Chapter One: Orange Hair
1930's
London city
A woman dressed in a black cloak sat inside a moving vehicle. She kept on making sure that her hood stayed covered at all times. In her hand, was a basket, properly wrapped in a white cloth as if to prevent eyes from getting a glimpse of what could be inside.
The car's engine rumbled loudly as the driver finally made a stop in the middle of nowhere, far from main town. The movement made the lady move forward suddenly as if an earthquake had occurred.
"Lady, this is as far as I go." In a complaining tone, the driver said to the lady, who now came down and handed over some coins in his hands.
A little calmed now, he said, after collecting the coins, with a voice that resembled one that worried, "Miss, you sure you know where you're headed?"
Not wanting to make her voice heard by the man who had just switched from being angry to being this concerned gentleman, she hid her face with her hood, turned to the side, and nodded her head.
"Be careful. This woods ain't safe."
Lyya started to walk to where she had in mind, but on her way, she tripped a little over a stone, and fell down, making her hoodie come down. It revealed her carroty hair. It was as if the driver had deliberately waited for that to happen. He used his torch to see the lady he had not gotten the chance to give a proper gaze at.
It was mysterious to this man since he often saw the faces of his passengers, and they surely did not let him ride them to literally nowhere. You wouldn't blame him for having even a tad of curiosity.
The lady was lucky she had faced him backwards. Her identity she had tried so much to hide ever since the beginning of the journey, was still kept secret. The only thing he'd know was that she had orange hair colour.
The driver now started the car and left Lyya to be, leaving with his revving vehicle. Probably he had decided it was best to mind his own business. Was he going to stop her from embarking on her journey?
The woman covered her hood back and carried the big basket in her hand. With a lantern in the other, she embarked on this eerie journey.
Looking up at the moon, Lyya took in a dry gulp as she suddenly heard a loud howl. She started to feel her hand shake in fear, along with her entire body.
What was a carroty-haired female doing in the woods at late hours all by herself, walking to a place where clearly no human was?
The lady walked for long, no doubt. Deeper and deeper into the woods she went.
As all of this was going on, a young lad in his twenties had decided to enjoy himself at the South's Bull pub. Bottles of hard liquor, and big cups that were overfilled with foamy rum, had become his companions that night. Well to be precise, their content rather.
His other companions were his overly drunk male friends who had other female friends around them. Those women also accompanied him into the sweet, sweet night.
It was a brothel that ran a tavern.
To this Jack the lad whose name was literally Jack, he was not alone, and definitely not sad. At least he believed so. He was high over some smokes and he drank so much that he was certain he would not wake up the next day to remember this blissful night.
Women rubbed his chest through his unbuttoned white shirt that had begun to change colour because of the drinks his fellow crazy friends had poured on him.
Jack Loggman, the son of Alpha Loggman, one of the richest businessmen in the city, had wasted his entire self that night in a tavern.
Legs sprawled and shirtless, Jack woke up lying on a bed with a ringing sensation in his head. He felt so much pain in his head and placed his hand there with a wince of pain, trying to calm his headache.
A woman dressed in a brown and black striped flowing gown, with a big black belt on her stomach, gave a long look at herself in the mirror. She dressed her hair curls, put on her ruby-coloured lipstick, and dragged up her dress from the chestal region.
She gave a leer to bemused Jack who was still lying on the bed, biting onto the bottom of her red-shaded lips.
"Another time perhaps?" She said to Jack, whose neck was bent to the side and eyes widened looking at this lady.
The room's door slammed open revealing a man in a long brown coat all bristol fashioned.
"Oh no," Jack lamented as he turned the other way, burying his face into his curved arm.
On seeing the man, the lady cowered in fright, hitting her back against the wall. She slowly moved with her back still glued to the walls and made a run for it as soon as she got through the door.
"Get dressed," Charles said with face serious and devoid of humour. He opened his briefcase and threw a newspaper at him "Read,"
"What.. ?" Jack slurred curling the upper part of his shirtless masculine figure.
He took it and tried reading it, but no, he was still suffering so much from his hangover.
"You know what? Read the damn thing," He tossed the paper to the gentleman at his front.
The man took it but didn't have to read the paper in order to break this news to him.
"A woman was found this morning lying in the woods badly injured."
"And they already have it on the papers so fucking fast?" He now stood up to put on his shirt and pants.
"Could you borrow me your coat? This is fucking messed up," He said to the gentleman with arms already waiting to receive it.
The man looked at Jack a bit before agreeing to pull off his coat and lend it to him.
"How am I involved in this mate?"
"It was an orange long-haired lady, one you may be familiar with." The gentleman, who now had only his suit on, said, with a look that showed he was expecting a dire reaction.
Jack didn't show any sort of worry, or react the way the gentleman had expected he would. He was just focused on looking at his reflection in the mirror, brushing his brown hair, and then, making sure he looked somewhat presentable.
The man went further, "Brown eyes, a black laced locket with a picture of you and her in it."
His mouth agape as he marched forward to snatch the paper from his hand. His eyes opened as he looked at the words. He quickly approached the door and ran to where he didn't know.
The gentleman also was forced to increase his walking speed and follow behind Jack at a quicker pace.
"Slow down there mate," Charles said, reaching for his hand.
Jack angrily thrust his hand away from his grasp. He shifted backwards, slightly staggering, and with clenched fists covering his mouth, he tried holding back his unshed tears.
"I'm an asshole," Jack said. His fist was now removed from his mouth, but his sad agitated look stuck. "Is she okay?"
"You can go see for yourself," The always calm gentleman spoke.