The Hunted Clock

n-era Lo

ss of the evening. Emilia Grey held a folded letter in her hand, her fingers tremb

to the workshop. It's ur

ly her father, Henry Grey, a clock maker whose precis

he hadn't seen or hea

dark. Something felt off. The workshop had always been alive with the glow of lamps a

familiar smell of oil and wood polish filled the

softly, her voice b

ans

ze. It was a broken clock, its gears scattered like spilled secrets. Her eyes moved to the workbe

n she s

is chest soaked in blood. The sight made her stom

knees beside him. She touched his face, c

ing, a small brass key. She pried it free, her heart pounding as she turned it over.

urmured, slipping the

fectly aligned were knocked over, their faces staring blankly at nothing. A map of London was pinned to the wall, marked wit

, but a sound from outside

ener from the desk and moved behind the tall grandfather clock

tall, dressed in a black coat, with a hat pulled low ove

d under his breath, hi

Who was this man, and what did he want? She watched as he

y, almost mockingly. "You w

but she held her ground, wa

ifling through the scattered papers, his movements quick and del

said, her

ent before a sly smile spread across hi

er pointed at him, her h

tone dripping with false charm. "Or at l

ightened. "Wha

nted," he said, his smile fadi

g the letter opener, but he caught her wrist,

yed away," he hissed

e man released her, stepping back with a curse. "We'll fini

out the door, disapp

he journal, now clutched tightly in her hands. Whatever her father had been