard. “Woohoo!” she cheered, throwing her hands in the air like we’d just won the lottery. “We gonna go to a tropical island and then make lots of babies!”

I groaned. “No, Onyx. Just… no…”

She pouted dramatically, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think I like this doom and gloom, you know,” she said, her voice sing-songy but sharp enough to make a point. “How about some music?”

Before I could say anything, she leaned forward and started fiddling with the radio like a toddler with a new toy. Knobs twisted, buttons clicked, and the speakers alternated between static and garbled voices as she scrolled through channels with reckless abandon.

I just let her be. Watching Onyx try to figure out the difference between AM and FM was… entertaining. She didn’t even know what those stood for, and to be honest, the confusion suited her. She could do with a bit of humbling every now and then, even if it came from something as simple as a radio dial.

My mind drifted, thoughts sinking into darker places as the city blurred past us. Crow’s smug grin, my so-called mother’s fake warmth, the deal still hanging in the air like a noose… every little thing weighed heavy.

And then the radio cut through the static.

I froze.

“—latest update,” the news anchor said, her voice sharp and clinical. “After intensive autopsy and investigation, the official report confirms that the death of cape Blackout was caused by Sharpy, an independent cape known for her erratic and violent behavior. Authorities—”

I lifted my hand without looking and stopped Onyx from touching the dial, keeping my eyes on the road as the broadcast continued.

“—but that isn’t where the news ends. In a separate incident at the docks, cape mercenary Marauder was found dead late last night. Sources confirm the altercation involved members of Pride, though details remain scarce. Witnesses report heavy gunfire, multiple unidentified powered individuals, and extensive property damage. Authorities have yet to issue a statement regarding connections between the two incidents.”

The anchor’s voice lowered, somber now. “The rise in violent cape altercations in recent weeks has sparked public concern. Many speculate that Pride is at the center of these escalating conflicts. SRC officials have urged calm and assured the public that they are actively monitoring the situation, working to prevent further bloodshed.”

The radio hissed with static again, leaving a tense silence in the car.

Onyx leaned back in her seat, chewing invisible gum with that smug little grin that usually spelled trouble. “Pride’s looking in the wrong direction,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm as she tilted her head toward the radio. “Like, maybe they should hire a psychic instead of running in circles.”

“That could be us soon,” I muttered, keeping my eyes fixed on the road ahead.

I didn’t even get the chance to elaborate.

The world went white and loud.

A deafening crash jolted my body forward as the limo was slammed hard from the side. The impact was so sudden that for a split second my brain couldn’t catch up with what had just happened. Tires screeched against asphalt, glass exploded into the air, and the luxury vehicle skidded violently before crashing through the front of a fashion boutique in a shower of mannequins and designer leather bags.

My ears rang like a church bell as I tried to comprehend the chaos.

BLAM!

A shotgun blast ripped through the shattered back window, and Onyx reacted faster than me, grabbing the back of my shirt and dragging me down into the cramped footwell. The slug obliterated the headrest where my skull had been a heartbeat ago, spraying foam and leather across the cabin.

“Move, Nick!” she hissed, her voice sharp and urgent.

I didn’t argue. My hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, phasing both of us through the buckled chassis as we slipped beneath the wrecked limo. The cold asphalt kissed my palms as we pressed ourselves into the darkness under the frame.

Onyx, ever the chaotic professional, pulled a compact handgun from the holster strapped high on her thigh beneath her dress. It wasn’t much, a tiny thing with barely enough stopping power to put down a rabid dog, but right now, it was better than nothing.

Another deafening blast tore through the undercarriage, punching through the metal just inches from my temple. Sparks spat in every direction. Onyx cursed, then shoved me sideways.

I didn’t need a second warning. I went fully intangible, slipping out from under the wreck and rolling into the open, my vision narrowing until I could focus on the figure that had climbed out of the white van.

White fatigues. Bonnet-style mask. Combat vest.

My gut twisted in recognition. One of the Triplets. Outsider mercs. The same bastards I’d worked with back in the vessel, Malufan.

