“Plenty of worse fates than some dangerously hot, genuinely nice guys wanting to take care of me. When hasanyoneoffered to help me that wasn’t just trying to hit it and quit it? Tried to make me smile simply for the hell of it? Fuck, when has anyone paid enough attention to notice if I was eating or not? So this is different from how I pictured my life going; big deal. Different isn’t bad, it’s interesting. I like different.”
Stumbling to a halt outside of my building, I grip the rail beside the steps, taking deep, ragged breaths. Sticky with sweat and muscles on fire, I feel better than I have in weeks. I’m a tired mess, but my head is finally quiet, all of the chaos unraveled into a discernible path that I’m fairly confident in taking the first step down.
Hauling myself up, I sigh at the flights of stairs standing between me and a cool shower, telling myself ‘one more step’ the entire way. Turning off my music and spinning my bracelet to grab my key, all of the exhaustion leaves my body in a rush as I stare at the crack of space between my door and the frame. It wouldn’t be noticeable if I wasn’t already on edge, the door appearing shut for the most part, and it’s completely possible that I didn’t pull it shut tightly enough behind me to latch, but I’m not self-sacrificing enough to check.
Careful not to make a sound, I back away from the door, watching it like it’ll be ripped open at any given second and a masked man will jump out. Descending the stairs backwards, I pull my phone free and dial without looking away from my apartment. As soon as I hit the landing on the next floor and my door is out of sight, I pivot to bolt down the stairs.
“Sab-”
“Was it your crazy ass that broke in this time?”
Cinjin’s voice is strained. “What? No, of course not. Where are you, can you lock yourself in the bathroom?”
Between heavy breaths I manage a clipped, “Stairs.”
The sound of his motorcycle firing up nearly drowns out him ordering, “Get outside and shout for Slade.”
Shoving open the door to the building, I leap down the last few stairs onto the sidewalk, knees jarring with the impact, but remain upright. “Yeah, I’m not screaming and alerting my potential murderer right where I’m at.”
With a strangled noise of frustration, he barks, “Slade should be up on the roof. Run across the street to the fire escape, he’ll hear you on the ladder. I’ll be there soon.”
Hanging up, I stick my phone back in my arm band to free up my hands. Jogging across traffic, I aim for the gap between apartment buildings. Upping to a sprint, I make a running leap to grab the bottom rung of the ladder hovering a few feet above the ground. With several curses, I haul myself up, making a mental note that running alone isn’t going to cut it anymore when my grip slips and I barely save myself from falling on my ass.
Getting to my feet on the tiny landing, I take the zig-zagging stairs upward, the metal thundering beneath my hurried footsteps. Slade’s face appears over the top ledge and he almost climbs down to meet me partway, but I gesture for him to stay up there to wait for me. He takes my hand to help me over the top onto the roof, looking over my shoulder to search for whatever had me sprinting like my ass was on fire.
Gasping for breath, I weakly point in the direction of my building, one hand on my knee and a wicked stitch in my side that aches every time I talk. “Door. Not latched. Cin coming. Catch person leaving.”
Deciphering my bullet points, he takes my hand and hauls me to the ledge facing my apartment, easing me down so that we’re lying on our stomachs. For shadowing me on a summer run in a black t-shirt and matching jeans, he’s in far better shape, not even sweating, and if that’s yet another wolfish perk I got cheated out of, I’d rather not know at this point. While my breathing levels out, we stare at the building in silence until eventually some guy with sandy blonde hair emerges, casually strolling out of the front door that I know for a fact doesn’t live there. Sure, someone might have had a friend over, but I’m not giving much stock in coincidences these days.
“Do you recognize him?” Slade asks, staring intently at the man whistling happily as he walks out of sight without once looking back.
Frowning, I shake my head. “I thought you vetted all of the families because of Emmy. So if you don’t know him, maybe this guywasjust visiting someone, and whoever’s in my apartment is still there, waiting?”
His expression is murderous as he glares at the old building. “I did. Every member. But I’m not leaving you alone to go check, so we’ll keep watching until Cin gets here so that one of us can stay with you.” He’s quiet for several tense minutes before he tentatively adds, “Reid said you’re coming home in the morning.”
My chest lurches, and I rub the heel of my hand over the spot in a bid to alleviate the ache. “Figured it was about time. My place isn’t nearly as much fun to be locked in for days on end as your house probably is. Less company, too.” Scowling, I amend, “Well, most days, at least.”
The silence stretches on again, and I suspect it’s more him taking time to be cautious with his wording than thinking it’s awkward to talk about. “You know that you’re free to come and go, right? We only want to make sure that someone’s with you when you leave to be safe, same as we do for our sister. It’s because we don’t want anything to happen to you, not a matter of control or imprisonment.”
My breath leaves me in a rush and I fold my arms under my chin. “I know. After this, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep anyway, so is it okay if I come back tonight instead of the morning?”
“Of course,” he replies without missing a beat, sounding elated at the idea, and the corner of my lips twitch at his enthusiasm. “Boden and Cin have been,” he tapers off, switching the direction of his train of thought. “They’ll sleep better with you nearby.”
Something about his statement triggers a thought, and I spend a few minutes working through my growing theory before risking speaking it aloud. “Slade?”
He doesn’t tear his gaze from the building. “Hmm?”
“If somebody left drugged food at my door, that means they've been watching long enough to catch onto our daily routine.”
He nods. “That’s why we moved our post here; for a better vantage point. If someone’s watching you, it’s easier to see everything to find what’s out of place. Whoever’s in there would have known I’d follow you on your run and gave them an opportunity to break in.”
Cautiously, I suggest, “Wouldn’t that be what any wise person would do? So if you were looking for an opening, if you knew exactly where everyone was...” I watch as his face begins to pale. “And where we are now-” swallowing, I finish “-there are only two ways down.”
He becomes preternaturally still before slowly withdrawing a handgun from beneath the side of his shirt and pulling me to my feet alongside him. Weighing his options, he leads us towards the rooftop entrance into the building, where we at least aren't as exposed as we would be on the fire escape. Closing the door behind us, we scan the empty hallway, every apartment door shut and the place unnaturally quiet.
“And if it was drugged,” I continue in a hushed whisper, “how would they have assumed they could break inandhaul my deadweight out of there without one of you intervening? Yet no one ever came back. So either they saw Bo take the food before I could eat it and pulled back to make a new plan, or-”
“-or that was never the plan. It was a distraction. Son of a bitch!” he snarls as we hurry down to the next level, and then the next.
