Old No.7 | An Alastor x Reader Story

Eggshells

The next few days felt like walking on eggshells. Everyone from Ian and Lester to the new bartender and the waitresses constantly threw wary looks at the door every time there was a slight sound. We all knew the risks we had taken when the flame had devoured the warehouse. 

Alastor and I had locked ourselves in my office, going over some intelligence a few of my spies had gathered. There were detailed reports tracking the whereabouts of Remus and McKenny's crews. Perched in Alastor's lap, I read through a report outlining the latest shipment McKenny's goons made at a rundown bar on the south end of the Pentagram. 

With his arm wrapped around my waist and his head leaning against my shoulder, Alastor listened as I read the report out loud. It may have sounded mundane to the average ear, but there was a well known firearm supplier near their dropoff point. 

I had just picked up another report, this one concerning a meeting with a butcher shop when a loud bang from downstairs caught my attention. Ears pricked, we listened for another sound. It was quiet for a few heartbeats, then all hell seemed to break loose beneath the floorboards.