They Who Slaughtered Hope 🌈| Slow Updates/Editing

Chapter 19

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𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚡

┗━━━༻✿༺━━━┛

𝘖𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 31𝘴𝘵, 𝘛𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺

"Hey, you wanna grab coffee with me?"

Lennox glanced up from his fortress of ledgers and post-it notes, hoisting himself above the mountain of receipts and past-due bills. It didn't take much for him to slip and fall. Papers fluttered to the ground before he could see Ren at the room's threshold.

He surveyed his mess. "Uh... I'll have to decline. I have to finish my accounting for the month."

"A shame, really. Should I pick something up for you while I'm there?" he offered, sitting on the only uncovered corner of the desk. The fountain pen he had grabbed grew dizzy from his relentless spinning.

"I don't see why not. The blacker, the better, if you can. I'll be at this for a while. Next door has great prices on espresso-based drinks." Lennox reached up, the tips of his fingers brushing against Ren's as the florist retrieved his writing utensil.

Images, blurry and overlapping his vision, flashed through his mind, jarring his subconscious with memories that were unfamiliar to him. Memories of a rain-soaked cathedral. Hands touching, like now, but in a night of the past. Raindrops echoed in Lennox's ears as he focused on what he was holding—not a pen, but a pill bottle.

Yet the figure he faced stayed the same.

Ren backed towards the stairs, fleeing from the prolonged contact. "Thanks for the tip. I'll get going then."

Lennox didn't watch him leave, left with his thoughts and the problematic pen. Instead, he opted to count the month's earnings. The answers to the mysterious cash influx were tantalisingly close, almost as if they were whispering in his ear, practically begging to be discovered. The mystery, once shrouded in layers of confusion and doubt, was now on the verge of being unravelled.

So Lennox counted. He sat down with the stacks of cash, his fingers deftly flipping through the notes. Each count was a step closer to freedom, each addition a brick in the foundation of his new life.

He added and averaged, his mind working like a well-oiled machine. The numbers danced before his eyes, forming patterns and sequences that only he could understand. And then, after what felt like an eternity, Lennox realised the truth. The money and numbers he had scrutinised for so long, the figures that had kept him awake at night, had finally given him what he needed—enough to leave London, for good.

It was barely enough, but it was sufficient. He could make it happen tonight if he wanted. They could leave, him and Chase. They could start anew, far away from the life they had known.

All Hallow's Eve, with its eerie silence and shadowy figures, was the perfect cover-up. The Brotherhood, with their watchful eyes and suspicious minds, would think they were killed. They would mourn their loss, oblivious to the truth.

Sudden vestiges of hope filled Lennox; a warmth that spread through his veins, igniting a spark of excitement. Finally, the day had come. The day he had been waiting for, the day he had dreamed of, was here.

Yet, amidst the hope and excitement, Lennox was met with an unexpected uncertainty. A nagging doubt tugged at the corners of his mind, casting a shadow over his newfound hope. It was a feeling he couldn't shake off.

What would happen to Renato if they left? Lennox couldn't just abandon him, but he didn't have enough money to take him with them... More than that, why did the florist find himself caring for Ren's well-being?