The fire escape was uncomfortably narrow, with a landing on every floor and a folding ladder between the floors. The rusted metal groaned under my boots. I moved up the ladders quickly, keeping my elbows in and placing my feet with care to avoid any weak spots.
It was dark back here in the alley. No lights, no cameras, no nosy neighbors sticking their heads out. Perfect.
I hit the top platform without a sound.
The fire escape landings stretched nearly all the way across the building’s back side, giving me access to 4B’s kitchen window on the left and a bedroom window on the right.
The kitchen window was cracked open just enough for me to hear what was going on inside. I crouched low, steadying myself, and watched.
Lyla opened the front door of the apartment, stepping directly into the living room.
Although she was a bit flushed from the run, she seemed surprisingly calm. She set her grocery bags on the Formica counter. The kitchen was the size of a prison cell, and it had the rundown vibe of one with yellow paint, dented fridge, and half-broken blinds. No curtains. But it was clean and tidy.
She didn’t notice me peering through the window—too busy putting away her groceries. Most went into the nearly empty fridge and small pantry, but she left out a package of ramen noodles, some crackers, and an apple.
No one should live like this—not even a reckless little brat who taunted predators. She didn’t have a clue how close she’d come to actually getting hurt by the monsters who’d been leering at her as she walked home.
After putting away her meager groceries, she filled a saucepan from the tap and fired up a burner on the stove. Then she turned toward the window. I didn’t move, and she walked right by. She still had no idea I was out here.
I stayed crouched in the shadows, barely breathing, my gaze locked on her as she bustled about in the tiny kitchen.
She was calm. Collected. Like she hadn’t just been chased half a block by a man who could snap her neck without breaking a sweat.
It should’ve rattled her. But she stood there now, pouring dry noodles into the water like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
While the ramen cooked, she rinsed and sliced the apple, and a few minutes later, she drained the pot, poured the noodles into a bowl, and perched on the counter to eat. There was no table in sight.
Then she turned to her backpack, which was sitting on the corner of the counter, and pulled out the book. Once again, she began to devour it as she ate.
Wide eyes, soft little lip bites.
Her thighs shifted. I became absorbed in her subtle, unconscious reactions to the book, loving how exposed she was to me from this angle. I caught every blush, every smile, every shift of her hips. I studied her lips as she took a sip of water and went back to reading, lost in the words.
The front door opened.
She startled, scrambling to return the book to her backpack.
A female voice called out, “Lyyyyyla! I’m dying. I had the worst day ever!” The woman, a tall brunette wearing all black, sniffed. “Hmm, did we ever find out if our stove’s possessed? Because it never works for me.”
I knew immediately who she was: Nat DeSoto. Lyla’s Roommate. Bartender. Tattoos over most of her skin. Born and raised in the Bronx.
“I made ramen,” Lyla said, hopping down from the counter. “But the stove didn’t hiss at me, so I’m guessing the demon’s asleep.”
Nat dropped her bag near the couch and kicked off her boots. “I’d sell my soul for chicken tikka right now.”
“Do it. Summon DoorDash.”
“I think I will. You want anything?”
“Nah, the noodles hit the spot. Plus, I had a big lunch.”
Nat drifted toward the kitchen, and I shifted slightly, angling for a better line of sight.
Lyla set her bowl in the sink and turned toward her roommate. “Boy, do I have a story for you,” she said, resting her hands on the counter and leaning toward Nat, who now stood across from her. “You’re not gonna believe what happened to me today.”
Finally, I might get a little insight into my girl.
“I’m listening,” Nat said, leaning one hip against the counter, her phone in hand. “Please distract me while I wait for my food.”
