Chapter 2: The Chase

Ren didn’t stop running when he hit the street.

The night swallowed him whole—neon lights flickering, traffic screaming past, voices rising behind him. The city had shifted. He could feel it. That invisible click when something ordinary turns dangerous.

“Don’t lose him!”

The shout cut through the noise. Ren glanced back.

Three figures burst out of the alley he’d just left, dressed casual but moving like they’d done this before. Too coordinated. Too calm.

Not cops.

Ren pushed harder.

His lungs burned as he crossed the intersection, dodging a taxi by inches. A horn blared. Someone cursed. The city kept moving like nothing was wrong. It always did.

He ducked between two buildings, slipping into a service corridor barely wide enough for dumpsters and cables. His shoulder clipped concrete. Pain shot down his arm, but he didn’t slow.

Footsteps followed.

Fast.

“They’re gaining,” Ren muttered, panic tightening his chest.

He vaulted a low fence and hit a staircase leading up to an emergency exit. Metal steps rang under his shoes. He took them two at a time, bursting onto a rooftop washed in pale light.

Wind hit his face.

For half a second, the city opened up—towers stretching into the night, lights blinking like distant stars. Then a gunshot cracked the air.

Ren dropped instinctively.

The bullet shattered a vent behind him.

“Move!” he yelled at himself.

He ran.

Across the rooftop. Over a gap. His foot slipped on gravel, heart lurching as he barely cleared the jump. He rolled, came up shaking, and didn’t look back.

They were serious.

This wasn’t intimidation. This wasn’t a warning.

This was a hunt.

Ren slid down a fire escape, hands burning, and hit the ground running again. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. Another buzz. Then another.

Finally, he ducked into a stairwell and checked it.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

You shouldn’t have been there.

Ren’s blood went cold.

He typed with trembling fingers.

REN: Who is this?

The typing dots appeared instantly.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

Run.

A door slammed above him.

Ren shoved the phone away and burst back into the street, adrenaline drowning out fear. His mind raced. He replayed the night over and over—what he’d seen, what he’d heard, what he’d taken without realizing its value.

Whatever it was, it had turned him into a liability.

Ahead, the crowd thickened near a night market. Music thumped. Laughter spilled into the street. Ren plunged into it, weaving between people, knocking over a tray of food, earning shouts and curses.

He didn’t stop.

Behind him, his pursuers split up—smart. One went wide. Another climbed. The third stayed on his trail, relentless.

Ren spotted a subway entrance and dove inside, skipping steps, slipping through turnstiles as alarms shrieked. He jumped the tracks just as a train thundered past, wind ripping at his clothes.

He collapsed against the tunnel wall, chest heaving, heart hammering so loud it drowned out everything else.

Silence followed.

No footsteps. No voices.

For now.

Ren slid down to the concrete, hands shaking. The city above him roared on, unaware, uncaring. Somewhere out there, powerful people had decided he was a problem.

And they wouldn’t stop.

Ren wiped sweat from his face and stood.

If the city wanted him to run—

he’d make sure it had to work for it.