Zhao was hiding in a small, run-down motel. He had been indoors for two weeks now.

He mostly kept the curtains closed, allowing only a little sunlight into the room.

Every sound outside his door made him tense up. Every footstep in the hallway made his heart beat faster.

He knew he couldn’t hide like this forever. With each passing hour, the small motel room felt less like a safe place and more like a prison.

Eventually, hunger got the better of him. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in almost a week. After staring at the stained ceiling for hours, he finally dragged himself out of bed. He pulled on a dark hoodie, grabbed a baseball cap, and lowered the brim over his face.

Taking a deep breath, he headed for the door.

A few minutes later, he stepped outside. The fresh air hit him immediately. He glanced around nervously, but everything looked completely normal.

Cars passed by, a woman walked her dog across the street, and a few people stood chatting outside a nearby diner.

Everything seemed normal.

Zhao relaxed slightly. Right across the road was the small grocery store where he had been buying his supplies. If he moved fast, he could grab some food and be back in his room within minutes.

Pulling his cap lower, he crossed the street and walked toward the store. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the entrance.

Almost there. Just a little farther, he thought.

Then he froze.

Two police officers were standing right near the entrance of the store, talking casually beside a patrol car parked at the curb. One of them laughed at something the other said.

Zhao’s stomach dropped, and a cold sweat broke out across his back. The officers hadn’t noticed him yet, but suddenly, leaving the room felt like the worst idea he had ever had. He stood there, his pulse hammering in his ears, his mind racing through every option.

Turn around. Keep walking. Run.

Then, one of the officers glanced in his direction. Zhao’s heart nearly stopped.

He tried to act natural, but the sudden freeze had already given him away.

The officer’s eyes locked onto him, narrowing in suspicion, as they locked onto his.

Zhao’s pulse spiked. Trying to look like a man who had simply changed his mind, he turned and walked away. Not too fast, not too slow. He crossed back over the street and kept moving.

Don’t run. Don’t look back. Just keep moving.

His heart hammered violently in his chest. After half a block, he risked a quick glance over his shoulder. The officers were still by their car, but now, both of them were watching him. He snapped his head back around, turning onto a busier street, hoping to disappear into the crowd.

​For a few seconds, he thought he had made it.

​Then a voice cut through the noise behind him.

"Sir!"

​Zhao’s entire body tensed, but he kept walking.

​"Sir, stop!"

​The voice was much closer this time. Zhao glanced back and saw one of the officers crossing the street toward him, with the second right behind. Panic exploded in his chest, and he broke into a full run.

​"Stop! Police!"

​People screamed and jumped out of the way as Zhao shoved his way through the crowd, his boots pounding against the pavement. A car horn blared angrily as he darted into traffic, sprinting around a corner only to nearly collide with a delivery truck.

​The brief hesitation cost him.

​An officer lunged, grabbing the back of his hoodie. The fabric stretched, but Zhao twisted wildly, tearing himself free and forcing his legs to move. He got exactly ten more steps before the second officer tackled him hard from the side.

​The impact knocked the wind right out of his lungs, and he crashed heavily onto the sidewalk.

Before he could even try to push himself up, both officers pinned him to the ground.

​"Get your hands behind your back!"

​"I didn’t do anything!" Zhao choked out, struggling wildly beneath their weight.

​A heavy knee pressed into his back. His arms were brutally yanked behind him, and the handcuffs clicked shut.

​Zhao stopped fighting, his chest heaving against the cold concrete as a crowd gathered around to watch.

One of the officers pulled a photograph from his pocket, holding it next to his face.

​"Yeah," the officer said grimly. "It’s him."

The other officer reached for his radio. "Dispatch, this is Unit Twelve. Suspect is in custody."

​As they hauled him to his feet, a cold feeling settled deep in his stomach. His time had finally run out. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Hours later, Zhao sat handcuffed in a small interrogation room at the police station.

Moments later, a detective entered.

​"Zhao," the detective said, dropping a thick manila folder onto the metal table. "You’ve been a hard man to track."

​The detective leaned forward, pinning him with a cold stare. "Where do I even start? You are guilty of every electronic crime imaginable. Data theft, corporate espionage, laundering millions through untraceable servers. You name it, your digital footprint is on it."

​Zhao swallowed hard, shaking his head frantically. "It’s a mistake. Look, I didn’t do anything wrong."

"Right. And I’m the King of England," the detective scoffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

​He tapped the thick folder with his finger. "We didn’t pick you up on a hunch, Zhao. We’ve been tracking you for years. Every proxy server you hopped, every untraceable account you used to move that money, it all leads straight back to you. We got the technology to fish you out. You’re not a ghost anymore. You left a trail, and we followed it right to your doorstep."

​Zhao’s throat felt incredibly dry. He tried to shift his hands, but the sharp clink of the handcuffs reminded him exactly where he was.

"You don’t understand," he stammered, his voice trembling. "I was framed."

​The detective let out a short, humorless laugh.

"Save the innocent act for the judge. Now, you have two choices right now. You can sit here and play dumb while this folder sends you away for the next... thirty years, or you can start talking about how to get back the monies you stole."