Alex was a scholar inhabiting a warrior's domain.
I moved past him to check that the windows were secure. "You can put your things in the bedroom. The bathroom's stocked with fresh towels if you need a shower."
I set his duffel on the floor by the couch and crossed to him, gently extracting the smaller bag from his grip. "You're safe here with me."
"Are we? Really?"
I wanted to offer reassurance and promise that nothing could touch him within the walls of my apartment, but it was time to boot any lies to the curb.
"Safer than anywhere else you could be right now." I set his bag beside the duffel. "I have security measures in place that most civilians don't."
Alex stood in the center of the living room, a strange hesitancy in his posture.
"What is it?"
He gestured vaguely toward the bedroom. "I just realized I'm imposing. I can take the couch."
Finally, something to break the tension. I laughed at the absurdity of his comment.
"You're not sleeping on the couch, Alex."
"But I—"
"We've been sharing a bed for days." I moved closer into his space. "That doesn't change now."
I reached for him, wrapping both arms around his neck. "We're in this together. All of it."
Alex extracted himself from my grip to retrieve his duffel bag. I watched him move toward the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to look back at me.
"Are you coming?" he asked.
I nodded, following him into the room where our boundaries had already begun to dissolve. The door closed behind us with a soft click, sealing us in together.
We had created a sanctuary for the night—fragile and temporary, but ours.
Chapter sixteen
Alex
Thewoodenfloorboardscreakedbeneath my feet as I paced the length of Michael's apartment. I couldn't decide whether the confined space was more like a fortress or a prison. I was certain it would be charming in different circumstances.
Michael hadn't spoken in twenty minutes. He moved between windows with mechanical precision, checking sight lines, adjusting blinds, and rechecking locks.
His tactical vest still lay across the kitchen table where he'd left it that morning, alongside the small go-bag he'd packed after spotting whoever had been watching us. The scene before me was military preparation translated into civilian space.
I ran my fingers along the edge of the vest, feeling the dense ballistic material beneath my touch. "You know, if we're going for the full bunker chic aesthetic, we should consider some sandbags for the windows." I gestured around the apartment. "Maybe a few more tactical flashlights."
Michael paused his surveillance circuit by the east-facing window. He turned toward me, momentarily puzzled, before recognition dawned.
"Are you making jokes right now?"
"Trying to." I shrugged, moving to the kitchen. "I'm considering starting a lifestyle blog:Panic Rooms with Room Service—How to Survive Assassination Attempts Without Sacrificing Creature Comforts."
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm aware of that." I pulled my phone from my pocket. "What this situation needs is music."
"Alex—"
