He adjusted the wire to sit comfortably on his chest. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he prepared to infiltrate the gang he’d been following for years.

Rain pattered against the cracked window, misting the dilapidated warehouse where the notorious Raven Clan gathered for the night. The worn leather jacket that Luke wore was soaked, adding weight to his frame, but he ignored the discomfort, his mind racing with the final touches of his plan. He’d been tracking these guys for so long he could map out their routines in his sleep. Tonight, he was going all in.

Years of undercover work had brought him here. Countless sleepless nights, dark alleys, and hushed conversations with informants who’d all warned him the same thing: once you’re in, there’s no getting out. And the Ravens? They didn’t take kindly to visitors. His jaw tightened, his fingers tapping out a silent rhythm against his thigh to quell the nerves.

The meeting place was a sight, a worn relic in the industrial graveyard of the city, choked with shadows and smells of decay. He slipped through the heavy steel door, greeted by a waft of stale smoke and the sour tang of spilled beer. Inside, men hunched over tables, their eyes wary, hands always a fraction of a second away from concealed weapons. He passed rows of graffitied walls, noticing the emblems etched in crude black spray paint, a raven mid-screech, talons bared. Their brand. Their threat.

Rico, the second-in-command and a brutal thug by any measure, caught sight of him and strode over, his face a mask of suspicion. “You’re the new guy? Snake, right?”

Luke nodded, adopting the swagger of a man who knew the streets. “Yeah. That’s me. Snake.” It wasn’t his best alias, but it would do. Better to let them underestimate him.

Rico’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him for any hint of nerves, any tell that would give away the cop in his midst. Luke remained still, his expression impassive. Finally, Rico grunted and jerked his head, motioning for him to follow.

They walked deeper into the building, the sounds of crude jokes and laughter fading into a tense silence. They reached a back room, where a dozen men circled a table strewn with guns, maps, and a single burning candle that threw flickering shadows on their faces.

Luke recognized a few of them, men with files as thick as bricks back at headquarters, each with a list of crimes that would put them away for life. And at the head of the table sat the man he’d been chasing for years: Marcus “Crow” Delaney, the Raven Clan’s leader, his reputation a twisted legend on the streets. Marcus looked up, his eyes like sharpened knives, weighing Luke in an instant.

“So,” Marcus drawled, his voice rough as gravel. “Snake, huh? Rico vouches for you.”

Luke offered a small nod. “I don’t let people down.”

“That so?” Marcus’s eyes gleamed, and he nodded slowly. “We’ll see about that.” He gestured to a chair at the end of the table. “Tonight’s a big night. We’ve got some business with one of the city’s richest, and I don’t need any weak links. You screw this up, it’s on you and Rico.”

Luke nodded, hiding the sudden chill that ran down his spine. He slipped into the seat, playing the part, but his mind was already working double time, memorizing names, locations, and any hint of their operation. He had one shot to gather intel and get out, and it had to be tonight. Marcus was notoriously cautious; if he suspected Luke for even a second, it would be over.

Marcus leaned forward, his face lit by the candle’s wavering light. “There’s a shipment coming through the docks tonight, one we’ve waited on for months. Weapons, high-end. Stuff that’ll keep the pigs and every rival gang scrambling for months. It’s big. And tonight, you get to earn your place.”

Luke kept his gaze steady, even as dread coiled in his stomach. “I’m in.”

Marcus grinned, a crooked smile that showed too many teeth. “Good. Rico, take him along. Make sure he understands what happens if he even thinks of screwing us over.”

Rico’s hand clapped onto Luke’s shoulder, heavy and unmistakably menacing. “Come on, Snake. Let’s show you the ropes.”

Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving the air damp and thick. Rico led him to a beat-up van parked in the shadows, motioning for him to get in. Luke climbed in, keeping his face neutral, but his senses were on high alert. Two other men were already inside, their expressions cold as steel, guns cradled casually in their laps.

They drove in silence through the city’s underbelly, the streets empty except for flickering neon signs and the occasional homeless figure huddling in a doorway. As they neared the docks, Luke’s pulse quickened. He had to get to the shipment, record whatever details he could, and signal the backup team before things went south.

Rico parked behind a stack of rusted containers. “Alright,” he muttered, loading his gun and handing Luke a second firearm. “This goes south, you better know how to use that.”

Luke took the gun, its weight familiar but repellent. He nodded, masking his disgust with the stoic face of a man who’d seen too much.

They made their way through the maze of shipping containers, shadows stretching long and ominous in the dim light. Luke’s fingers brushed against the wire under his shirt, a fragile lifeline connecting him to the outside world, to the officers waiting nearby. But as they moved deeper, he realized with mounting dread that the gang had other plans.

A flicker of movement caught his eye, a figure crouched by the container, holding a knife. A flash of light, and another figure emerged, their eyes gleaming with murderous intent.

In seconds, chaos erupted.

Gunfire echoed in the narrow alleys, flashes of light illuminating faces twisted in rage and fear. Luke threw himself to the ground, heart pounding as bullets ricocheted off the metal containers. One of Rico’s men fell, blood spreading in a dark stain across his chest, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

Luke crawled forward, his hands slick with sweat as he unholstered his gun. He pressed himself against a container, catching his breath, his mind racing. The shipment was here, somewhere close. He had to find it, if he came back empty-handed, everything he’d worked for would be lost.

In the chaos, he spotted Rico, gun drawn, his face a mask of fury. “Snake!” he roared, his voice hoarse. “Get over here!”

Luke dashed forward, skidding to a halt beside Rico. “What’s the plan?” he panted, hoping the tremor in his voice passed for adrenaline.

Rico’s eyes were wild. “We go in, take down anyone who gets in our way.”

They charged forward, weaving between the containers. Luke kept close, waiting for the moment he could break away, his heart hammering as they rounded a corner. And then he saw it, the shipment. Crates stacked high, each one labeled with a red ‘X’ that marked it as the Ravens’ prize.

Before he could stop himself, he spoke into the wire, his voice barely a whisper. “Got the shipment. East side of the docks.”

The words barely left his mouth when he felt the impact. A heavy blow to his back, knocking him forward. Rico stood behind him, gun aimed, his face a mix of betrayal and rage.

“You really thought you could outsmart us, cop?”

Luke’s mind went blank, his body numb as the pain seared through him. The warehouse faded into shadows, the taste of blood sharp in his mouth as he realized too late that his cover was blown, and his mission had led him right into the Ravens’ unforgiving hands.