The Heist and the Chase

Chapter Two: The Heist and the Chase 

The next day passed in a blur. Quinn could barely focus in class. His thoughts were consumed by one thing—the artifact. 

By the time school ended, his decision was final. 

He was going to steal it. 

The low-level city was just as grim as always, but today, Quinn felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him. 

His ribs still ached from yesterday's fight, but that pain was nothing compared to the fear creeping up his spine. He had never done something this dangerous before. Getting caught meant more than just losing his cleaning job—it meant getting beaten, or worse. 

But if he pulled this off? 

Everything could change. 

His fists clenched as he neared the Black Hounds' base. 

He had to man up. 

He entered the building like normal, head down, staying out of sight. The usual crowd of gang members lounged around, drinking, gambling, and laughing. No one paid him any mind. 

Good. 

He grabbed a mop and got to work. But this time, he lingered instead of leaving after finishing his usual routine. He kept glancing toward the boss's office, waiting for the right moment. 

And then it came. 

The boss and his top men left the office, heading toward the back of the building. Quinn had no idea why, but he didn't care. 

This was his chance. 

Moving fast but carefully, Quinn slipped toward the office door and pushed it open. 

The room was dimly lit, the scent of cigar smoke lingering in the air. A massive wooden desk stood in the center, papers scattered across it. A filing cabinet sat in the corner, but his eyes were locked on one thing—the box. 

It sat on a shelf behind the desk. Small, wooden, covered in intricate runes. 

Quinn moved toward it—but then something caught his eye. 

Under the desk… a lock. A hidden compartment. 

His heart pounded. The real storage wasn't on the shelf—the artifact was inside that compartment. 

He dropped to one knee and examined the lock. It was digital. Simple, but not something he could just break. 

He pulled out his phone. Over the years, he had learned some basic hacking tricks—nothing fancy, but enough to get through cheap security systems like this. He connected a small device to the lock's panel and watched numbers flicker on his screen. 

A minute passed. Then another. 

Come on… come on… 

Beep.

The lock clicked open. 

Quinn quickly reached in, grabbing the wooden box. Up close, the runes seemed to pulse faintly, like they were alive. 

He shoved it into his bag, zipped it shut, and stood up. 

Now, all he had to do was leave. 

He walked out of the office, trying to look casual. His heart hammered in his chest, but he forced himself to breathe normally. 

Just act natural. 

He made it a few steps before a deep voice stopped him. 

"Hey, cleaner. What are you doing here?"

Quinn froze. 

The boss stood just a few feet away, his sharp eyes locked onto him. 

For a second, Quinn's mind went blank. 

Then he forced a smirk. "Just finishing up some cleaning. Heading home now."

The boss narrowed his eyes. 

For a moment, Quinn thought it was over. 

Then, the boss grunted, stepping aside. "Tch. Whatever. Get outta here."

Quinn exhaled slowly and started walking. Fast. 

Behind him, the boss entered the office. 

Quinn reached the main entrance, almost free— 

"YOU THIEF! CATCH THAT THIEF!"

The roar of rage sent a shockwave of fear through him. 

Shit. 

Quinn broke into a sprint, shoving past startled gang members as the room exploded into chaos. 

"Get him!" 

Footsteps thundered behind him. He didn't dare look back. 

Quinn burst out of the Black Hounds' building, sprinting into the night. 

Behind him, ten men gave chase. 

One of them hurled a fireball. Quinn saw the glow from the corner of his eye and threw himself to the side. 

BOOM!

The explosion sent him stumbling, heat licking at his skin. 

He gritted his teeth. No time to stop. 

He dashed down narrow alleyways, vaulting over trash cans, weaving through the shadows. His breath came in short gasps, but he pushed harder. 

He leaped over a low fence, barely clearing it— 

WHOOSH! 

A different kind of energy surged toward him. Not fire. Something else, an energy shockwave

It slammed into him mid-air, sending him crashing down, the artifact coming out of the bag and he hit the ground hard. Grabbing the artifact he stumbled again His palm scraped against the pavement, and pain shot through him. 

Blood dripped from his hand Onto the artifact.

A blue light burst from the box. 

Quinn barely had time to react. His eyes widened as the runes pulsed, the glow intensifying. 

What the hell?!

For a moment, he forgot everything, the pain, the chase, the danger

And then he stumbled. 

His foot caught on the ground, and he fell forward. 

The artifact flew from his hands. 

It clattered onto the ground a few feet away. 

Quinn reached for it— 

Shouts filled the air.

The Black Hounds were closing in. 

He had a choice. 

Grab the artifact… and get caught. 

Or run. 

His fists clenched. Damn it!

Teeth gritted, heart pounding, Quinn turned and ran.

He sprinted into the night, rage boiling in his chest. 

After what felt like forever, Quinn finally stopped. 

His chest heaved. His hands trembled. His legs burned. 

And the artifact was gone. 

He slammed his fist against a nearby wall. "Shit! I lost it!"

His breath came in ragged gasps. His body shook—not just from exhaustion, but from frustration. 

He had risked everything. Everything.

And in the end… 

He had nothing to show for it. 

Except now, he was a wanted man. 

His job was gone. 

The Black Hounds wouldn't let this slide, and his life had just changed forever— 

But not in the way he expected.

Quinn continued running until he was sure he had lost them. 

The shouts had faded, and the sounds of pursuit had vanished, but his heart was still pounding, and his mind was still racing. 

He had been so close. 

So damn close. 

And he lost it. 

The blue glow from the artifact still burned in his memory. What was that? Why had it reacted to his blood? He didn't have the answers, and now, he might never get them. 

All he had now was the bitter taste of failure. 

With a deep breath, he forced himself to keep moving. He had to get home. 

The streets of the low district were eerily quiet at this hour. Dim streetlights flickered above cracked sidewalks. Stray cats darted through alleyways. The air smelled of rust and damp concrete. 

Quinn stuffed his hands into his pockets, keeping his head down. His clothes were dirty, his body ached, and his ribs throbbed with every breath. 

When he finally reached his apartment building, he hesitated at the door. 

His sister was inside. 

Would she notice something was off? 

He sighed and stepped in, closing the door as quietly as possible. 

The small apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from the kitchen. His sister sat at the dining table, waiting. 

As soon as she saw him, she perked up. "You're home late," she said, watching him carefully. "Everything okay?" 

Quinn forced a small smile. "Yeah. Just worked late, that's all." 

Her eyes lingered on him for a second longer, as if she didn't believe him. 

Then she stood up, her face softening. "I made your favorite," she said. "Come have some." 

Quinn hesitated. His stomach was empty, but he had no appetite. Not after everything that just happened. 

"I don't feel like eating right now," he muttered. 

He dropped his bag near the door and headed straight for his room. 

His sister frowned, concern flashing in her eyes. But she didn't push. 

"Alright… get some rest." 

Quinn nodded and shut his door behind him. 

As soon as he was alone, he collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

His mind was still reeling. His body was still tense. 

He had taken the biggest risk of his life… and failed. 

Now, the Black Hounds would be after him. 

And yet… 

That artifact. 

That glow. 

Something about it felt important. 

Even though he lost it, he had a gut feeling—this wasn't over. 

Not by a long shot.