Recollection

forty-three | The Hallow Syndicate

song: The Neighbourhood - Afraid

[I've been looking for a song for this chapter for 25 minutes!!! I just put the one I had on repeat while writing. Any recommendations are greatly welcome]

TW: metions of human trafficing

When I pulled the car into the gravel parking lot across from Incantesimi, I turned toward Rosalyn. She was already looking at me, her face shadowed with worry. The tension between us was thick, and I knew she could sense what was coming.

"I need you to do something for me," I said quietly, breaking the silence.

"What?" Her voice was wary and a little too loud in the stillness of the car.

I hesitated, gripping the steering wheel tightly before releasing it. "I need you to stay in the car and call Atticus or Roman." My words came out firm, leaving no room for argument.

"What? No. Lia, I don't want you to go in there alone," she protested, her voice shaking slightly. "You said you know him. You said—"

"Rosalyn, listen to me." I reached out and grabbed her hand, forcing her to focus on me. My voice softened, but my tone remained resolute. "You need to do exactly what I say. I don't know what he wants. I don't know if someone sent him or if there's something hanging over his head. I can't take that risk. You can't come inside."

Her eyes glistened, wide with fear. "But—"

"No," I cut her off, my grip tightening on her hand. "Lock the doors and stay here. Call Atticus. Call Roman. But whatever you do, don't come inside. Do you hear me?"

She nodded reluctantly, her lip trembling as she looked down at our joined hands.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and released her. "Good. I'm leaving the gun with you, just in case." I pulled the weapon from my side and placed it on the center console. Her gaze flicked to it, then back to me.

"What about you?" she whispered.

I reached down to my calf, feeling the reassuring weight of the dagger strapped there. "I'll be fine," I said, trying to sound convincing. "I always am."

I got out of the car, the chill of the night biting at my skin, and turned back to check on Rosalyn. She was watching me through the window, her face pale and drawn. I waited until she locked the doors before I allowed myself to turn away.

As I walked toward the entrance of Incantesimi, I couldn't shake the image of her sitting there, gripping the gun with trembling hands. But there was no time for second-guessing.

The bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside, and the familiar scent of coffee and freshly baked sweets enveloped me. The shop was quiet, dimly lit except for the warm glow of a few hanging lanterns. My boots echoed against the tiled floor as I moved deeper into the space, my eyes scanning every corner.