the place, so much so that he knew the code to get into the stairwell for the loft, and he’d barely passed a glance to the stragglers sitting at the bottom of the stairs. They either didn’t recognize him, or they did, and they didn’t care that he was there. She never thought to ask.
“I know whose name is on the deed now, and he always stays here,” Pav said, “but other people come and go, too. It changes.”
“I don’t understand.”
Pav smiled back at her. “Yeah, I know.”
He didn’t offer more of an explanation, and Viktoria didn’t press for more. He’d told her at the tattoo shop that he would explain when they got there, so she was putting her trust in him to do exactly that.
Was this a place he was allowed to come when they let him out of the Compound over the years? Did he know the people here?
At the top of the stairwell, a short, dark hallway led to a door. Like downstairs, there was an electronic pad on the door with keys to press in a code. Pav didn’t let go of her hand as he used his other to punch in a six-digit code. A loud buzz echoed in the hallway, and then a click sounded, too. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted to open it up.
Darkness welcomed them, for the most part. Lights had been dimmed, and the loft was quiet. Immediately, she took in the space as best she could. The shoes lined up along the entrance, and the coats hanging on hooks that had been nailed to the wall. The place seemed clean, felt warm.
It was only the figure coming out from a back hallway in the loft that made Viktoria take a step behind Pav. He didn’t tense or act like the person bothered him. In the shadows of the hallway, she couldn’t see the unknown man’s face, but the squeeze of Pav’s hand against her side was enough to tell her everything was fine.
She still stayed behind him.
Just in case …
“Pavel,” a man’s voice greeted. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, Grisha. It’s me.”
“Been a while.”
Pav laughed. “A couple years or so. Thought you might have changed the code.”
“I told you I wouldn’t.”
“Spasibo.”
She had so many questions in that moment. He spoke to this man—Grisha—like the two of them had known each other for years. The man came out of the hallway into the dim lighting, and she could see the gray at his temples, and the lines deepening his aging face. He had to be at least thirty years older than Pav, at least.
How would they know each other?
“The older you get,” Grisha said, “the more you look like him, you know?”
Pav cleared his throat. “I can’t remember his face most times.”
“Trust me, Pavel. You look just like your father. The room is empty—as it always is. You and your … friend there, keep it to a dull roar. You know the loft is always open to you, if you need to use it.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“If you’re around in the morning, stay for breakfast. We have to catch up.”
“Sure,” Pav agreed.
Grisha leaned to the side a bit and his gaze landed on Viktoria where she was peeking out around Pav. “Have a good night, you two.”
Then, the man grabbed a bottle of water sitting on the island in the kitchen area before he disappeared into the hallway again. He didn’t make a sound as he left, but she heard the click of a door closing somewhere in the darkness.
“Who was that?” she asked. “How do you know him?”
Pav’s hand squeezed her side again. “In a minute. Come on.”
She didn’t question him. He led her across the main area of the loft, and she took in the few scattered toys in a corner. Not to mention the gaming system sitting in front of the large flat-screen television, currently paused on some war game. She looked back at the shoes lining the wall next to the door, realizing there were every size, from men’s boots to children’s. Same with the coats lining the wall on hooks.
“How many people live here?”
“As many as he can keep, or as many that need help for a time,” Pav replied quietly. “There’s five bedrooms in the back. They built them in as they needed them.”
“They?”
“Grisha and my father.”
Her heart stopped for a second as she realized what he was telling her. This was where he lived … before the Compound and the chambers. Before hell had come