The IPC didn’t take risks lightly — unless those risks had a guaranteed profit.

Yet here you were, sprinting through the neon-lit streets of a foreign planet, the stolen case clutched tightly in your hands, and Topaz at your side. The sound of footsteps echoed behind you — IPC enforcers in pursuit, closing in fast.

“This is not how I planned for this deal to go,” Topaz muttered, barely winded despite the chase. Her golden eyes flicked toward you, sharp with irritation. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

You risk a glance over your shoulder. “Define ‘plan.’”

She groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.”

The two of you turned a corner, shadows stretching under the flashing city lights. The enforcers weren’t far behind. You grabbed Topaz’s wrist, pulling her toward a narrow alleyway.

“Left,” you said. “Trust me.”

She hesitated — because trust wasn’t something Topaz gave easily.

But then, she exhaled, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Fine. Don’t make me regret this.”

And with that, she followed.