Shadows Of Injustice

The rain carved silver lines down the dark streets, pooling in cracks and running through the gutters like veins of liquid light. The city pulsed beyond the alleyways—horns blaring, neon flashing, the distant thrum of life continuing in ignorance.

Elizabeth Kane moved through the night like a shadow, the weight of the hard drive pressing against her side. It was a lifeline and a curse, a silent promise of destruction.

The feeling came first that instinctive prickle at the base of her neck.

Then, the hum.

Low. Subtle. The kind of sound designed to blend into the noise of the city, but she heard it anyway.

A black car slipped from the mist, headlights off, moving with unsettling precision. The tires whispered against the slick pavement, hunting without a roar, closing in without a rush.

Elizabeth's breath slowed. Calm. Measured.

Behind her, the car rolled to a slow, deliberate stop at the mouth of the alley.

The doors opened.

Figures stepped out silent but certain. The tallest moved first, his steps controlled, hands loose at his sides. No rush. No unnecessary force. He carried presence like a blade.

Elizabeth held her ground muscles coiled, breath steady.

A beat of silence.

Then hill his voice low, even. Too calm.

"You almost made it."

Elizabeth exhaled. "Not really."

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "No? You ran like you thought you had a chance."

She tilted her head. "You followed like you thought I wouldn't fight."

Another pause. He studied her, eyes sharp beneath the glow of the streetlamp. Calculating.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

Elizabeth's smirk was slow, deliberate. "If I did, I wouldn't care."

The men around him stiffened, but the tall one only let out a quiet breath, neither angered nor impressed.

"That's a dangerous way to live."

"I know."

He took a step closer, the rain sliding down the hard angles of his face.

"You have something that doesn't belong to you."

Elizabeth's fingers flexed at her side. "Do I?"

"The hard drive." A shift in his stance, subtle but certain. "Hand it over, and we don't have to do this the ugly way."

Elizabeth breathed in the storm around her, the scent of wet asphalt, the tension of a fight waiting to erupt.

"You say that like there's a clean way."

A flicker of something behind his gaze—interest, perhaps.

"There was. You had a choice."

She let out a quiet chuckle. "I did. And I made it."

His head tilted. A slow inhale.

"You think you're untouchable, Missy?"

She didn't answer.

Because she wasn't untouchable.

She was something worse.

The shift in energy came without warning—a flick of his fingers, a signal unseen. The men moved.

Elizabeth was faster.

She closed the distance between her and the leader first, sidestepping as the others surged forward. Her hand snapped out—sharp, practiced—gripping his wrist before he could react.

A twist. A pop.

His gun hit the pavement.

She drove her knee up—precise, punishing.

The breath left his lungs in a silent grunt. He staggered back, his men already moving to compensate.

She pivoted, elbow slamming into the nearest jaw—a sickening crack. The man crumpled.

Another lunged—she sidestepped, using his own momentum to send him careening into the wall.

The last made the mistake of hesitating.

Elizabeth struck hard, fingers jabbing into his throat. His choke was wet, ragged, his body folding under its own weight.

Silence fell.

Only the rain remained.

Elizabeth crouched beside the tall man, the one who had spoken with such quiet certainty just moments ago.

His breath came sharp, controlled despite the pain radiating from his arm.

Elizabeth leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You should've made a better choice."

Then, without hesitation, she twisted his shoulder back sickeningly slow.

A scream tore through the night.

The scream faded into the rain, swallowed by the city's indifference.

It didn't shake her.

Elizabeth didn't wait to see if he'd recover. She had already decided none of them were walking away untouched.

"Compromise." The leader's voice was a rasp now, laced with restrained pain. "Not a word in your dictionary, is it?"

Elizabeth wiped rain from her brow with the back of her hand, eyes locked on him.

"Neither is surrender."

A flick of his fingers.

He collapsed with a strangled cry.

Elizabeth exhaled. Rain dripped from her hair, her breath steady despite the carnage around her.

