We had fled our apartment after the second visit from the police. The same officers had knocked on our door a few minutes after Rowan arrived, with different questions this time that felt like they would circle back to Danny. As if the shooting had been linked to that when we all knew it wasn’t.
Rowan had put a stop to it with a business card and told them to talk to my lawyer. Apparently, I now have a lawyer, as if that’s a thing normal people keep on retainer.
The loft unfolds before me in exposed brick and steel beams, industrial minimalist with nothing to soften its edges. Factory-sized windows stretch across the far wall, the glass panes broken up by metal grid work. They overlook the city, revealing more sky than street.
Forty-two steps from the door to the windows, the distance long enough for footsteps to echo on brick and concrete. Twenty-six to the kitchen island that stands like a sculpture in open space. Seventeen to the metal staircase rising toward the suspended platform above.
Lena stops inside the doorway, her mouth agape as she takes in the high-end fixtures and industrial finishes. “Oh. My. God. We could fit our whole apartment in here. Twice. And it’s soquiet. I can actually hear myself think here.”
She’s right. There are no cars honking. No sirens wailing. No neighbors fighting through paper-thin walls or music thumping through floors shared by ceilings below. Only the whisper of the central air system and the faint hum of electronics.
I turn as Rowan secures the door behind us, engaging the three deadbolts plus an interior bar that drops into floor brackets. The security panel beside the door glows with subtle green numbers, armed and watchful.
“Perimeter is secured when the system is active,” Rowan explains, his finger tapping the panel. “Motion sensors on all access points. Glass breakage detection on the windows.”
I file the information away while continuing my assessment. The ceiling stretches higher than I expected, at least twenty feet up, with recessed lighting that illuminates the space in a soft golden glow. The furniture sits close to the ground, positioned to allow clear sightlines to all entries and exits.
The windows draw my focus again. A fire escape lines the left side. Four feet from the sill to the metal platform. An easy jump if it comes to that.
“There’s a security door to the roof,” Rowan says, catching the direction of my stare. “Key access only. I have one you can keep.”
The offer slides through me, severing another thread of resistance. His quiet competence cuts cleanly through my pretense that this is temporary and that I’m still in control. He’s handing me an escape route while making it clear I won’t need one. Not from him.
Rowan strides past us. “Kitchen’s fully stocked. Help yourself whenever you want. No need to ask.”
The casual offer of unlimited food is another slice through me, and my grip tightens on my trash bag suitcase.
The kitchen opens to the living area without walls or barriers. High-end appliances gleam under subtle lighting. A knife block sits on the counter, the handles angled for easy access. I count six blades of varying sizes, all with the same matte black handles.
“Security cameras?” I ask, the question coming out too flat to pass as casual.
“Building exterior only,” Rowan answers, opening the refrigerator, and the interior light spills across himas he pulls out a bottle of water. “Nothing inside the apartment.”
I accept the bottle he offers, twist the cap, and bring it to my lips without hesitation. The cool water slides down my throat as I maintain eye contact with him over the plastic rim.
Lena drifts toward the windows, her reflection stretching across the glass, overlaid on the city below, her hand reaching out to touch the view with tentative fingers.
“How soundproof is this place?” Her question cuts through our unspoken conversation.
Rowan’s mouth quirks upward. “Very. The walls are triple-insulated. The windows are double-paned. You could scream, and the neighbors wouldn’t hear you.”
Protection from external threats. Isolation from outside help. My fingers trace the condensation on the water bottle, cataloging each drop.
“You can see the river from here,” Lena calls, her breath fogging the glass. “And is that Skyhaven on the hill?”
“North side view,” Rowan confirms. “You can see three districts on clear days.”
The debt counter starts running in my head. Every square foot of this place costs more per monththan our entire apartment. Every convenience, every security feature, every moment of quiet builds the total we can never repay. The mental tally climbs with each breath we take of filtered, climate-controlled air.
“Should we talk about sleeping arrangements?” The question burns in my throat as I force it out. “Lena and I can share the couch.”
“Nonsense.” Rowan’s eyes flick from me to Lena and back. “There are bedrooms in the back.”
He moves toward the hallway beneath the floating platform without waiting for a response.
Lena follows, drawn by the excitement of further discoveries. I lag behind, my stomach in knots as I prepare myself for the moment when Rowan explains what all this safety will cost us.
Rowan stops at the second door on the right, his hand resting on the knob without turning it. “This one’s for Lena.”
