Chapter 8: Selene

I returned home just after one in the morning. There was too much to plan in a short amount of time, so it looked like sleep was out of the question.

There was no telling how long those paintings would sit in that warehouse so I had to move quickly. "Now we just reverse image search," I mumbled and began uploading the photos through a secure network.

Some of the paintings were easily identified, but some of the others took some serious digging. After an hour of scouring the internet, I finally found the names of all of them. And, if my math was correct, the lot was easily worth a couple million or more.

A couple million dollars worth of stolen and fake art, all just sitting in that run down little warehouse, ripe for the taking. I had gotten in unnoticed easily enough tonight, I should be able to do it again so long as no one saw me on the cameras. Though, even if they had, I just have to be quick enough that they don't have time to do a damn thing about it.

I needed a van, and maybe some extra hands. I had to talk to Arthur.

"What do you need, Selene?" He asked when he heard me enter our home gym. "Have you come to tell me you already f*cked something up?" He was benching a rather impressive amount and I silently prayed for the bar to slip from his hands and crush his f*cking throat.

I hesitated. He would never believe in me, he would never put his faith in me if I couldn't do this myself. "I just," I pulled my shoulders back and held my head high. "I wanted to let you know that I have a plan: to bring down The Venator Family. I might be gone for a while, but I'll check in when I can."

"Sounds good, Selene. Don't mess this up." He finished his set and sat up, still not looking at me.

"I won't. I'll..." What was I supposed to say? I'll make you proud? It'd be a cold day in Hell. "I'll see you around, Arthur."

"Mhm, I expect you to check in regularly."

"Yes sir." I nodded and spun on my heel, making my way out of the gym as quickly as possible.

***

A van was easy enough to get my hands on, it didn't need to be anything special as I didn't plan on making it very far anyway. The plan was simple; steal the art, get caught, get taken, gain their trust. Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best plan but considering I only had a few hours to think it up, I think I was doing alright.

"Thanks, Dixon." He handed me the keys to the black beat-up Dodge van and gave me a troubled look. "Fix your f*cking face, Dixon, before I fix it for you. I'm fine."

Dixon was one of my father's go-to guys and would no doubt report this back to him. But it didn't matter, I'd be in the wolf's den by then. Dead or alive. I'm sure Arthur would be relieved by the former at the very least. It could be an early birthday present from me, maybe I could convince The Venator Family to wrap up my corpse with a pretty ribbon and send it to him.

Dixon only glared harder at me, trying to suss out what I was up to. "Am I going to get this van back?"

I laughed in his face and snatched the keys from his hand. "Oh most definitely not." I shrugged when he narrowed his eyes at me. "At least not in one piece. Put it on my tab."

"Goddamnit Selene, why do you always have to get into sh*t?" That got my attention.

I pulled my switchblade from my back pocket and flicked it open, tucking it under Dixon's jaw before he could blink. "If you ever speak to me that way again, I'll make sure to live-stream your castration." I took the bullsh*t from Arthur, only because I had to. But I wouldn't take it from Dixon, or anyone else for that matter.

Dixon put his hands up and let out a warm laugh. "I'm just teasing Selene. Put the knife away unless you plan on using it."

I flicked the blade closed, but not before drawing a bit of blood. I'm not one for bluffing. "I'll bring the van back if I can. Or if I can't, I'll pay for it. How's that?" He lowered his hands, nodding at my proposal.

"Be safe, Selene. Whatever you're planning..." He rubbed at the back of his neck with a calloused hand and looked away towards the ground. "Just, if you need help, you know I'm always here. Yeah?"

I nodded, thankful. "I know, Dixon. And I appreciate it but I think you know why I gotta do this myself."

He nodded, a look of pain and regret on his features that I chose to ignore. "I'll see you around Selene."

"I hope so, Dixon. You be good." He smiled and turned, heading back into his trailer he kept on the junkyard lot.

I crawled into the filthy van that smelled of old rain storms and molded fast food and did my best not to gag. The engine kicked over easily enough and I thanked God herself for giving me that at the very least.

The drive from the junkyard to the warehouse was roughly two hours, so I had time to think about how I wanted to go about this. I knew I'd be loading the paintings myself, so loading the van would take about half an hour. There was no way to stay out of the camera's view as I did so, so I would have to be quick.

