2024-12-30 23:13:31
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Get Ready For Allvar Falck's Ruthless Return 221
221The dealer straightened up, a smug expression crossing his face. “Madam, I assure you, this clock is not counterfeit. Its craftsmanship alone is worth far more than what I’m asking. I cannot sell it for less than $100,000. Not a cent less.”The woman’s sharp features darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s absurd,” she snapped. “You’ve been dragging this out for long enough. Who in their right mind would pay that much for an old clock?”The dealer leaned forward slightly, placing his hands on the counter, his tone dripping with mock patience. “Perhaps someone who recognizes value when they see it, madam. This is no ordinary clock. It’s the best you’ll find in this entire city. And frankly,” he added, glancing at the time on his wristwatch, “I don’t have time to debate with you any further. Take it or leave it.”The woman’s gaze flickered toward the clock, her frustration evident as she clenched her sleek black wallet tighter. “You’re really not going to budge, are yo
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222The growing tension in the shop had not gone unnoticed. Several customers, who had been quietly browsing the shelves of antique trinkets and vintage furniture, began to shift their attention to the escalating argument. Murmurs rippled through the room as they exchanged glances, intrigued by Alvar’s boldness.A middle-aged man near a display of ornate vases cleared his throat loudly. “Well, this is something you don’t see every day,” he remarked to no one in particular, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and disbelief.“Certainly not in a place like this,” replied a younger woman standing beside him. She was holding a dusty book, her lips curling into a small smile. “Who knew antique shops could be so entertaining?”The older woman clutching a delicate porcelain figurine shook her head disapprovingly. “Young man, you should mind your business,” she said, her tone stern as she glanced at Alvar. “This lady is perfectly capable of making her own decisions without your interference.
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223The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, and Allvar could feel the eyes of the room on him. The woman who had been considering buying the clock shot him a suspicious look before speaking up, her voice dripping with annoyance."Fine," she said, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "If you're so sure this clock isn't worth the price, then prove it. Get it appraised."Allvar’s gaze flickered over to Howard, who stood behind the counter, his face a mixture of defiance and growing discomfort. The dealer took a step back, his shoulders stiffening as if trying to distance himself from the idea of having his prized item scrutinized. For a moment, he didn’t respond, instead tightening his jaw and glaring at the room."No need for that," Howard muttered, his voice low but clearly audible. "This clock speaks for itself."The younger man in the leather jacket snorted from the corner, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. "Maybe it speaks for itself, but I don't think it's saying
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224He stormed over to the counter, his boots tapping loudly against the worn wooden floor, the noise echoing in the small, cluttered shop. His eyes flicked over the mess of papers and trinkets strewn across the surface, as though searching for something that might explain the inexplicable situation. Howard muttered to himself, shuffling through the stack of documents as his fingers fumbled with the papers. His frustration was palpable, but he said nothing to the woman still standing near the counter, clutching the old clock with trembling hands."Do you really think it’s fake?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible as she watched Allvar, her eyes shifting between him and the clock.Allvar turned towards her, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. "I wouldn’t be this confident if I wasn’t sure," he said, his tone calm yet firm. "But don’t take my word for it. Let the experts tell you." He gestured to the papers on the counter, trying to mask the frustration that simmered just
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225 The room was oppressively still, the weight of Mr. Larson's verdict pressing down on everyone like a suffocating fog. A collective gasp rippled through the shop as the crowd absorbed the revelation. Allvar’s eyes glinted with quiet triumph, though his face remained composed. He stood back, letting the unfolding chaos speak louder than any words he might offer. Howard was paralyzed, his face drained of all color. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, but no sound came. His fists were clenched so tightly that the veins bulged on his hands. Gone was the swaggering bravado of the dealer; now, he looked like a desperate, cornered animal, his carefully constructed pride crumbling before the crowd. “No!” Howard suddenly shouted, his voice cracking like a broken bell. “It can’t be! This clock—this piece is one of a kind! You can’t just say it’s fake!” His voice wavered, each word soaked with desperation. Yet the uncertainty in his tone betrayed him. “Fake?” a man nea
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226“Oh, don’t go quiet now!” she continued, her voice rising with every word. “You had plenty to say when you were singing the praises of this trash. ‘A one-of-a-kind masterpiece,’ wasn’t it? ‘Worth every penny,’ you said! Turns out it’s barely worth the wood it’s made of!”“I—I didn’t know,” Howard stammered, his voice barely audible. His eyes darted nervously around the room, seeking even a sliver of support from the gathering crowd. “I swear, I didn’t know!”“Didn’t know?” she echoed, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she raised the offending clock in her hand for everyone to see. “You’re the expert antique dealer, aren’t you? Isn’t it your job to know?”“Exactly!” someone from the crowd chimed in, a young man near the back. “How can he not know? Either he’s lying, or he’s incompetent. Either way, he’s got no business running this shop!”A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. People shuffled closer, forming a semi-circle around Howard as if preparing for his public trial