A distant sound. A low, humming whir from the street.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed.

Backup.

The headlights of a second car cut through the rain.

More men. More guns.

The leader smiled through the pain.

"You're outnumbered."

Elizabeth rolled her shoulders. The ache was settling in now, deep in her muscles. She felt it—the weight of the night pressing against her bones.

She should run.

She didn't.

Instead, she looked down at him, at the bodies of the others groaning on the wet pavement.

And she smiled.

"Not outmatched."

The new car doors swung open.

Elizabeth exhaled.

Then she moved.

The first bullet sliced past her ear, hissing through the rain-soaked air. She dropped low, rolling behind a rusted dumpster just as gunfire erupted from the new arrivals. The night shattered with the deafening cracks of suppressed rounds, the pavement sparking where bullets bit into the concrete.

Elizabeth didn't waste a second. She drew her own pistol, popping out from cover just long enough to fire two quick shots. One man staggered back, clutching his shoulder. Another dove behind the open car door, glass exploding as her third shot punched through the window.

They had numbers. But she had precision.

A round whizzed past her cheek, too close. She ducked, heart hammering, mind already calculating. There was no way she could take all of them in a straight firefight.

She needed to move.

The alley ended in a high chain-link fence, slick with rain and crowned in barbed wire. She could make it if she could clear the distance before they shredded her with lead.

Another burst of gunfire. She counted the seconds between reloads.

Three. Two

Now.

Elizabeth sprinted.

She zigzagged through the alley, boots splashing through puddles, bullets kicking up mist at her heels. A shot grazed her arma white-hot line of fire but she didn't stop. Pain was a luxury she couldn't afford.

The fence loomed ahead. Behind her, the leader barked a command, his voice strained but sharp. More shots. More misses.

Five feet. Four.

She leaped, gripping the fence and hauling herself up in one swift motion. The metal bit into her palms, rain making it treacherously slick. A gun cocked below her too close.

She twisted mid-air, one hand gripping the fence, the other yanking a knife from her belt.

The man aiming at her didn't have time to react.

She flung the blade.

It buried deep in his throat. His gun fired wide, his body crumpling with a wet gurgle. She didn't look back.

She swung her legs over, dropping hard on the other side. Her ankle twisted on impact, but she pushed through the pain, forcing herself into a run.

The safe house was six blocks away.

She tore through the backstreets, weaving between abandoned cars, leaping over broken crates. Shouts echoed behind her. They were coming fast.

A black van screeched onto the main road ahead, cutting off her escape. Tires screamed against wet asphalt. The side door slid open, and a muzzle flashed

She dove left.

The shot barely missed, slamming into the brick wall behind her. Her lungs burned, her muscles screamed, but she kept moving.

She spotted a fire escape. It was her best chance.

She scaled the metal ladder in seconds, ignoring the groan of rusted bolts beneath her weight. Below, the van's doors burst open, men spilling onto the street, guns raised.

She didn't hesitate.

She ran across the rooftop, heart pounding.

Bullets cracked against the concrete ledge beside her, but she didn't slow. The next building was a ten-foot gap away.

No time to think.

She jumped.

Air rushed past her, the city spinning for a breathless second

Then her hands caught the edge of the next rooftop.

She gritted her teeth, hauling herself up just as more gunfire exploded below. She rolled onto her back, chest heaving, rain falling hard against her face.

No time to stop.

She pushed to her feet, cutting across the rooftop and dropping down the fire escape on the other side. She landed in an empty lot, darting into the shadows before the men on the street could spot her.

One more block.

The safe house was an old apartment, tucked between a laundromat and a boarded-up bar. She reached the back entrance, fingers shaking as she punched in the security code. The door clicked open, and she slipped inside, bolting it behind her.

Silence.

Her breath came ragged. Blood trickled from the gash on her arm.

She made it.

For now.

But just as she turned, she felt it that prickle at the base of her neck.

Someone was already inside.