Chapter 9 Rowan
ROWAN
The building never truly quiets. Even when the corridor outside our door falls silent for a few minutes at a time, something deeper inside the structure continues to move.
Freight cars connect somewhere beyond the walls with a hollow metallic impact that travels through the ground and into the concrete beneath my feet.
Steel drags against steel in the distance, followed by the low rumble of engines dragging heavy loads along the rail lines.
The sound carries through the building in slow vibrations that never completely disappear.
It’s been like that since they brought us here.
Tonight, though, the place's energy feels different.
Restless. The corridor has been busier than usual over the past hour.
Boots pass our door in hurried intervals, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in groups large enough that the vibration of their steps travels faintly through the floor.
Voices pass by in low bursts that cut off the moment someone approaches the door at the end of the hall.
Arkady’s death changed something. Even without seeing what happened beyond these walls, I know the balance of power inside this building has tipped.
The gunshot that echoed down the corridor still sits somewhere in my memory like a stone dropped into deep water, sending ripples outward through everything that followed.
Lila paces again. She’s been doing that since Ivan left the room, moving across the narrow floor in restless loops that never quite slow. Her arms remain folded tightly across her chest as if she’s trying to hold herself together physically.
Three steps toward the door. Turn. Three steps back toward the table. Turn again. Her boots scrape lightly against the concrete each time she pivots.
“You hear that?” she mutters suddenly.
I glance toward the ceiling, where the faint vibration of the trains continues to hum through the structure.
“I always hear it.”
“No.” She shakes her head, irritation hardening the motion. “Not the trains.”
She stops pacing long enough to tilt her head toward the door, listening more carefully than before.
Footsteps pass outside. Two sets this time. One voice says something low and quick before fading away again as the men continue down the corridor.
“They’re moving people around,” Lila says.
I’d already noticed. The pattern of movement outside the room has been changing gradually for the past hour, building into something more purposeful than routine patrols.
Guards who once walked the corridor at a slow, predictable pace now pass more quickly, their voices edged with tension that follows sudden leadership changes.
Arkady is gone. And Ivan… Ivan is reorganizing everything.
I rise slowly from the cot, pressing my palm briefly into the thin mattress to balance myself before standing upright.
A wave of nausea rises briefly beneath my ribs before easing after taking a careful breath through my nose.
The metallic taste that has lingered in my mouth since this morning returns briefly.
Lila notices my discomfort.
“You okay?” she asks, concerned.
“I’m fine.” The answer comes automatically.
Her eyes narrow as she studies my face, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she gestures vaguely toward the door.
“Do you think they’ll move us soon?” she asks, chewing on her lip.
“I do.” I tuck the loose strands that have slipped from my braided bun behind my ear. “This place belongs to Arkady.”
She considers that for a moment. “And Ivan won’t want to keep us in one of Arkady’s locations,” she says slowly.
“No.”
She exhales through her nose and presses her palms to her eyes. “That’s not good.”
The understatement would almost be funny if the situation were less serious.
The room feels smaller now that the truth has been spoken aloud. The concrete walls that once seemed merely restrictive now hold a different kind of pressure as the implications spread outward.
If Ivan moves us somewhere new, we lose what little familiarity we have gained here and start over with new walls, new guards, new routines, and deeper isolation.
Once we disappear into another location entirely, whatever chance we have of recognizing patterns or exploiting weaknesses shrinks dramatically.
And Kiren—
I force myself not to finish that thought.
Lila begins pacing again, but the movement has changed now. Her steps have more urgency than before, the tension in her shoulders visible with each turn she makes across the room.
“Then we have to get out before that happens,” she says.
I lean against the metal table, folding my arms while I watch her pace across the narrow room.
“That’s the idea,” I reply quietly, following the restless line of her movement from one wall to the other.
She stops in front of me. “You’re agreeing too quickly.”
“I’m not agreeing quickly,” I answer. “I’m agreeing because the alternative gets worse every hour we stay here.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re not arguing.”
“There isn’t much to argue about,” I tell her. “If Ivan moves us somewhere new, whatever small advantage we have here disappears.”
