Shade sealed the rooftop door from the inside, dragging a rusted storage cabinet in front of it and twisting the security bar back into place. The door groaned under the pressure, wedged into a fit so tight no one would get through without breaking metal or bone.
He turned and reached for my hand. I followed without asking.
We made it back to the penthouse in silence. When the door shut behind us, he bolted it.
He swept the space, checking every vent, every corner, every nook where something small could hide. He pulled down the curtains, lifted rugs, and checked the backs of outlets.
None of it felt paranoid. The thing with Blake had shaken him. Something he couldn't ignore.
Only after he checked the final corner did he grab his phone and type out a text. He tossed it onto the night
