Jolene lay on the cold ground, the metallic tang of blood thick in her mouth. Her body felt distant, her limbs heavy and unresponsive, but her mind was still stubbornly awake, clinging to consciousness like a moth to a dying flame. Takeshi's lifeless body was only a few feet away, his face slack, eyes staring at nothing. A hollow numbness bloomed inside her chest. She wanted to crawl to him, to scream his name, but her strength had abandoned her.
Kazane stood over them, her silhouette sharp against the dim streetlights of the empty alley. Her crimson-stained hands rested on her hips as she gazed down at Jolene. There was no remorse in her expression—only a grim satisfaction, as though the fight had simply been an errand she needed to check off her list.
Jolene struggled to move, her muscles burning with every twitch. "You... won't get away with this."
Kazane tilted her head, a slow smirk spreading across her face. "Oh, Jolene. I already have."
Then, without another word, Kazane turned and disappeared into the night, her footsteps fading into the shadows like a bad dream.
Jolene tried to drag herself toward Takeshi's body, every inch an agonizing effort. "Takeshi... please..." Her voice cracked as tears mixed with the blood on her face. But he remained still. Gone.
The distant sound of police sirens cut through the heavy silence, drawing closer with each second. Jolene's pulse quickened. She knew what this looked like. She knew how it would end.
A patrol car screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley, and the blinding red-and-blue lights painted the scene in harsh, unforgiving colors. Officers spilled out of the vehicle, shouting commands as they moved toward her and Takeshi's body.
"Stay where you are!" one of them barked, drawing his weapon.
Jolene barely raised her head, her vision blurring. "Wait..." she whispered, but her voice was too faint.
Two officers knelt beside Takeshi, checking for a pulse. Their grim expressions told her everything she needed to know. Another officer hovered over her, his hand on his radio. "Suspect is conscious but injured. Requesting medical assistance on-site."
"Suspect?" The word felt like a slap.
Rough hands grabbed her arms, yanking her upright. Jolene winced as pain shot through her ribs, her wrists twisted into cold steel cuffs. She could barely lift her head as two officers pinned her arms behind her back, their grips firm and unrelenting.
"You're under arrest," the officer muttered grimly. "For suspected involvement in the murder of Takeshi Nakamura."
Jolene's head jerked up at the accusation, even though the motion made her world spin. "Murder? What the hell—"
"You were the only one found on the scene," the officer said flatly, dragging her toward the police car. "You're covered in blood. His blood."
"No!" Jolene's voice cracked with desperation. "I didn't do this! She—Kazane—she did it! She's the one who—"
The officer snorted. "Kazane? Right. I'll add 'shadow assassin' to your story. Real convincing."
Jolene thrashed weakly against his grip, her knees giving out as she stumbled. "It's not a story! She killed him! I tried to stop her!"
The officer's grip tightened as he hauled her back upright. "Save it for the station. Right now, you need to focus on staying conscious."
Jolene's breath hitched, the panic building in her chest. "Please, listen to me! I didn't kill Takeshi! You have to believe me!"
Another officer leaned closer, giving her a stern look. "Look, lady, you were caught red-handed next to the victim. No witnesses. No alibi. And now you're babbling about some woman who doesn't exist. That's not helping your case."
Jolene gritted her teeth, feeling hopelessness coil around her heart like a vice. "She does exist. Kazane—she's real. She killed him, and she'll come for the rest of us."
"Yeah? And I bet she flies too," the officer sneered, shoving her into the back seat of the patrol car.
Jolene slumped against the seat, her bloodied face resting against the cold window. Every breath felt like sandpaper in her throat, and her heart pounded in her chest, desperate and wild. As the car door slammed shut behind her, the realization hit her like a hammer:
They didn't believe her. No one would.
Takeshi was dead. Kazane was free. And Jolene Kujo was about to take the fall for a murder she didn't commit.
The officers in the front seats were murmuring into their radios, updating dispatch as they prepared to leave. Jolene's wrists burned where the cuffs dug into her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the numbness back into her body, trying to suppress the storm of rage and grief rising inside her.
"You don't understand," she whispered, her voice lost to the hum of the car engine.
But it didn't matter. No one was listening.
The car rumbled to life, and as the police cruiser pulled away from the alley, Jolene's mind raced, struggling to piece together her next move. She knew she couldn't let Kazane get away with this—not after everything she'd done.
She wouldn't let Takeshi's death be in vain.
Somehow, some way, she'd find a way to make things right. Even if it meant burning the entire city to the ground to do it.