6
Ryu
“This is the place.”
The building Scar gestured to was old and a bit run-down—not dilapidated by any means, but it had clearly seen better days. It was a three-story apartment with greyed out bricks and worn wood.
Most of the dragons in Cinderhollow lived in tall, tower-like buildings, while the other non-dragon shifters from outside the tribe usually resided somewhere similar to their original home. I knew Scar originally came from Stoneheart pack, a place that hadn’t treated him so nicely during his time there. I wonder if that had anything to do with the shabby appearance of his apartment here.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll take you inside.”
I expected him to argue. His face whipped towards me, as if in the beginning of a retort, but nothing came out. He just sighed and nodded.
Weird,I thought. “Which floor is yours?”
“Third,” he mumbled. Defensively, he added, “And yeah, I know it’s ironic with my bad leg.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” I said honestly. “But since I’m assuming there’s no elevator, Iamgoing to help you up the stairs.”
His brows raised somewhat suspiciously. “Youare?”
“Yes. And it’s not because of your leg.” I nodded at his prosthetic.
Still on edge, he asked, “Why, then?”
I leaned down. Scar tensed.
“Your ankle is twisted,” I said, pointing to his biological one. “So you would have a hard time making it up the stairs even if you didn’t have a prosthetic.” Gently, I added, “I’m just helping you the same I would do for any other friend.”
He perked up at the word. Then he muttered, “Fine.”
We made our way up a short set of concrete steps, then into the front door. A small lobby smelling of dust and damp stone greeted us. The scent wasn’t unpleasant, but I was glad my home didn’t smell like it. A large, wide staircase lead up to the ascending floors. I was surprised to see only one door on the main floor, besides the janitor’s closet.
“Is it one apartment per floor?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah,” Scar grunted as I helped him climb the first few steps.
“Do you know your neighbors?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Karen. She’s nice, I guess. She gets worried when I get home late, even though I’ve told her a million times I run a bar that closes in the early hours.”
I smiled. “That’s kind of her.”
“I guess so. She’s a bit much sometimes. Always asking me when I’m going to find a nice alpha and settle down. I’ve told her that’s not gonna happen a million times, too.”
I frowned at Scar’s comment. I was about to tell him that wasn’t true when he continued speaking.
“Anyway, she’s nicer than old man Pete.” He rolled his eyes, scowling. “He lives underneath me. He’s always complaining about my leg, saying he can hear it thump all the time. Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?”
“Maybe he should get earplugs,” I suggested.
“That’s what I said!” Scar paused. “Well, maybe in not as nice terms.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “He might listen better if you omit some not as nice terms from your vocabulary.”
A slight smile tugged at Scar’s lips as he told me to “F off.”
As we breached the second floor, Scar ducked his head and mumbled in a quiet voice, “Speak of the devil.”
