"Robbie?" I call, curious. I push the panel. It gives with a click, sliding aside to reveal a hidden door.
I step through, my mouth open…
“What the…” I say, barely able to believe what I’m seeing.
It's a fully furnished panic room mini apartment—bed, kitchenette, bathroom, stocked shelves of canned goods and water, even a small TV and bookshelves. High-tech panels on the walls… security feeds, I guess.
It’s all fortified, self-contained. Like a bunker for the end of the world.
Robbie pops out from behind the bed. "Boo! Wait, how did you find this?"
"I... the closet. Ther secret door. Wait, did I just say that?"
Robbie whistles, looking around. "Whoa. Ivan's got layers. This place screams high-level criminal. Like seriously high-level. Viktor too, probably. Panic rooms, penthouses… they're not small-time."
I run my hand over the reinforced doorframe.
"I guess so," I say, my head spinning.
Externally, I shrug it off, but internally, doubts swirl. Am I truly sure about committing to this life? Secret rooms, ambushes, blood.
Viktor's world is shadows and violence.
Do I want that forever?
The art, the passion—yes. But the danger? The moral gray? My stomach knots.
Robbie senses my mood shift. "Hey, let's explore more! Bet there's a home theater or something."
After lots of fun and distraction from my whirring mind, mid-morning the buzzer sounds. Robbie checks the intercom.
"Alexander?"
We let him up. But when the elevator opens, it's not the steady, watchful Alexander from before.
He's bloodied. His shirt torn, cuts on his face, arm held awkwardly like it's sprained or worse.
Alexander stumbles in, face pale, his left eye barely able to open.
"What happened?" I gasp, rushing forward.
Robbie grabs a towel from the kitchen, presses it to a gash on his forehead.
Alexander leans against the wall, breathing heavy.
"Ambush. Before the meeting at dawn,” Alexander says. “I was left for dead. When I came to, Ivan and Viktor...gone. No one knows where. Could be captured. Could be..."
Dead.
Alexander doesn't say it, but the word hangs. Terror crashes over me like ice water. My Daddy—dead?
No. No. No.
This can’t be happening.
Please don’t let this happen…
I sink to the floor, knees buckling. Robbie wraps his arms around me.