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227Howard's breath came in ragged gasps as the last of the crowd trickled out of the shop. The once-bustling space, filled with chatter and sharp accusations, now felt desolate and heavy, as though the very air bore witness to his humiliation. His pride lay in tatters, his reputation shattered. His trembling hands gripped the edge of the counter as he fought to steady himself.The quiet, deliberate sound of footsteps behind him made his stomach churn. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Allvar’s presence was unmistakable, his calm demeanor like salt on an open wound.“You’re still here?” Howard muttered, his voice hoarse. He didn’t bother looking back, focusing instead on the worn wooden surface in front of him.“Still here,” Allvar replied evenly, his voice carrying an infuriating tranquility. “Unlike your so-called loyal customers. What a shame, Howard. They didn’t even bother to thank you for the show.”Howard clenched the counter tighter, his knuckles white against
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228“Ah, there it is again,” Allvar interrupted smoothly, holding up a finger. “The great Howard Sinclair, victim of circumstance. Tell me, do you ever get tired of playing that role? Or is it just too convenient?”“I’m telling the truth!” Howard insisted, his voice rising. “I didn’t know—”“And yet here we are,” Allvar said, stepping away from the counter and walking toward Howard. His steps were slow, deliberate, his presence suddenly imposing. “Customers furious, your name dragged through the mud, and your precious reputation crumbling before your eyes.”Howard backed up slightly, bumping against the counter. “I— I was trying to save the shop,” he stammered, his desperation evident. “Do you know what it’s like to struggle every day, to fight to keep something alive?”“Save the shop,” Allvar repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. “That’s your excuse? You were trying to save the shop, so you what, decided to sell counterfeit antiques? Brilliant plan, Howard. Truly inspired.”“I di
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298Allvar didn’t answer right away. His mind was working, trying to come up with a way out, a plan, anything. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he could escape. The pain from the slap still throbbed in his jaw, and the ropes around his wrists were too tight to slip free from. His muscles burned, his body heavy with fatigue from the earlier struggles.Tobias waited, watching him carefully. “Nothing to say? Interesting.”Allvar glared at him, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His thoughts raced, trying to formulate a plan. But Tobias’s mocking gaze made it hard to focus. He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together.“You’re not going to win,” Allvar said quietly, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed it himself. “This will end. It always does.”Tobias chuckled darkly, his voice low and dripping with amusement. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”Allvar couldn’t help but snap. The frustration, the anger, it all welled up inside of him. “Why don’t you just get it o
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297The stocky man shrugged. “Told you. He’s—”Without warning, Tobias slapped Allvar across the face, the sharp crack echoing through the warehouse. Allvar’s head snapped to the side, and a groan escaped his lips. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused.“There he is,” Tobias said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. He crouched down again, grabbing Allvar by the chin and forcing him to look up. “Welcome back, Allvar. Did you have a nice nap?”Allvar winced, his jaw throbbing from the slap. He tried to pull away, but Tobias’s grip tightened. “Go to hell,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.Tobias chuckled darkly. “Oh, you’ve got some fight left in you. Good. I’d hate for this to be too easy.”The tall man and the stocky one snickered behind him, but Tobias silenced them with a sharp look. “You two—stand back. I’ll handle this.”They nodded quickly, retreating a few steps but staying close enough to watch.Tobias turned his attention back to Allvar, his expression turning
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296The group moved quickly through the damp alley, their prisoner slumped between the tall man and the stocky one. Allvar’s body hung limply, his head drooping as though unconscious. His feet dragged against the ground, leaving faint streaks of blood in their wake. The men didn’t seem to care, their focus solely on bringing him to Tobias."Pick up the pace," the tall man growled, his voice sharp with irritation. His eyes darted ahead, scanning the darkened alley for any signs of danger. "Boss doesn’t like waiting."The stocky man grunted in annoyance. "What’s the rush? He’s not going anywhere. Look at him—barely breathing.""Yeah? And whose fault will it be if he dies before Tobias gets a word out of him?" the tall man snapped, shooting his partner a glare that could cut through steel. His grip tightened on Allvar’s arm as if to emphasize the point.The stocky man let out an exasperated sigh but said nothing. "Not my problem," he muttered under his breath, though his eyes flicked to
