Clutching his prize, Arthur scrambled out of the ruins, constantly checking over his shoulder. He didn’t make it to his car.

Before he reached the end of the block, red and blue lights suddenly strobed wildly, cutting through the darkness. Three unmarked police cruisers boxed him in.

Through the audio feed, I heard Ortiz’s voice ring out, loud and clear over a megaphone.

“Arthur Hale, drop the crowbar! Keep your hands where we can see them!”

He froze, trapped like a rat in the spotlight, the heavy box slipping from his fingers to crash onto the pavement.

The game was over.

Chapter 5: Unpacking the Vault

Even in handcuffs, Arthur Hale reeked of arrogant entitlement.