The Missing Link

032. Operation: Save Zane

The team moved with quiet efficiency, blending seamlessly into their surroundings. Five members took up positions with practiced ease, their movements calculated to cover every angle. The sixth lingered nearby, ready to call for backup should the situation spiral out of control.

Across from the church, Raine loitered near the minimart, her cousin's insistence keeping her at a safe distance from any potential danger. She watched intently as the scene unfolded, her eyes never straying far from the crowd. When Zane appeared, she followed his movements closely. Then, without warning, he slipped through the throng and disappeared, leaving her scanning the crowd in vain.

"Raine, stay put," DI Ferrer’s voice crackled through her earpiece.

From his vantage point, Ferrer and another officer spotted Zane, subtly guided through the crowd. They followed without drawing attention, weaving through the crowd until they reached a dim alley. A figure in a black hoodie lingered at the far end, blending into the shadows.

Zane lay on the damp pavement, his eyes wide and vacant. The woman knelt beside him, seeming to be planning something. A syringe glinted nearby, hinting at the probable cause of his limp, unresponsive state.

“Halt!” Ferrer barked, the scene snapping into focus. In one swift motion, he drew his firearm, levelling it at the shadowed figure. “N.A.P.D.! Hands where I can see them!”

The woman emerged from the darkness, her gloved hands moving with chilling precision. A faint glint of steel flashed in the fading light. Her lips curved into a cold smile—wordless, yet full of intent.

Ferrer held his ground, eyes locked on her, assessing every move. His thumb brushed the earpiece. “Reinforcements to the alleyway, east of the church,” he muttered, then added, “And an ambulance.”

“Copy that, sir,” crackled the response from the station.

“I’ve worked too hard for this. It doesn’t end tonight,” the woman murmured.

Ferrer’s eyes narrowed, his stance rigid. The officer beside him shifted forward, every muscle taut. “Step into the light. Now!” he commanded. “Drop your weapon!” came the final warning, echoing down the narrow alley.

The woman’s body tensed, her grip tightening around the trembling knife. Her pulse pounded in her ears, breath sharp and shallow. Eyes darting between the syringe and Zane, she made her move.

In one swift motion, she ducked low, snatching the syringe. Without hesitation, she yanked her black mask over her face and bolted toward the alley’s far end.

Ferrer reacted instantly, shouting orders, but she was already in motion. Reaching a chain-link gate, she vaulted onto it, scaling with fluid precision. In seconds, she vanished over the top, her silhouette dissolving into the night.

The alley exploded with noise. Dogs barked furiously from nearby yards, their howls piercing the air. A flock of doves burst skyward, wings slicing through the twilight in a flurry of white and grey, scattering like ghosts against the darkening sky.

“Suspect on the run!” DI Ferrer barked into his earpiece, already in motion. “Westbound, armed with a knife. I need backup—now!”

The officers responded instantly, spreading out to block every possible escape route. Their movements were precise, the net closing in on the woman as she vanished deeper into the maze of alleyways.

Raine stiffened as the transmission crackled through. The word ambulance hit her like a jolt. Zane. Something was wrong—she could feel it in her bones. Rising from her spot, she tuned in, straining to catch the next vital clue from the voices buzzing in her ear.