Picked up
839 Words
*Sebastian*
As we navigate the bustling streets of Zarqa, the weight of everything sits heavily on my shoulders. The city's vibrant chaos is both a blessing and a curse… perfect for blending in, yet overwhelming in its intensity. I glance at Holly, who's scanning our surroundings with a practiced eye, her expression stern yet focused. She's always been the strong one, the anchor when we are out on jobs together.
"So, where do we start?" Holly asks, her voice cutting through the hustle and bustle around us. Her question pulls me from my thoughts, and I consider our options.
"Well, we could try the local market first," I suggest, my tone dry as I adjust my sunglasses. "Blend in with the crowd, gather some intel. Or we could go straight to the source and visit one of the high end tea houses. They are usually good for some useful gossip."
Holly nods, her lips pressed into a thin line. "The tea houses might be too risky. We don't know which are friendly. Let's start with the market, see what we can pick up."
I agree with a slight nod, but before we can move, Ryan chimes in, his voice tinged with a nervous edge that's hard to miss. "Guys, I don't think we need to go anywhere. Someone will come for us."
Holly raises an eyebrow, turning to face him. "What do you mean, someone will come for us? Who, Ryan?"
Ryan shifts uncomfortably, his usual charm replaced by a jittery energy. "There's someone here who... well, they will know I'm back. And they'll find us. Trust me, it's better if we just wait."
I exchange a look with Holly, both of us trying to decipher the meaning behind Ryan's words. His history in this place is a mystery to us, but it's clear it's not a happy one. "You seem nervous, Ryan," I say, my tone light but probing. "Care to share more about this mysterious someone?"
Ryan forces a laugh, but it lacks his usual sass. "Let's just say it's someone who's very interested in why I've returned to Zarqa. And trust me, they'll find us before we find them."
Karolina steps closer to Ryan, her hand gently resting on his arm. "It's okay, Ryan. We're here with you. We'll handle whoever comes."
I appreciate her attempt to soothe the situation, but my mind is already racing with possibilities. If someone is coming for Ryan, we need to be prepared. "You need to tell us if we are expect a warm or cold welcome," I say, my voice firm. "But let's find a spot where we can see them before they see us. We need the upper hand no matter what."
Holly nods in agreement, her eyes scanning the crowd once more. "Let's move to that café over there. It's got a good view of the street, and we can see anyone approaching."
As we make our way to the café, I can't shake the feeling that we're walking into something bigger than we anticipated. Maybe we should have listened to Ryan about going here.
We settle into the café, the chatter of the patrons around us a constant hum. The place has a cozy feel, with its mismatched chairs and the scent of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. I signal a waiter and order a round of tea for the group, hoping it will calm our nerves, especially Ryan's.
But the tension at our table is so obvious that the waiter all but throws the tea at us and hurries off.
Once he is gone, I lean back in my chair, eyeing Ryan carefully. "So, Ryan, these people who are coming for you... will they be happy or angry to see you?" I ask, trying to keep my tone casual but firm.
Ryan shrugs, his eyes flicking nervously to the street as he sips his tea. "A bit of both, I guess," he finally replies, his voice strained.
Holly, sitting next to me, lets out an exasperated sigh. "That makes no f*****g sense, Ryan. Spit it out. Who are these people, and what do they want?"
Before Ryan can respond, a group of royal soldiers approaches our table. Ryan's eyes widen, and he mutters, "Here we go."
The leader of the soldiers, a tall man with a stern face, steps forward and addresses Ryan in the local Arabic dialect. The words are sharp and quick, and I catch only a few of them.
Holly leans closer to me, her voice a whisper. "Wait, did he just call him Prince?"
I nod, keeping my eyes fixed on the soldiers. "Yeah, but in a way that sounded almost like an insult. They want us to come to the royal palace… now."
Ryan's face is an odd blend of resignation, fear and determination, and I can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out how to handle this.
In the end he sighs and get up, “We better follow them.”
- Writer
