Chapter 68

Chapter 68
Chapter 68

Ariel's hands shook as she clutched the serrated knife, wrapped in her jacket sleeve to preserve any prints. The alley behind Eclipse reeked of garbage and rain-slicked pavement, the club's thumping bass decreased as she moved farther from it. She backed against the wall, staring at the place where the hooded man had vanished. Her hair all scattered on her face, makeup smudged from the scuffle, but her heartbeat still increased recovering from the ordeal.

Micheal arrived minutes later, his car screeching to a halt at the alley's entrance. He jumped out, his gun drawn out immediately, and eyes wild with worry. "Ariel! What the hell happened?"

She held up the knife. "He came at me.“ She sniffed and swiped her hair backwards with a tired sigh. “The killer. He said 'justice for the wicked.' Sounded like a psycho.“

Micheal holstered his weapon and pulled her into a quick, fierce hug before stepping back to examine her. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, swallowing in. “This is his blade— matches the description from the autopsies."

“Where you terrified?“ He had a worries look, with concern that took Ariel aback.

"Just bruises.“ She muttered, her cheeks flustered. “Lila— the bartender— she confirmed Kane's running escorts, covering it with the club. The killer's targeting girls tied to that world. Freya must've gotten too close."

He cursed under his breath. "Jones is going to have your badge for this. You were supposed to stay put."

"I couldn't," Ariel snapped, her voice breaking slightly. "Not after Freya."

Micheal sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Alright. Let's get this to forensics. I'll cover for you— say I was tailing a lead and you backed me up. But no more lone wolf stuff."

She nodded.

They drove back to the station in silence, the knife bagged as evidence. By the time they arrived, the night shift was winding down, but Mrs. Jones was already there, alerted by Micheal's call. Her glare could have melted steel.

"Reckless doesn't begin to cover it, Detective," she said, pacing the briefing room. "But... good work on the knife. Vasquez is running prints and DNA now."

Ariel nodded, exhaustion crashing over her like a wave. Micheal squeezed her shoulder before slipping out to "follow up on something." She didn't question it; he always had his ways.



The next day, Micheal buried himself in the archives, the dim basement. He'd pulled strings from his own department back home, accessing restricted files that local PD might overlook, or bury. What he found chilled him.

An old dossier, stamped "Closed—Insufficient Evidence," detailed a string of unsolved murders from five years ago: young women, all in their 20s, found tortured and dumped in alleys. No carvings back then, but the brutality was similar—burns, cuts, prolonged suffering. The cases were hushed, buried under "political pressure." Notes hinted at interference from high up, tied to election seasons.

As he dug deeper, names jumped out. Several victims had worked for Mr. Cole's senatorial campaign— interns, aides, event staff. They'd been low-level, but whispers in the margins suggested they knew too much about "indiscretions." Cole's foundation for women's empowerment? A front, according to one redacted report, for something darker— exploitation, payoffs to keep mouths shut.

Micheal's pulse quickened. This wasn't coincidence. He photocopied what he could and headed upstairs.



Ariel was at her desk, poring over Freya's journal again, when Micheal burst in. "You need to see this."

He spread the files out, his voice low. "Old cases, covered up. Victims linked to Cole's world. Same MO basics—no 'justice' marks, but the torture... it's similar. I think they are related on some ways."

Ariel's eyes widened as she scanned the pages. "Cole's campaign? Freya was digging into club murders, but if Eclipse ties back to his political machine— Kane donated heavily to Cole. This killer... he could be from the inside. Someone who blames these women for the corruption, for 'tainting' the system. Or covering his own tracks."

Micheal nodded. "Exactly. Cole's murder kicked off a chain. His death exposed cracks, and now this guy's 'dispensing justice' on anyone connected."

Before Ariel could respond, her phone buzzed—a text from Dr. Vasquez: NEW BODY. ALLEY OFF 5TH. SAME PATTERN—WORSE THIS TIME.

They raced to the scene, rain pounding heavily on the streets again.
Ariel rushed out of the vehicle, Micheal quickly grabbed the umbrella after her.

The victim, a bartender from Eclipse identified by her ID, lay twisted in the mud. 'Justice' carved deeper, more viciously, across her chest and thigh. Burns fresh and cuts precise.

Ariel knelt, ignoring the downpour. "It's Lila.“

She got up slowly, clenched her jaw her eyes shut tightly. ”We need to catch him fast. He's going foo far.“

“I looked through the files can't find anyone I suspect to be connected.“
Micheal stared at the body, the old files burning in his mind. “But I think it's all connected to the past. We need to reopen those Cole links."