The second hand of the mechanical wristwatch on Vega's wrist ticked softly through each notch.
02:14 a.m. Downtown Chicago.
A fine drizzle cast a thin film over the windshield of the matte black Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat. All the car's lights were turned off, plunging it into the darkness of the alley beside the warehouse belonging to the Illinois Commercial Bank. In the pitch-black cockpit, the only light came from a miniaturized radar screen and the sputtering blue flame of a Zippo lighter in Vega's hand.
She leaned back against the leather seat, exhaling a thin stream of smoke leisurely. Vega's face was hidden behind a black hoodie, revealing only her slender chin and cat-like eyes that were as cold and still as the bottom of a fathomless lake.
In the wireless earpiece came the sound of furious keyboard clacking, followed by Juno's calm voice:
"The thermal sensor alarm system at the warehouse compound has been frozen. The East emergency exit opens in exactly three minutes. Vega, that bastard Leo is coming out now. He's grabbed two suitcases of bearer bonds."
"Tell him, exactly three minutes. One second over, and I step on the gas,_ Vega removed the cigarette from her lips, her voice completely without a ripple, her breathing entirely steady. "I don't have the habit of waiting for anyone."
"He heard you; he's frantically grabbing the rest now,_ Juno chuckled softly through the earpiece. "You really don't have an ounce of mercy."
"Mercy doesn't keep you alive when the cops open fire,_ Vega replied pale and indifferently, her gloved black hand resting gently on the gear shifter, nudging it slightly. The 6.2L supercharged V8 engine roared with a muffled rumble like a waking beast before instantly falling back into a smooth, purring whisper.
Two minutes and forty seconds flat. Heavy footsteps echoed.
The warehouse side iron door flew open, and Leo—the cohort in charge of cracking the safe—emerged carrying two heavy suitcases. But right behind him, a backup alarm suddenly wailed, tearing through the night. Floodlights swept across the entire alley, blazing bright.
"Damn it! There's an underground security system!" Leo screamed into the earpiece, drained of all color, sprinting desperately toward the car.
"Someone interfered from the outside!" Juno's voice hardened. "A high-level encryption protocol just overrode my commands! Vega, go now!"
The moment Leo threw the two suitcases into the back seat and scrambled into the cockpit, Vega floored the gas. The Charger lunged forward like an arrow cleaving the wind, its tires screeching against the wet pavement, leaving behind a streak of burning rubber.
Two private security Ford Explorer vehicles immediately charged out from two street corners, their high beams flashing straight into the Charger's windshield to blind Vega.
"We're dead! Back up!" Leo screamed, clutching the roof interior.
Vega didn't even blink. She didn't slow down at all, her gaze terrifyingly calm as she stared straight at the gap of less than two meters between the two charging armored vehicles.
"Shut up,_ Vega said in an ice-cold tone.
The exact moment the two Ford Explorer vehicles were about to crush the front of her car, Vega pulled the handbrake, jerked the steering wheel hard to the left, and swiftly downshifted while slamming it back to the right. The Charger executed a spectacular tight-angle 180-degree drift right on the slick road, its tail brushing past the security vehicle's front end by a hair's breadth. The two Explorers failed to react in time, crashing head-on into each other with a loud bang, scattering electrical sparks everywhere.
The Charger shot away like a ghost. Through the rearview mirror, Vega watched coldly as the two wrecked vehicles receded into the distance.
"Three state police cars are turning off Michigan Avenue,_ Juno reported, her fingers still hammering the keyboard. "They've blocked the overpass."
"I'm not taking the overpass,_ Vega smirked, a faint, proud smile touching the corner of her lips. "Juno, activate escape route number three."
"Copy. Intersection traffic light number five turns green in 5 seconds."
Vega didn't charge out onto the avenue, instead violently swerving into a narrow, cramped steep alley leading down to the old railway logistics area. This was a route absent from any standard navigation map—an emergency exit she had personally scouted five times before taking the job. Calculating an exit strategy before stepping into the game had always been the instinct keeping Vega alive for the past five years in the underworld.
The Charger smashed through a wooden barricade, airborne for a second before landing smoothly onto the service road running alongside the tracks. The police completely lost her trail. The entire chase lasted no more than two and a half minutes.
One hour later. A safehouse in the suburbs of Chicago.
The metallic scent of money and the aromatic fragrance of dark coffee blended in the quiet space. Leo slumped over a chair, his chest heaving from the fright, while Juno leisurely counted stacks of bearer bonds on the table.
Vega stood leaning against the window frame, holding a cup of hot coffee, her eyes tracing the raindrops clinging to the glass pane. She had taken off her hoodie, revealing form-fitting attire that accentuated the athletic, fluid physique of someone who always lived in a state of combat readiness.
"Five million dollars, exact,_ Juno looked up, her eyes bright behind intellectual frames. She tossed an encrypted memory card across the table toward Leo. "Your cut has had the commission deducted. Get out of this city immediately."
Leo clutched the duffel bag containing his share, looking at Vega with a gaze mixed with awe and dread: "You really are a demon behind the wheel, Vega."
Vega didn't answer, merely casting a cold, dismissive glance telling him to get lost. When the heavy door clicked shut, the space was left with only Vega and Juno.
Juno leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of tea, a gentle smile surfacing on her lips: "The final debt of your family has been wiped clean. The remaining money is enough for the two of us to live leisurely on some South American island for the rest of our lives."
Vega slowly walked back to the table, looking at the pile of cash and bonds. The haunting shadow of her late father's blood debts and nights of running seemed to have finally reached an end.
"Fish swim in the deep ocean, birds fly in the high sky,_ Vega whispered softly, repeating their familiar saying. "Starting tomorrow, we are completely free."
Juno smiled, raising her teacup into the air: "To freedom, Ghost Wheel."
Vega raised her coffee cup, clinking it lightly against Juno's. A rare sense of peace crept into her chest. She had planned this "disappearance" for three years. No more chases, no more gunfire, no more living like a ghost in the heart of the city.
04:00 a.m. While driving back to her private apartment to pack her belongings one last time, Vega tuned the shortwave radio to the underworld's private frequency.
The soothing jazz tune was suddenly interrupted by an urgent bulletin from the underground Chicago radio channel:
"...Urgent update. Ten minutes ago, a heavy-firepower gunfight broke out at the military warehouse area in South Chicago Port. A special encrypted shipment was completely destroyed. Seven dead on the scene. The entire area has been cordoned off by an unnamed private force..."
The underground broadcaster's voice was riddled with trembling:
"...Rumors say that shipment belonged to 'The Foundry'. The organization's leader has just issued a system-wide red notice. Anyone appearing within a two-kilometer radius around the port area at that time will be investigated..."
Vega frowned. South Port was less than a kilometer from her job site, and the time of the shootout matched the exact moment her security system had been overridden by an unknown party.
A cold wave raced down Vega's spine. The black silk scarf around her neck fluttered slightly in the draft blowing through the window crack.
She glanced into the rearview mirror. The road behind was completely empty, save for yellow streetlamps trailing behind and fading into the dark. But a fugitive's survival instinct told her: the surrounding air had just grown unusually heavy and dangerous.
The brief sense of peace vanished entirely, yielding to a gloomy omen sinking deep into the heart of the Chicago night.
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