He moved with precise efficiency, walking to me with menace, his mirrored goggles reflecting my intangible blur.

I didn’t think. My hand darted to my belt, fingers closing around a card, and with a sharp flick I hurled it forward, coating it with a power of intangibility. The card spun like a razor, humming through the air, but the bastard only tilted his head, the card slicing harmlessly past his shoulder.

He didn’t hesitate. His arm snapped, and something small and metallic sailed toward me.

I dropped back into tangibility, preparing to phase again, and then lightning kissed my skin.

CRACK!

The thing exploded mid-air, unraveling into a glowing lasso that coiled around my torso, burning into my nerves. Electricity surged through every vein, hot and relentless, forcing a strangled scream from my throat as my knees buckled. My power slipped, the world solidifying painfully around me as the shock tethered me to reality.

The limo door swung open behind me with an eerie calm.

Boots crunched on broken glass as the masked man approached, his shotgun leveled at my skull. I could feel the cold steel barrel press against my temple, smell the faint reek of burnt powder lingering on the muzzle.

I lifted my chin, voice dry and sharp despite the pain. “Can I say something?”

There was no hesitation, no humor, and no mercy in his voice when he answered.

“No.”

BANG!

Except, I didn’t die.

The shotgun roared, deafening and sharp, but the shot went wide. The man holding the weapon jolted violently, collapsing to the side as a small-caliber bullet punched clean through the back of his ankle. He let out a garbled scream before slamming face-first into the asphalt, seemingly losing consciousness.

Under the ruined limo, Onyx shouted. “Nick! Don’t you die on me!”

The second merc reacted instantly, his movements clean and professional as he drew a sidearm from the holster strapped to his chest rig. He didn’t hesitate.

Neither did I.

My body refused to respond, muscles locking as panic threatened to override reason. I clawed at my power desperately, tried to sink into that familiar void of nothingness. But it wasn’t working.

The man raised his handgun and aimed squarely at my forehead.

BANG!

The bullet tore through the space where my skull should have been, harmlessly phasing through me as if I were smoke.

A feral and victorious smile cut across my face.

I got it. My intangibility wasn’t about disappearing into thin air; it was about changing my density, letting my body become less than solid. Crude metaphor, maybe, but it worked. The fear vanished, replaced by something cold and sharp.

Another shot cracked through the night—pop!—and the first merc, the one crawling for his shotgun who just came back to consciousness, dropped flat with a neat hole in the side of his head. Onyx had lined up her shot perfectly from her cover beneath the limo.

The second man pivoted, instinct screaming at him to retreat, but I was already moving. My hand closed around the discarded shotgun, the cold steel warm with spent rounds. I swung it up, braced it against my shoulder, and fired.

The recoil slammed into me like a kick.

The slug ripped through his chest, flinging him back into the shattered remnants of the storefront. He twitched once, then went still.

I exhaled sharply, my heart hammering like a war drum. He could dodge my cards. But a bullet? No one’s faster than a shell moving at 1,200 feet per second.

“Nick!” Onyx’s voice tore through the ringing haze. “Someone’s still in the van… probably the hacker that blanked the CCTVs and traffic lights!”

No wonder.

The road had been too quiet, no bystanders, no gawking pedestrians, and no blaring horns from honking drivers. It wasn’t coincidence. This had been an ambush.

I pumped the shotgun, chambering another round with a sharp clack-clack, and leveled it at the back of the white van.

BOOM!

The slug punched through the rear door, ripping metal apart like paper.

But I was too slow.

The van jolted violently, reversing hard as the driver lunged into the front seat, tires screaming against the cracked pavement. It shot backward with precision, clipping broken glass and rubble before vanishing down the empty road.

I fired again, then again, each shot chasing the van as it disappeared around the corner. All I managed were sparks from ricochets and empty shells clattering at my feet.

Onyx crawled out from under the limo, brushing dirt and glass from her dress with an almost casual sweep, though her sharp eyes belied the tension running beneath her skin. She holstered her pistol and jerked her chin toward the mangled storefront.

“We should go,” she said, tone clipped and businesslike. “We can’t have the CCTVs catching our faces.”