"Be careful of the waters you tread in, Mr. Crawford because you might become the very thing that lurks beneath."
In the gritty underworld of London, Rhazien Crawford leads a double life. By day, he works as a detective, solving crimes and bringing...
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A/N: I split Chapter 5 into three chapters to create a smoother read! :D It was getting too long to make it one chapter. T_T Chapter 6 will be longer. Enjoy!
Upon entering the front entrance of Rhazien's residence, the boy was immediately struck by a profound sense of admiration tinged with comfort. The house's exterior showcased a remarkable combination of intricate brickwork and embellished stonemasonry, clearly demonstrating the meticulous craftsmanship and attention to detail employed. The aged slate tiles composing the roof bore the marks of time and weathering from years of exposure to the elements, while the tall, narrow windows were elegantly framed by elaborately crafted wooden shutters that had long since lost their original sheen.
The walls were adorned with antique tapestries and oil paintings, all of which seemed to tell stories of their own. Something about tenebrism paintings Rhazien found gloomy yet poetic: he often wondered about the stories behind each piece. The air was thick with the scent of old books and polished wood, almost like ghosts of generational past lurked in the shadows.
"Welcome home, Mr. Crawford." Rhazien shifted his attention from the door, which he had closed softly with the support of his cane, towards the source of the voice that broke the silence.
His gaze shifts towards the elderly lady before him, and a faint smile graced his lips. Her brown hair was elegantly gathered in a high chignon bun, with delicate curls framing the sides of her face. Subtle shades of grey intertwined with the roots of her hair, hinting at her journey through life.
"Hello, Robin," his voice remained soft. Rhazien extended a courteous greeting by bowing, followed by an upward tilt of his head. He kept his gaze focused on her golden eyes.
A slight, delicate curve at the corner of her lips outlined the creases in her laugh lines. She shook her head and let out a melodic chuckle that rumbled from her chest.
"Please, Rhazien. You bow to no one," she began, flattening out the light wrinkles from her dark green dress.
"Time flies by so fast. You grow more mature each day I see you. Often, I see Aderyn in you," she sighs, looking back on the days he used to live at home while Robin took care of the house.
"And how is he?" Rhazien tilts his gaze, offering a curious look toward Robin.
"Your father sent recent letters indicating his voyage in the West Indies. Word has it that he and some of his men are defending the Leeward Islands against several raids on their plantations. . ." Her gaze flicked toward the young boy standing next to Rhazien. She watched as his eyes darted around his new surroundings before finally meeting her gaze -- retreating closer to Rhazien.
"And who is this angel?" her honey-laced voice was a comforting blanket toward the boy as she raised both of her brows, outlining the slight wrinkles on her forehead. She knelt to his height and glanced at the young boy hiding behind Rhazien's leg. Rhazien slowly turned his attention toward him, noticing the fear that soaked through his pores. A sigh escaped his lips as his chest began to burn like wildfire.
