Ambush

Aldwyn's boots clicked against the floor as he followed the sway of her hips down a hallway lined with doors, each one a gateway to a different kind of sin. The air grew heavier with each step, the whispers and giggles behind the doors a stark reminder of the desperate humanity that sought refuge here. Finally, they stopped in front of a door with a small plaque that read "Siora."

The receptionist knocked once, then opened the door with a flourish. Inside, the room was bathed in candlelight, casting flickering shadows across the velvet-covered walls. A young woman lay on a four-poster bed, her hair a waterfall of silver-blonde curls, her eyes a smoky gray that matched the room's atmosphere. She was dressed in a sheer, almost translucent gown that clung to her body like a second skin.

Siora looked up as Aldwyn entered, her expression a mix of curiosity and wariness. She sat up slowly, the fabric of her gown shifting to reveal the curve of her breasts. "You're not here for the usual," she said, her voice a smoky drawl. "What do you want?"

„She could recognize that?" Aldwyn was shocked at her perceptiveness and at the same time thought to himself, what kind of people usually come here?

The receptionist placed a gentle hand on Aldwyn's shoulder. "Give her a moment to get ready," she said, her smile not quite meeting her eyes. "Wait here while she gets ready, she'll be with you in a few minutes."

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Aldwyn in the dimly lit chamber, surrounded by the whispers of silk and shadows. He took in the details of the room, his eyes scanning the candlelit space. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and jasmine, and the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of passion and power. The bed was a sea of velvet and silk, but he remained standing.

„Everything about this is suspicious... If this is her room, why does she have to get ready somewhere else?" He thought to himself.

When the door opened behind him, he realized that something was wrong. Two men dressed in suits, their faces twisted into snarls, entered the room. Their eyes were cold, their movements predatory. They didn't look like they were there to discuss the weather.

„So it's a trap... As expected, they're hiding something. But my senses tell me that they are not dangerous." He analyzed in his head before turning around.

The two men didn't move, their eyes locked on him. They were clearly thugs, the kind that didn't bother to hide their true intentions behind a facade of hospitality.

Aldwyn took a deep breath, his silver eyes flashing in the candlelight. He could feel the shadows around him, drawn to his will like moths to a flame. He wrapped both his hands in the inky darkness and rushed towards the men, his movements a blur.

The thugs had no time to react before his fists slammed into their stomachs with the force of a freight train. The air left their lungs in pained grunts, their bodies doubling over as if they'd been punched by a creature twice their size. The shadows clung to their forms for a brief moment, feeding on their fear and pain before dissipating.

Aldwyn stepped over their crumpled forms, the sound of his boots echoing through the corridor. The receptionist had disappeared, leaving him to navigate the labyrinth of opulence and despair on his own.

Another figure emerged from the shadows, brandishing a baton. The man's eyes were like two burning embers, full of rage and malice. He lunged at Aldwyn with surprising agility, the weapon aiming for his skull. But Aldwyn was ready.

He blocked the attack with his left hand, the sound of bone on metal echoing through the narrow corridor. His reflexes were lightning-quick, a testament to his brutal training. The thug's face twisted in surprise and pain as Aldwyn's hand wrapped around his wrist, twisting it with a vicious strength that made the baton clatter to the floor.

With his other hand, he grabbed the head and threw it against the wall, the impact leaving a sickening crunch as the man slumped to the ground, unconscious.

„Hmm three thugs... Are they supposed to be all of them?" Aldwyn thought to himself as he continued along the corridor.

As he turned the corner, the shadows grew denser, as if they were coalescing into a living entity. The candles flickered in the presence of a new kind of darkness, one that was not natural. His eyes narrowed as he made out the shapes of four more men standing in a semicircle at the corridor's end. Their posture was not that of welcoming hosts, but rather a pack of wolves waiting for their prey to enter the kill zone.

....

The receptionist had closed everything and was talking to another thug in the reception area. Their voices were hushed, the tension palpable as they spoke in urgent whispers. The thug nodded, his eyes flickering towards the hallway. She slipped a piece of paper into the thug's hand, the edges crumpled as if it had been handled with great anxiety. The thug glanced at the note before stuffing it into his pocket.

"You know what to do," she hissed.

[tap] [tap] [tap] [tap]

As their conversation finished, slow footsteps approaching from the corridor became louder. The receptionist's smile faded and the thug's grip on his baton tightened. They hadn't expected this interruption. The smell of fear and expectation was in the air.

Aldwyn emerged from the shadows, dragging an unconscious thug by the collar. His eyes were like chips of ice in the flickering candlelight, his face a mask of calm determination. The thug's body was limp, a stark contrast to the tension that thrummed through the air.

The receptionist's smile vanished as she took in the scene, her eyes wide with shock. She hadn't anticipated his strength, his ruthlessness. Before the second thug could react, Aldwyn hurled the first one with all his might. The thug collided with his cohort, both crashing into the wall with a thunderous boom that sent plaster raining down on their heads. The receptionist shrieked, her composure shattered.

"You," Aldwyn said, his voice cold. "I'd advise you not to move." The air around it shivering with anticipation. The receptionist froze, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

The thug on the ground tried with all his might to push himself up, but Aldwyn was already there. His hand shot out, grabbing the man's shirt, and he slammed him back against the wall with a force that seemed to resonate through the very bones of the building. The man's eyes went wide with fear, and he whimpered, his body slumping in defeat.

Turning to the receptionist, Aldwyn's gaze was a storm of silver ice. "Where is Randall Teague?" he demanded.

....