Taking out the trash sucks. Especially when you live in a dump like this. Even more when you've got to bump into guys like Tyson… and the Mountain. Yeah, I nicknamed him that. Ran into him in the lobby earlier, walked past without saying a word. I swear I heard a "Bitch" under his breath, but maybe it was just the wind.
Now I'm out back, dumping my garbage, and what do I find? My neighbor's garbage ex waiting for me like some bad jump scare. Three days since our little run-in. From what I've gathered, he doesn't even live here, just rented the place to lurk around. Pathetic.
"Stay away from her, bro," Tyson spits.
"Who?"
"From Maya, you shithead."
I tilt my head, like I'm trying real hard to process his words. Then I smirk.
"No, I mean… who asked for your opinion?"
Tyson's jaw flexes, like he's trying not to lose it right there. "I'm serious. You so much as look at her—"
"Oh no," I cut him off, holding my hands up mockingly. "Not looking at her. God forbid. What should I do then? Close my eyes every time she walks past? Wear sunglasses indoors? Maybe gouge my eyes out, would that make you happy?"
His face turns red, veins starting to pop in his neck. He takes a step closer.
"Back up," I say, calm as a monk. "You're in my personal space. And trust me, you don't want to be in there."
He's fuming, fists clenching, but I just grin at him like I'm waiting for him to swing. Like I want him to.
"Go ahead," I whisper. "Do it. Give me an excuse."
His nostrils flare as he steps closer, shoulders squared like he's trying to look bigger than he is. I'm already bracing, not because I'm worried, because I want him to try. But then the little voice in my head reminds me: keep your head down. Don't draw too much heat.
So, when his fist finally swings, I don't meet it with mine. I pivot just enough, feel the wind of it brush past my cheek. Before he can even register the miss, my hand snaps up and catches his arm mid-motion. A twist, controlled, precise. Not enough to break it, but enough to make his knees buckle and his face contort in pain.
He groans through clenched teeth, trying to yank free. I lean in close, my voice a low growl only he can hear.
"I'm going to give you one last chance. Don't try this again. Next time, I won't just twist your arm. I'll break your pretty face... and I'll enjoy it."
I shove him back, releasing his arm like he's nothing but trash. He stumbles a step, clutching his wrist, glaring at me with that mix of anger and fear I've seen a hundred times before.
I dust my hands off like I've just taken out the garbage. "Now run along, lover boy. Before I really get annoyed."
Given the chance, he turns and bolts, tossing threats and curses over his shoulder like loose change. Maybe he thinks it makes him sound tough. I don't know. I don't care.
I turn the corner toward the lobby, expecting silence, just the hum of old lights and the stink of this building. Instead, I almost collide with someone.
Tall. Too tall. And thin like his clothes are the only thing holding him together, keeping him from snapping in half. The hoodie drapes over his frame like a shadow, jeans hanging loose. I don't get a good look at his face.
He mumbles something, an apology, maybe, before turning away. Quick, almost too quick, disappearing down the hallway like smoke slipping through a crack.
I stand there, frozen for half a second. That wasn't just some random guy. No way. My gut doesn't fire off alarms like that for nothing.
I've been wrong before, hell, I've judged plenty of books by their covers. But this one? This one practically screamed don't trust me.
I exhale through my nose, steadying myself as I keep walking toward the lobby.
"I think I've just found my first real suspect," I mutter.
Not that I'm calling it yet. But that was too weird to ignore.
…
EIGHT HOURS LATER…
I'm making dinner. First time since moving in, and wow… it shows. Five days of doing nothing but staring at the walls, mapping every hallway, memorizing every neighbor's footsteps. And now? Now I can barely even handle a frying pan.
Everyone around here is painfully normal. Boring neighbors, boring routines.
The only person who stood out? That tall guy. And even he's a dead end. I ran his description through the AI, cross-checked every database, old case files, street cams, housing records, nothing. He doesn't exist.
Honestly, it's frustrating. Not scary. Just annoying. Like hitting a wall you already knew was there, but still hoping there'd be a crack.
I jab at the stove, the sizzle of the pan louder than it needs to be. The smell of burning oil doesn't help my mood.
"Seriously?" I mutter. "The first person in days who might be interesting, and he's a ghost?"
I glance around the apartment like it's some kind of cage. Walls the color of stale oatmeal, floorboards that creak every time I breathe, and a flickering light that sounds like a mosquito on its last legs. The hallway smells faintly of old trash and wet carpet. Five stars. Would recommend.
The neighbors don't make it better. Loud TV at all hours, couples fighting, kids screaming, random people drifting in and out like the building's a revolving door.
If boredom were a weapon, I'd have wiped out half this block by now.
I stir the pan with one hand, scrolling through my burner phone with the other. Notes, observations, suspicions, all the things I should be piecing together into something useful. Instead, it's just noise. Empty details. A puzzle missing too many pieces.
Five days in, and the highlight of my week is a tall guy who doesn't exist…
This is what they call 'deep cover'? Yeah. Sure.
More like a slow death by wallpaper.
Knock. A pause. Then, two quick knocks, sharp and impatient.
Someone's at my door. I'd bet good money it's Mia. Haven't seen either of them since I caught Maya arguing with her ex in the hallway. Not my business…
I leave my food to commit slow suicide on the stove and pull open the door.
