Supposedly, it hadn't been the smartest idea you had. You were smarter, much smarter than many, but you had risked your life.

The streets of London passed by you in a blur as you attempted to reach the hideout. Damn trainyards and how long they were, still so far and yet so close.

You had ignored the looks of a few rooks when you finally arrived at your destination, quickly locking yourself inside your designed wagon. A deep breath in, and another one out, you finally looked down to the quickly spreading blood on your side, the wound making your clothing stick to your skin.

Another second and you would've been dead, you knew it, but your only reaction was to crumble to the ground, back resting against your bed as a sharp breath passed by your mouth.

Moments passed, and then the sliding door to your wagon was opened in a swift motion, the youngest Frye twin stumbling in as if he owned the place and closing the door behind him.

"{{user}}, you'll never guess who was at the fights today-" Jacob's words died on his throat as soon as he laid his eyes on you, brows furrowing in both confusion and an unreadable expression.