My feeling was right.
I got detained by the police on my way to deliver the package.
Tyler hadn't told me what was inside, but I had a gut feeling it was drugs. And I was right.
The client's meeting point was still within Douglas's territory, but I needed a car to get there. Tyler had given me one of the group's cars, but luck wasn't on my side. I ran into a police patrol. They stopped me for inspection. I tried to hide the package, but the detection dog sniffed it out instantly.
And just like that—I was arrested.
Locked up in a holding cell at the police station, I sat on the rock-hard bed, my mind racing. My heart pounded relentlessly, anxiety creeping in like a slow poison. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and something rotten. The metal bars were rusted, the floor damp from a ceiling leak, and the flickering light barely illuminated the cramped space. I was alone in my cell, but the others weren't quiet. Yelling, pleading, cursing—it was endless noise, and I was already sick of it.
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
I thought about Ashley. About my family. If they saw me like this, what would they think? Would they be disappointed? Would they turn their backs on me?
I gritted my teeth. I couldn't let that happen.
_______________
Elsewhere in the police station, the atmosphere was the complete opposite—officers chatting, laughing, typing away at reports. The place buzzed with activity. Among them, Connor Hayes, a young officer, sat at his desk, filling out paperwork for his latest arrest.
It had been only a few months since he joined the force, but his track record was impressive for a rookie.
As he was typing, a senior officer approached him.
"Hey, rookie, I heard you bagged a drug dealer. Impressive," the older cop complimented, though his tone lacked sincerity.
Connor barely glanced at him. "Thanks. What do you want, sir?" His voice carried an edge of irritation. Connor was all about the job—no time for small talk, no interest in drinking buddies or office gossip.
The senior officer smirked. "Oh, nothing. Just checking in on my junior." That ugly smirked face could scare off kids. It made him wonder how this ugly man managed to get a wife and a daughter.
Connor ignored him and continued typing, but the older man's eyes suddenly widened in shock. His gaze was locked on something on Connor's desk—an aluminium Clubs tarot card.
"H-hey… where did that card come from?" The senior officer's voice wavered.
Connor noticed his reaction but dismissed it. "It was on the guy when I arrested him."
The senior's face drained of color. His hands trembled. "Idiot! What've you done?! Are you trying to get us killed?!"
Connor frowned. "What do you—"
The landline phone on his desk rang, cutting him off. The sharp sound made the senior flinch violently. Before Connor could pick it up, the older officer snatched it with a shaky hand.
"H-hello?" he answered hesitantly.
"Hey, " A deep voice came from the other end. "I heard you arrested one of my people."
The senior officer's body stiffened. His face twisted in sheer terror.
"W-we're sorry, sir! I-it was our rookie who arrested him," he stammered, voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't care," the voice interrupted, cold and unforgiving. "You know what to do. Or else."
The line went dead. The implication behind his voice means only the senior officer knows.
The senior officer's hands shook as he put the phone down. He turned to Connor with a look of pure horror. Then, without another word, he bolted towards the cells.
"I'll deal with you later, rookie!" he barked over his shoulder.
_______________
Time crawled in that cell. Half an hour had passed, maybe more. The noise from the other inmates had started to die down. I lay on the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, lost in thought, when hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor.
The other prisoners perked up.
"Hey! Let me out!"
"Please, I'm innocent!"
I ignored them and turned my head toward the approaching figure.
An older officer, drenched in sweat and visibly shaking, stopped in front of my cell. He fumbled with the keys, struggling to unlock the door.
What the hell is going on?
Finally, the door swung open.
"S-sir, y-you are free to go. I-I'm sorry for what we did," he stammered.
Confusion hit me like a truck. What the hell? Why was I suddenly being released?
But freedom was freedom. I wasn't about to question it.
I stepped out, and the senior officer practically rushed me toward the exit. As we passed through the lobby, most officers ignored me, but I felt a pair of eyes burning into me with resentment. I didn't know who, but I sure as hell noticed it.
At the entrance, the senior officer hastily handed back my belongings, a tarot card, a car key, and the package I was supposed to deliver.
I stared at the items in disbelief. Before I could ask anything, the officer turned and hurried back inside.
Seriously, what the hell just happened?
My phone rang. It was Tyler.
I answered. "Yes, Tyler?" I asked like nothing had happened.
"Vincent, you have an hour left to deliver the package. If you make it on time, you get 30% of the package's total value."
My breath caught. My eyes widened. The call cut off.
I quickly opened my map app.
Estimated time to destination: 1 hour 30 minutes.
"Fuck," I muttered. "I can't make it in time."
But… 30% of the value? Drugs were expensive and judging by the weight of this package, it was worth a fortune.
I gritted my teeth, wrestling with my thoughts. Then, I made my decision.
I would deliver this package.
I floored the gas pedal. The speedometer climbed to 90 mph. My heart pounded in sync with the roaring engine.
I blew past red lights, weaved between cars, took sharp turns at reckless speeds. One wrong move, and I'd be dead.
But miraculously, I made it.
The client—a bald, heavily tattooed black man—was already waiting. He eyed me as I stepped out of the car, package in hand.
The transaction was quick. He inspected the goods, nodded, then handed me a briefcase. Without another word, he got into his car and disappeared down the road.
Back in my car, I opened the case.
Stacks of crisp $100 bills stared back at me.
"Damn…" I muttered, awestruck. This was more money than I had ever seen in one place.
For a brief moment, a dangerous thought crossed my mind. What if I took the money and ran?
...
...
I dismissed it. Probably the stupidest idea I've ever had.
Shaking my head, I shut the briefcase, placed it on the passenger seat, and started the engine before heading back to HQ.
When I got back, I handed over the briefcase to Tyler. Immediately after that, I received a notification saying that $10,000 had been transferred into my bank account.
What the fuck...?
What was the hell up with this amount? 10K just for that? Isn't this too much?
I couldn't use this money. People would get suspicious about where I get this amount of money. I was just a convenience store worker, and I know damn well that no convenience store worker could get this money without doing illegal activities.
Oh, wait, I just did an illegal activity.