And there they are. Maya, dragging her little sister by the wrist. Mia's squirming, twisting, fighting to see me, like I'm the prize at the end of some carnival game.
I can't help but chuckle. "Well. Look what the cat dragged in… and what she's trying real hard to drag back out."
Maya shoots me a look, one part apology and three parts exhausted big sister. "Sorry, this spoiled brat doesn't understand the word no."
Mia gasps like Maya just accused her of treason. "Excuse me? I understand it perfectly. I just don't accept it when it's stupid. Why can't we talk anymore? Just because that asshole moved in…"
"Whoa, language." I cut in, raising a hand like I'm the referee here. I can't quite hide the little smirk tugging at my mouth.
Maya groans. "Mia. Stop swearing. I've told you a million times."
Mia folds her arms, glaring up at both of us like she's ready to go to war. "No. He is an asshole. Someone has to let him know."
"I mean… she's got a point," I say with a shrug.
That earns me a glare sharp enough to cut glass. She's even hotter when she's glaring, not that I'd ever say that out loud.
"But that doesn't have to be you…" I add, grinning as I turn my head toward the wall. I cup my hands around my mouth. "YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE, TYSON!" I shout, my voice echoing down the hall.
The silence that follows is perfect. Not a peep. Tyson's not even home, but damn, it feels good to yell it anyway.
Mia blinks at me, caught between shock and laughter. Then the corner of her mouth twitches. "…Okay, that was actually kind of good."
"Good?" I raise a brow, pretending to be offended. "That was legendary."
Maya groans, dragging a hand down her face. "You're both children. Actual children."
She smirks, fire back in her eyes. "Do it again. Louder this time."
Maya's head snaps toward her. "Mia. Don't encourage him—"
But I'm already cupping my hands around my mouth. "YOU'RE A MASSIVE ASSHOLE, TYSON!" I bellow, voice rattling the crappy wallpaper.
Somewhere down the hall, a door slams. That I probably was the Mountain.
Mia bursts out laughing, clutching her stomach. "Oh my god, that was perfect!"
"I know, right."
"You know what? Mia go back inside, or I swear to god, no TV for the rest of your life."
"You wouldn't dare." She says this as she goes inside, mind you. And then Maya closes the door.
Maya lets out a long, tired sigh as the door clicks shut behind her sister. She leans back against it for a second, like she needs the wood to hold her up.
"You know, you don't need to hide from me," I say, folding my arms and tilting my head. "Having a pathetic ex isn't that embarrassing."
Her eyes snap up at me, sharp as glass. "Pathetic? You don't even know him."
"Exactly," I grin. "And even I can tell he's pathetic. That's a talent."
For a second she looks like she's about to snap back, then she exhales through her nose, shoulders sagging. She's exhausted, and the fight's gone as quickly as it flared.
"Yeah, well… pathetic still manages to make a mess of everything."
I shrug, leaning against my doorframe. "That's the thing about pathetic people. They're only dangerous if you give them space to be."
Her mouth twitches, like she wants to argue but can't. Instead, she mutters, "You sound like you know what you're talking about."
I flash her a half-smile. "I do. I've met a lot of pathetic people." A beat. "Hell, some of them even thought they were scary."
She stays quiet for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip like she's weighing whether or not to share. Finally, she exhales, shoulders sagging. "He and I broke up a month ago… around the same time my dad died. After that, I moved here. And he… he still tries to make it up to me."
Her voice is quiet, almost lost, but it hits me harder than I expect. The anger from earlier, the frustration, it all softens in the face of that truth.
I nod slowly, leaning against the doorframe a little more casually, giving her space but keeping the connection. "That… makes sense. It's not easy to move on from someone, especially when that someone is you."
Her eyes flick up, a mix of confusion and amusement crossing her face. "Wait… what does that even mean?"
I shrug, letting a small smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. "It means… sometimes the hardest person to leave behind isn't the one chasing you, it's the one you can't stop thinking about. The one who lives in your head."
I let the words hang in the air, watching her face carefully. She doesn't say anything at first, just lets them settle between us, like she's weighing them, or maybe just letting them exist without needing to respond.
Despite being here for a completely different reason, despite the lies I'm keeping from her, despite everything, I can't ignore it. Looking at her now… I haven't felt like this with anyone.
There's something in the way she stands, the tilt of her head, the exhaustion softened by that small, cautious curiosity in her eyes. It makes my chest tighten in a way I didn't expect, makes me realize how alive I feel when she's near.
"Right… I have to head back in," she says, her voice soft but steady. She gives a small, tired smile. "Can't leave that little devil alone."
I nod, trying to play it casual, though my mind is still tangled in thoughts I don't bother hiding. "Yeah… she seems like she runs the place anyway."
She chuckles lightly, shaking her head. "I swear, she's going to be the end of me someday."
I smirk. "Well, if you ever need backup, you know where to find me."
Her eyes flick up to mine, a faint surprise there, before she shakes her head and starts toward her apartment. "Thanks… maybe I'll take you up on that one day."
As she disappears inside, I stay in the hallway a moment longer, letting the strange quiet settle around me. The faint hum of the building feels louder somehow, each creak of the floorboards under my shoes amplified. I finally turn toward the elevator, hoping to distract myself, checking the number there like I always do, half expecting nothing, half hoping for the same dull consistency.
But it's not a six anymore.
It's a seven.
My chest tightens instantly, and my fingers clench into fists. FUCK.