Roman doesn’t usually come back so early. My pulse steadies when I see it’s actually him stepping inside.
His jaw is set in a hard line, his features rigid.
“What happened?”
He lets out a breath. “I can’t keep you here anymore.”
“Your father knows, doesn’t he?”
He eases closer. “I don’t know. He might know soon. We have to go someplace else. Outside of the city.”
He lets out a sigh and says, “I rented this place to keep you hidden. Not forever. I was going to move you someplace nicer, once things cooled down. You know this isn’t my real apartment.”
I nod.
“I go there sometimes,” he continues. “To check on things. Switch up my cars and rotate where I leave them.”
“He thinks you’re living there?”
Roman nods. “I went there today.” He pauses, then laughs without humor. “What do I see? One of my own men parked on my street, watching the building.”
My stomach turns cold. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” he says, lifting a hand and letting it fall. “I tapped on his window and asked him what the fuck he was doing on my street, outside my place. He said he had orders from the top to keep an eye on who comes and goes.”
“Roman,” I whisper, fear creeping into my voice. "He's going to find out. What if he’s been watching us here too? What if he already knows I’m here and he’s just messing with you?”
“If he knew,” Roman says flatly. “I’d be dead already.”
He drops back against the couch cushions, letting out along breath. “I don’t doubt he’ll figure it out.Ifhe has enough time.”
He turns to me. “Come here.”
I join him at the window as he reaches for a thick strip of fabric attached to the wall and pulls. The metal blinds begin to rise.
“There’s a reason I told you not to open these,” he says. “It’s for safety, in case anyone’s watching. But I also didn’t want to scare you with the view.”
The blinds reach the top and for the first time I see where I am in daylight.
“My father hates this part of the city.”
I try to catch my breath, understanding what he meant by the view. Every building across the street, in every direction is gray. Cracks trace alongside walls stained with black streaks of dirt and erosion. Broken windows patched with cardboard or plastic offer almost no protection from the wind and cold. Laundry hangs from balconies, some of them slanted, looking like they might collapse under a single wrong step.
My gaze drifts down the building across from us. It’s covered in graffiti. On the wall, I see a hammer painted beside a curved tool I don’t recognize.
“What is that?”
“A communist symbol.” He issues me a gentle look, adding. “From when the government controlled everything. You’ll see it sometimes because some people miss it.”
I nod, grateful he explained without me asking and without making me feel dumb.
On another building, there’s more graffiti. This time it’s a naked woman on her hands and knees, with a naked man behind her. I try not to stare at that one, even as heat creeps up my neck and curiosity tugs at me.
Why’s he behind her?
I drag my gaze away. Another wall shows exaggerated, Asian-looking eyes painted large with words with Cyrillic words I don’t understand. I’m sure it’s something rude.
I keep looking, peering closer to see the street below. It’s filthy with trash scattered everywhere and broken furniture dumped along the sidewalk.
