Cinders of the Conspiracy

Chapter 7

Ambushed in the Dark.

The passageway was chilly, and the stifling silence was drowned out by the distant buzz of cars. With their backs to the brick wall, Silas and Eleanor breathed in unison and shallowly. The footsteps that had previously followed them ceased, and a dense silence took their place.

A man with an intimidating silhouette in the low light stepped out of the shadows. He took a step closer, a stray gleam of moonlight striking the shine of a sword. His eyes were calculating and his face was keen, like a predator evaluating its prey.

The man's voice sounded like gravel scraping metal when he muttered, "I'll say this once." "Close the case. Leave. Or I'll make sure you two don't go anywhere ever again.

Beside Silas, Eleanor stiffened, her fingers clenching his arm. Unfazed, Silas straightened, his features etched in stone. "Threats don't work on me," he said in a tone that was surprisingly composed. "You've wasted your evening if you came to frighten us away."

The man gave a low, sardonic laugh. Do you believe this to be a game? Hartwell doesn't engage in gaming. You won't simply die if you trespass in an area where you don't belong. You'll regret not being.

With a subtle gesture toward his coat pocket, Silas grinned. "Better men have told me worse things. Would you like to try again?

The man's face clouded, and then he suddenly swung forward, the blade shining. Eleanor was pushed behind him by Silas, who moved into the attacker's path. Silas ducked as the knife arced at him, slicing through the void.

Silas snarled and used his forearm to block the next blow, saying, "You're making a mistake." "One you won't regret in your lifetime."

As the two guys circled one another, tension igniting in the tight lane, Eleanor stared, her heart racing. The attacker appeared to become even more enraged by Silas's defiance.

Steel and flesh clashed, bringing the alley to life with the sound of their struggle. Silas moved with accuracy, every hit and dodge guided by his years of honed survival instincts. Despite his competence, his attacker was overconfident, telegraphing his wide strikes.

Eleanor was squatting behind a garbage can, breathing rapidly. Her hands shaking, her eyes darting between the fighters. After making a leftward feint, Silas punched the man in the stomach, causing him to stumble back. The sound of the knife hitting the pavement was sharp as it clattered to the ground.

With a swift recovery, the man sprang forward once more, his fists flying. With his teeth clenched against the pain, Silas took a hit to the shoulder before slamming the man's head back with a vicious uppercut. The assailant stumbled but did not fall, his face contorted with rage.

Silas yelled, "Stay down," in a chilly tone. "You don't end up well with this."

However, the man resisted, his disobedience propelling him ahead again. Silas caught his arm and gave it a swift twist, sidestepping his frantic swing. The man shouted out and fell to his knees as a horrible crack reverberated.

The attacker was alerted by Eleanor's gasp, which cut through the confusion. His eyes glinted sinisterly as he fixed them on her. Silas pounded his knee into the man's chest, flattening him before he could move.

Silas snarled, towering over the vanquished creature, "Enough." His gaze softened somewhat as he glanced at Eleanor. "Are you alright?"

Her eyes were wide as she gave a shaky nod. "I believe so."

Silas saw a flash of metal close to the man's hand as he writhed on the ground. A key. His mind whirling, he picked it up without hesitation. This individual has ties to something bigger than just being a paid criminal.

Silas grabbed Eleanor's arm and dragged her to her feet, saying, "Let's go." The man's curses reverberated behind them as they ran down the alley.

"Now what?" Eleanor looked over her shoulder and panted.

Silas clenched his hand around the key, refusing to respond. This brought Hartwell's web one step closer to being untangled, regardless of the door it opened. It was just the beginning of the trouble.

Silas turned the key in his hand, and it glinted in the faint streetlamp. Although its elaborate design suggested significance, its exact function was unknown. A few feet away, Eleanor stood with her arms firmly encircling her body and her eyes darting anxiously to the shadowed nooks and crannies of the road.

Her voice could almost be heard over the distant buzz of traffic as she whispered gently, "What do you think it opens?"

Silas' thoughts were racing as he looked over the key once more, so he didn't respond right once. It was heavier than it appeared, the sort of thing someone would keep close to anything valuable. "Something significant," he whispered. Why he had it is the question. And why did he want to hide it from us so badly?

With hesitation, Eleanor moved closer, her gaze focused on the key. Could it be a trap? Something that will take us directly to Hartwell?

Silas gave her a quick glance, his face inscrutable. There's always a chance. However, we cannot overlook it if it is connected to Hartwell. It could be the only lead we have.

Even though the night wasn't too cold, Eleanor shivered. "I detest this," she said. "We have no idea what awaits us at the next turn."

Silas's eyes hardened as he pocketed the key. "We will not succeed if we are afraid. We must be ahead of the game if we hope to discover the truth.

The faint sound of footsteps behind them cut off their discourse. Eleanor tensed up, looking over her shoulder with wary eyes. "Hear that?" she said in a whisper.

Silas tensed as he nodded. He put a comforting hand on her arm and led her to the exit of the alley. "Remain near," he whispered. "And don't say anything."

The steady, purposeful pattern of the footfall increased in volume, giving them each a rush of excitement.

As they arrived at the alley's mouth, Silas looked around the street for any movement. The area was empty but for the flickering glimmer of a neon sign in the distance. With her heart thumping in her chest, Eleanor held on to his side.

Her voice trembled as she questioned, "What now?"

With narrowed brows, Silas took the key out of his pocket and gave it another look. A faint engraving a number engraved into the metal was lightly touched by his thumb on the grip. His jaw tensed when he finally recognized it, but it took a time.

"It's a hotel tag," he stated in a somber tone. "Room 214."

Eleanor's gaze expanded. "A lodging facility? Do you believe ?

Silas interrupted her with a head shake, saying, "Not here." We are unable to speak here. Let's get going.

A shadow moved close by before they could go another step, and the sound of a weapon being cocked was heard faintly. When the figure appeared out of the shadows, they froze, their instincts screaming danger.

With a voice full of threat, the man snarled, "You shouldn't have taken that key."