Jay-Jay's POV
It had been a full month since I'd moved into Keifer's mansion (which he called an apartment) — a month of hiding, adjusting, and trying to pretend everything was normal again.
Angelo made the decision for me after Ram's men were spotted near our old neighborhood. "You'll be safer there," he'd said, though even saying the word safe felt strange now.
At first, it was awkward living with Keifer. He was too polite — offering me the bed, cooking every meal, and hovering like he was some knight on watch duty. But after a few weeks, the place started to feel less like a hideout and more like… home.
The apartment smelled faintly of garlic and butter — my doing, obviously. I was sitting cross‑legged on the couch eating the leftover pasta from last night when Keifer walked in from the balcony.
"You're eating again?" he asked, half‑amused, half‑surprised .
I shrugged with my fork in midair. "Stress eating. Supply your guest with a stressful environment, and this happens."
"You're not my guest, you live here now," he said, grabbing some chips from the counter and plopping down beside me.
I grinned. "Fine. Then as a resident, I declare the kitchen under my control."
"Denied," he shot back instantly. "Last time you 'took control,' the smoke alarm nearly died from exhaustion."
"That was one time!"
He laughed, and for a moment it almost felt like the danger outside didn't exist. But then the laughter faded, replaced by that familiar pause — the one he got whenever he remembered why I was here in the first place.
I set down my fork. "Stop looking at me like I'm about to break," I said softly.
He met my eyes. "I can't help it, Jay. Every time the phone buzzes, I think it's bad news."
I reached over and flicked his forehead. "Then think about something else. Like, I don't know — dinner. We're running low on snacks."
He sighed, half‑smiling. "You really think about food in every situation, don't you?"
"Hey, it's my coping mechanism."
And maybe it was — food, laughter, dumb arguments — they made the silence of
hiding bearable. Because even if Ram was still out there somewhere, waiting, I wasn't
running alone anymore.