Once I had the paintings loaded, I didn't quite know where I would go, or what I would do with them. But, I imagined that I wouldn't need to have a solid destination because the entire point was to get caught. I would just have to play it by ear, but that's what I did best.

Once I pulled up to the warehouse, I went into hyper-focus mode. I backed the van up to the back door of the warehouse that I had gone through before and quickly picked the three locks. Once I was in I rushed to the paintings, still sitting pretty where I had last seen them.

Thank f*ck.

I didn't even bother trying to hide from the cameras this time, the goal was to be in and out as quickly as possible. Luckily none of the framed paintings were very heavy, and I was fairly strong and tall for a female. I stood 5'10" and the last time I benched I was able to do a few reps of 180lbs. It wasn't much but it was more than most.

After getting nearly half the paintings loaded, I began to hear voices outside. I froze, it was too early to be found. I listened intently and tucked myself into the shadows. After a few moments, the voices passed and I was able to continue, letting out a breath of relief.

I was working on overdrive at that point, practically running the paintings to the van, doing my best not to damage them.

Once I had them all loaded, I let out a laugh; I had f*cking done it, or at least almost. This was too f*cking easy.

I hopped into the van and turned the key. Nothing.

"Are you f*cking kidding me?"

I turned the key again, nothing. "F*cking Hell!" I slammed my fist into the steering wheel and slammed both feet into the floorboard, cursing the van to Hell and cursing myself.

I rested my forehead on the wheel and let out a shaky breath. This had to work, I couldn't fail, not now. Not before I even had a proper chance. Before I could spiral, I threw my body from the van and marched around to the front of it, throwing open the hood and glaring angrily down at the piece-of-sh*t.

Okay, okay. I had to think, I had to be smart about this. There was no way I was Ubering back home with my tail tucked between my goddamn legs. I searched my empty mind palace for everything I knew about older cars. The battery, not sh*t I could do about that right now. Imagine asking for a jump from a passing car in the midst of a freaking heist. That would be my luck.

The thought hit me then like a semi truck. The battery cables, the terminal connection!

I disconnected the negative, waited ten seconds, then reconnected it. I slammed the hood down once more and barreled into the driver's seat, turning over the engine once more. It sputtered for a second and then rolled over, purring like music to my f*cking ears.

I slammed the van into reverse and backed up so that I could pull out of the driveway. My heart was beating a thousand beats per second, doing it's damndest to escape my chest cavity. I turned right on Fox Avenue and slammed on the gas. There was no one around and I didn't give two flying sh*ts about the speed limit. I probably only had a solid couple of minutes before they had men after me.

It was nearly four o'clock in the morning and Beacon Highway was empty. I slammed the clutch and threw the van into third and pressed my combat boot down on the gas. Fourth gear. Fifth gear. I was flying down the street when I saw the cars appear behind me. I grinned to myself and hit play on my phone. Can't Go to Hell by Sin Shake Sin blared through speakers.

Normally I would assume they were no one, but I knew better. They sped after me and spread out as I pressed the gas as far down as it would go. I knew one thing.

I wouldn't make this easy for them.

Two cars, easy enough to handle. I swerved into the left lane, effectively cutting off one of the cars that pursued me. They dodged and weaved into the right lane, taking up the side of the other car.

I looked in the clouded rearview mirror and counted three heads. They looked to be yelling at one another through open windows as they drove next to one another.

I can handle three stupid ass men, I thought to myself. Easy-f*cking-peasy. I may not be able to outrun them in their nicer, newer cars. But I could definitely give them a run for their money.

I swerved again, cutting the wheel and meeting the right lane on two wheels. I squealed with pure delight as the van slammed back down on all four wheels and the paintings rolled around in the back of the van. They wouldn't survive this and I may not either. The thought sent a shiver down my spine and I couldn't fight the grin that threatened to cut my face in half.

The two cars pursuing me sped up and split the road, coming up on either side of me as I drove down the middle of the two-way highway. It took them only a second to be on either side of me. I looked to my left, seeing a blond man in a white t-shirt grinning at me something wicked.

He blew a kiss and I cut the wheel once more, slamming into him, before a delightful idea took root in my gray-matter.

I immediately began searching my jacket pockets for my Zippo.