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295“Careful,” the tall man said mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t want him bleeding out before Tobias sees him.”Weston chuckled, shaking Allvar’s limp arm. “Bleeding out?” he scoffed. “Look at him. He’s practically swimming in his own blood already. Tobias’ll think we hit a slaughterhouse on the way.”Allvar could barely make out their words through the haze of pain, his vision blurring in and out. His muscles trembled, but he held on, fighting against the darkness threatening to swallow him whole. He clenched his teeth and managed to grunt, though his words came out in a painful rasp. “You… won’t win,” he hissed, barely audible, but enough to taunt them.The tall man stopped in his tracks, turning to lean down toward Allvar. He moved slowly, his breath hot and foul against Allvar’s ear as he whispered. “Win?” The man’s voice was thick with amusement. “Oh, Allvar, we already have. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”Weston snorted behind him, clearly enjoying the
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294The sound of heavy boots brought Allvar back from the brink of unconsciousness. His body felt like it was being torn apart, each movement sending fresh waves of agony through his limbs. His skin was slick with sweat, his breath ragged and shallow. He stirred slightly, barely able to move, and his surroundings swam in and out of focus.The storage closet was still cloaked in darkness, a suffocating void of silence and pain. Allvar tried to push himself up, but his strength failed him. His head was pounding, and his body was weak from the beating he had taken earlier. He could hear the footsteps now, their rhythm echoing through the narrow space. The voices outside were unmistakably closer, too close.“Check that door again,” barked one of the men, his voice sharp with authority.“All right, all right,” came the response, gruff and impatient. “You checked it five minutes ago, Holt. He’s not Houdini. He’s not gonna vanish into thin air.”“You checked it, but you didn’t check it right
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293Desperation coursed through him, pushing him forward once more, despite the pain, despite the blood dripping down his side. Every movement burned, but stopping wasn’t an option. His breaths came short and fast, his chest heaving with the effort.“It’s not… it’s not far…” Allvar rasped, though he knew he was lying to himself. His body was failing him, and he could feel it. He was slowing down, his legs refusing to carry him any further. Every step felt like an eternity, his boots dragging against the uneven pavement.A voice in his head screamed at him to stop, to rest, to let the pain win. But he shook his head violently, gritting his teeth. "No… not yet," he hissed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart in his ears.The narrow alley stretched endlessly ahead of him, the shadows swallowing the dim light of the flickering streetlamps. The air smelled of damp concrete and rot, and the walls seemed to close in tighter with every step he took.“Where is it?” he mutte
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292Allvar’s legs screamed in agony as he forced himself to move, each step like a hot iron being driven into his muscles. The bleeding from the stab wound in his side had slowed to a steady trickle, but the pain was unbearable, gnawing at him with every breath. He could feel the blood soaking into his shirt, warm and sticky, as it ran down his torso.He had to keep going.“Move, damn it,” he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth. “Just one more step. One more…”But his body wasn’t listening. Each movement felt heavier, slower. Tobias’s men were closing in, their footsteps echoing through the narrow alleyways like death’s march. He couldn’t afford to stop, couldn’t let them get close enough to see the blood. If they saw it, they’d know how weak he was.Allvar glanced over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the darkened streets. “Where the hell are they?” he whispered, his voice trembling. The night was too quiet. He could hear his own heart pounding, erratic and loud, in his ears
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291“They’re getting closer,” Allvar repeated, his voice laced with desperation as he stumbled forward, his gaze darting over his shoulder. The faint echo of footsteps reverberated in the cold night air, sending a shiver down his spine. His stomach churned as the realization hit him—Tobias’s men were closing in, and his options were running out.“This can’t be it,” he muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. “I can’t let him win. Not like this.”The sound of footsteps grew louder, more distinct. Allvar’s eyes darted to the left, then the right, scanning the maze of narrow alleyways and shadowed buildings. Every pathway seemed to stretch into endless darkness, and every corner felt like a potential ambush. He forced himself to make a choice, lunging toward a dimly lit alley to his left.“You’re wasting time,” he hissed to himself. “Move, Allvar. Move!”His boots pounded against the uneven ground as he sprinted forward, his breaths ragged and sharp in the icy air. His heart hammer
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290The men scrambled to comply, their fear propelling them into action. But Tobias wasn’t finished. His eyes locked onto one of them, the closest to him, as he advanced slowly, his footsteps deliberate and menacing.“You,” Tobias spat, his voice like ice. “You were supposed to keep him contained. What the hell happened?”The man’s breath hitched as he swallowed hard, eyes darting nervously. “I—I’m sorry, Tobias,” he stammered, taking a hesitant step back, his body tense, as though he were anticipating the strike. “We didn’t—”Before the man could finish, Tobias’s hand shot out, the blade flashing in the low light. He didn’t hesitate. The knife buried itself deep into the man’s neck with a sickening sound, blood spraying across the floor. A gurgling sound escaped the man’s throat as he collapsed to the ground, his hands twitching desperately in his final moments.The remaining men froze, their eyes wide in horror. The air in the room thickened, filled with the scent of blood and terro
