Chapter #4

Freya pulled her coat tighter as they walked through the quiet streets of London. The chill in the air felt sharper now, sinking through the fabric. Sid kept looking over his shoulder, his uneasiness clear. 

"That place back there…" he began, his voice low. "Do you think it's got anything to do with Timothy?" 

Freya didn't answer right away. Her mind raced, the strange silence of the guests, the fake, practiced smiles of the staff. It didn't feel like a coincidence. 

"Perhaps," she said at last. "But we need more information before we go back." 

The Bloomsbury Hotel came into view, a tall, glowing building standing out against the dark streets. Warm light sprouting from the large windows, and the faint sounds of conversation and clinking glasses floated out. Freya let out a slow breath, glad to be somewhere normal for once. 

Inside, the hotel lobby was buzzing with life. People were chatting by the bar, and the rich scent of coffee mixed with perfume filled the air. Freya walked straight to the check-in desk, her eyes scanning the room. Sid hovered near the entrance, still glancing nervously behind them. 

"Two rooms," she said to the clerk, sliding her credit card across the counter. 

The woman smiled and typed something quickly into the computer. "Of course, Ms. Aldeno," she said, reading the name on the card. She handed over two keys. "Enjoy your stay." 

Freya nodded and took the keys. She and Sid headed upstairs without saying a word. 

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Freya sat at the small desk in her room, a map of London spread out before her. Sid sat cross-legged on the bed, his tablet on his lap as he typed furiously. 

"So," he said, glancing up. "The Rosewood Inn isn't on any tourist maps. It's registered as a private lodging house, but the records are… weird." 

"Weird how?" Freya asked, her focus still on the map. 

"There's no owner listed, just a company name: Rosewood Holdings Limited. But here's the thing-" He turned the tablet to show her. "The company doesn't really exist. No tax filings, no business records, no website.... nothing. It's like it's a front for something else." 

Freya leaned back, her eyes narrowing. "And the people in the lobby?" 

Sid shrugged. "Could be brainwashed, drugged..... I'm not sure" 

Freya's jaw tightened. "We'll need to go back. But not without a plan. I don't want to walk into whatever that was without backup." 

Sid frowned. "Backup? I thought our resources here were limited." 

"They are." Freya reached for her phone. "But Cathleen will have contacts. She'll send someone." 

Sid didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue. 

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Rosewood Inn, the man at the desk stood perfectly still, his hands folded in front of him. His expression was calm, too calm, like someone trying to remain perfectly composed. 

The guests sat quietly in their chairs; their smiles frozen in place. None of them spoke, and none of them moved. 

From somewhere deep in the building, a soft humming sound filled the air. It was low, almost like a vibration, but it carried through the walls. 

The man behind the desk blinked slowly, his gaze lingering on nothing in particular. It wasn't a casual blink; it felt like a moment of deep concentration, as if he was resetting himself, locking away some part of his mind. When his eyes opened again, they were just as empty as before, his face returning to its unreadable calm. 

Freya couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, but she didn't want to alarm Sid. She led him out of the lobby, but her eyes kept darting back to the man at the desk. His expression never changed; his hands still perfectly placed in front of him. The lobby felt more like a trap. 

As the door swung open, the cold air rushed in, clearing the strange sense of stillness that had settled in her chest. Sid, still uncomfortable, looked over his shoulder as they stepped into the street. 

"Where are we headed now?"

Freya nodded, her eyes scanning the dimly lit streets. The city felt different now, quieter, almost as if it were holding its breath. "Now, we need answers, not distractions. We'll circle back to it later." 

They kept walking, the weight of the night pressing down on them. The air was colder than before, the streets emptier. As they passed a few closed shops and homes, Freya noticed something strange, a figure standing under a dim streetlamp, motionless. She stopped and squinted, but by the time she took a step forward, the figure was gone. 

Sid followed her gaze, but it was too late. "What?" 

"I don't know," Freya replied, her pulse quickening. She wasn't sure if it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but she couldn't ignore the unease settling deeper into her bones. "Keep your eyes open. We're being watched." 

They pressed on, moving quickly now, their footsteps echoing in the silence. The distant sound of traffic was almost comforting, but it didn't erase the feeling that they weren't alone. 

The Rosewood Inn had left a strange mark on Freya's mind. She knew something was hidden there, but she didn't know what. Yet. 

As they reached a corner, a car pulled up beside them. Freya instinctively tensed, her hand brushing the gun at her side. 

The window rolled down, revealing a woman with sharp features and a smug look. "Freya, right?" she asked, her tone neutral. 

Freya's instincts flared. "Who's asking?" 

The woman's gaze shifted between Freya and Sid before she gave a slight nod. "I'm here to help. Get in." 

Freya hesitated. The woman wasn't one of their own, and in a city like this, you could never be too careful. But the desperation in her voice, like she had something important to tell them, made Freya's decision for her. 

Sid gave her a questioning look, but she only offered a quick nod in return. They got in, and the car pulled away. 

As it drove through the streets, the woman didn't speak for a while. When she did, her voice was low, almost conspiratorial. "You're looking for Timothy Banks, aren't you?" 

Freya's attention snapped to her. "What do you know about him?" 

The woman's lips twitched into a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "More than you think."