บท 4: Chapter 4: The Veil Begins to Lift
London's streets surged with a restless energy, a chaotic symphony of hurried footsteps and fragmented conversations. Jack wove through the throng, his nerves strung tight as a bowstring. His right hand stayed buried deep in his coat pocket, fingers locked around the hilt of a knife.
Every face in the crowd seemed a potential threat. Every movement whispered of danger. Was someone watching him? The thought gnawed at his mind like a parasite.
Crowds were foreign territory—too exposed, too unpredictable. But with no cabs stopping and the clock ticking, Jack had no choice but to press on.
A flash of movement caught his eye—a man brushing past, his sleeve hitching just enough to reveal a tattoo: a serpent coiled around a dagger.
Jack's stomach twisted into a knot.
"Wardens," he muttered under his breath, his steps faltering.
The Wardens weren't just another gang. Their name carried weight in the city's shadows, whispered like a curse. Criminals, yes, but the rumors ran deeper—strange powers, impossible feats. Jack had no intention of finding out if those whispers were true.
He quickened his pace, gripping the knife tighter as if the handle could anchor his thoughts. King's Road loomed ahead, and soon he stood before a nondescript gray door marked 22B.
Jack hesitated, the air heavier here, as though the street itself held its breath. His instincts screamed at him to walk away.
What am I walking into?
No time for second thoughts. He rapped on the door, three sharp knocks.
"Who is it?" came a man's voice, low and wary.
Jack froze. A man? That wasn't part of the plan.
The door creaked open before he could decide what to do.
"Hey."
Emma stood in the doorway, her casual attire—a white shirt and jeans—at odds with the tension crackling in the air. She ran a hand through her hair, offering a faint, apologetic smile.
"Sorry about this," she said, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. "We can't talk here. There's a bar down the street. It's usually empty around now. Let's go."
Jack blinked, thrown by her composure. Before he could respond, she added, "Let me grab my coat." She disappeared back inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Jack shifted uneasily, scanning the street for potential threats. His instincts screamed that something was off.
The man appeared next—a broad-shouldered figure in a tank top, leaning against the doorway with arms crossed. His sharp gaze sized Jack up like a butcher weighing meat.
"Who are you, mate?" the man asked, his voice low and edged with menace.
Jack didn't flinch, but his heart thudded harder as his eyes flicked to the tattoo coiled around the man's forearm.
Wardens.
"I'm a frien—" Jack began, but the words caught in his throat.
The man stepped closer, his presence suffocating. Jack's pulse quickened as he considered his options.
"Elijah, back off." Emma's voice cut through the tension. She reappeared, coat draped over her arm, and shot the man a scolding glance. "Sorry about my brother. He's… protective."
"I'm not protective," Elijah growled, his glare fixed on Jack. "I just don't trust strangers sniffing around my sister."
"It's not a date," Emma snapped, exasperated. "It's business. I'll be fine."
Elijah's scrutiny didn't falter. Jack could feel the weight of his stare long after Emma grabbed his hand and tugged him down the street.
As they walked, Jack stole a glance at her. There was something disarming about her—a quiet confidence that clashed with the chaos around them. But trust didn't come easy.
The farther they walked, the more Jack noticed men lingering in the shadows of alleyways, their eyes tracking them. His hand hovered near his knife, every muscle coiled, while Emma remained unbothered, as if the city's predators didn't exist.
Finally, they reached the bar, an unassuming dive with dim windows and peeling paint. Inside, the place was nearly empty, save for a bartender polishing glasses behind the counter.
"Want anything?" Emma asked as they slid into a booth.
"No," Jack replied tersely.
Emma chuckled, signaling for a bottle of scotch and two glasses. She poured them each a shot and nudged one toward him.
"Trust me," she said, a wry smile playing on her lips. "You'll need it."
Jack hesitated, then took the glass, watching as Emma threw hers back with practiced ease. Reluctantly, he followed suit, the burn of the alcohol grounding him.
"So," he said, setting the empty glass down. "What do you know about me?"
Emma smirked, pouring another round. "Do you believe in the supernatural, Jack? In gods and demons?"
His eyes narrowed. "After what I've been through? I don't know what to believe anymore."
Emma leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You're what we call a critical being—someone who holds the balance of the world in their hands."
Jack didn't flinch. "Weird, but not crazier than dying over and over," he muttered, downing the second shot.
"Fair enough." Emma smiled. "What do you know about the Houndstooth?"
"They're a secret organization running London," Jack said flatly, refilling his glass.
"They're more than that," Emma corrected, her tone grim. "They've ruled civilization for millennia—since the Mayans. They're fallen gods, Jack, twisted and hungry. They hunt people like you. But you've survived longer than anyone before you."
Her words settled over him like a storm cloud. Jack poured another shot and swallowed it without hesitation.
"Why tell me this?" he asked, his voice tight.
Emma rolled up her sleeve, revealing the tattoo: the serpent and dagger. Jack's muscles coiled as his hand darted toward his knife.
"Relax," Emma said evenly. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have made it to the bar."
Jack froze, his gaze flicking between the tattoo and her face.
"The Wardens aren't what you think," she continued, opening her palm. A small flame danced in her hand, flickering like a living thing. "We're not criminals. We're protectors. We control the underworld because we have to. Without us, the Houndstooth would've found you long ago."
Jack stared at the flame, its warmth undeniable, before meeting her gaze.
"And if I join you?" he asked.
Emma's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Then I'll teach you how to harness magic like this."
Jack studied her for a long moment, searching for cracks in her facade. Finding none, he gave a sharp nod.
"Fine," he said. "I'm in."
Emma extinguished the flame with a flick of her wrist, her smile widening. "Welcome to the Wardens."
For the first time in weeks, Jack felt something other than fear. It wasn't quite hope—but it was close.
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