“But you’re not saying it won’t work either.”
“No,” I admit after a moment. “I’m saying it’s the only real chance we’re going to get.”
She studies my face, searching for any sign of doubt. “You actually think it’s possible?”
“I think it’s necessary,” I reply. “Those two things don’t always mean the same thing.”
Lila glances toward the door again, her attention drawn to the muffled sounds moving through the corridor beyond it. “They’ll notice if we’re gone.”
“Yes,” I say, pushing away from the table.
“And they’ll shoot us if we run.”
“They might,” I acknowledge. “But if we stay here long enough, Ivan might shoot us anyway.”
She studies me for another second before giving a short nod. “Okay.”
The decision forms in her posture before she speaks it aloud. The restless energy that had been driving her pacing changes into focus. “What do we need?”
“Timing,” I tell her.
“And opportunity,” she adds.
“Yes.”
Lila glances toward the metal table where the empty bottles from earlier still sit. “They’ll bring more water.”
“Eventually,” I reply, leaning against the wall now and letting my hand rest briefly against my abdomen.
“That woman, Maria?”
“Most likely,” I answer, glancing toward the door as if expecting it to open any second.
She’s the only person who has stepped into this room without the detached indifference the other guards seem to live behind.
Lila watches me, reading the direction my thoughts have already begun to take.
“You think she’d help us?” she questions.
“I honestly don’t know,” I admit, folding my arms loosely as I consider the possibility again. “But she didn’t look comfortable the last time she was here.”
“But you’re thinking about it.”
“I’m thinking about anything that gives us even the smallest advantage,” I tell her, meeting her eyes. “Right now, that list isn’t very long.”
Her eyes move toward the door again. “If she comes alone…”
“That’ll help,” I murmur, pinching the bridge of my nose while I think it through.
“And if the guards are distracted because Ivan is busy reorganizing everything…”
“That’ll help more.”
Lila leans both hands against the edge of the table and studies the floor before lifting her eyes again.
“What happens if we actually make it out of this room?” she asks.
“Then we keep moving,” I reply quietly.
Her brow furrows. “That’s not much of a plan.”
“It’s the only one available right now,” I respond, exhaling slowly as I consider the next steps. “Once we’re out of this room, we focus on distance first and details second.”
Lila chews on her lip, considering that. “And hope we don’t get shot in the first thirty seconds.”
“Something like that,” I admit, meeting her eyes.
She pauses before giving a reluctant nod. “Fair.”
The trains continue moving somewhere beyond the walls, their distant motion providing a continuous backdrop. The room feels smaller as the minutes go by. Eventually, Lila sits on the edge of the second cot, her knee bouncing restlessly while she stares at the floor.
“You still think Kiren will come?” she asks after a while. There’s no mockery in the question, only quiet curiosity.
I watch the faint movement of shadows along the concrete wall before answering. “Yes. I do.”
Lila tilts her head slightly. “How?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit, pushing away from the wall so I can look at her properly. “But Kiren doesn’t walk away from things that belong to him.”
Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. “So, you’re certain?”
“I’m certain he’ll try,” I reply, closing my eyes briefly.
The conviction behind the words isn’t something I can explain logically.
It doesn’t come from evidence or strategy, and if I tried to break it down into steps, it would probably fall apart under its own weight.
Still, the certainty exists, persistent and stubborn somewhere beneath the surface of everything else, and for now, that has to be enough.
Lila studies my face as if she’s trying to see what I see. “I wish I had your confidence,” she says quietly.
I let out a slow breath and shake my head. Before I can assess exactly what I’m feeling, the sound of footsteps moves along the corridor outside the door. Both of us immediately snap our attention to the metal frame as the steps grow louder, then stop directly on the other side.
A key slides into the lock.
Lila stills her restless leg, rising to her feet as the mechanism turns with a heavy metallic click.
The door opens with the familiar hiss of compressed air. Maria steps inside, carrying a small plastic tray with two fresh bottles of water and a plate of crackers balanced carefully in her hands. The door closes behind her.