Apartment 4b Novels & Stories

Inside the lobby, the air smelled faintly of cleaning solution and old carpet. My footsteps echoed too loudly in the hallway. I followed Aiden down the corridor, my heart pounding harder with every step. Apartment 4B. My hand hovered over the lock, I hesitated. This was supposed to be home, my home. It still was, only it didn't exactly feel that way. I unlocked the door and pushed it open. Sunlight spilled across hardwood floors in long golden lines. Dust motes floated lazily in the air. The couch sat exactly where it should.

I have never been out of the territory longer than six months and there’s no telling how long I’ll be away if what I heard from Alpha Whiteman is correct. “Let me handle this alpha. We both know that you don’t deal with health issues easily.” A much kinder voice breaks through the massive haze I’ve gone into. “You’re right about that. I’m turning in for the night. I’ll call Alpha Redmen in the morning to get some clarity on the situation.” “They seem close. Do we have any two bed apartments left?” “Yes Beta Greene, 12B on the first floor is available.” A female’s voice becomes apparent.

he had muttered before hurrying away. Mia pushed open the door to apartment 4B and stepped inside. The place was surprisingly huge. High ceilings, big windows overlooking the city, and a living room large enough to actually breathe in. The furniture looked old but expensive. Everything smelled faintly of musk, incense, and something earthy she could not quite place. “ Hello?” she called out. “Anyone home?” No answer.

The plasters have left the walls a long ago and most of the doors are either fixed or hanging on the hinges. "Which apartment number, Brady?" I ask Brady in a whisper. "Apartment number- 17, Boss." He tells me and it doesn't take me a minute to locate the last apartment on the first floor. The noises coming from the neighbors, both drunken husbands yelling on wives and children screaming in front of the television. The air only reeks of grease, alcohol and tobacco. How can someone live with families in such shitty place and what future these kids will have? "Oh..stop..you animal..ahh..You're hurting me now." A woman moans while the bed is slamming against the wall.

Reluctantly, I sent her a message. That night my face was full of smiles. It didn’t take long for me to receive a message back from Piper. Unit 707. After the elevator doors opened, I walked straight to the hallway on the right. According to the sign, unit 707 was on the right side of the building. If I notice, this apartment is quite luxurious with a pretty excellent security system. This apartment has a garden in the center of the building and they equipped the garden with a fishpond, so the air around here feels cool.

I went to the right wing of the floor and went inside my room when I reached the fifth door. So, actually, the apartment consists of 4 floors. It was said that the 3rd and 4th floors were prohibited for some reason. The 2nd floor is where the rooms are, while the 1st floor is where the landlord’s room, the kitchen, and the bathroom are. The shower room is for all, any gender, no special treatment, I think.

The lobby was dim as one overhead bulb buzzed weakly. Mailboxes lined the wall, most broken or hanging open. No concierge desk, no camera that I could see. My pulse ticked higher. Apartment 4C. The elevator had an OUT OF ORDER sign taped across it. Of course it did. I took the stairs, reaching the second and then the third floor… By the fourth I was breathing harder than I should have been and annoyed about it. Pregnancy, I thought bitterly, was proving itself unromantic already.

Romeo The architectural integrity of this building was an absolute nightmare, but as I stood quietly in the center of my dilapidated new living room, it was undeniably my greatest asset. Through the paper-thin plaster separating Apartment 4B from 4A, I could hear the frantic, beautiful chaos of Irene actively destroying her bedroom. There was the distinct screech of a closet door being shoved open along a rusted track. Then, a heavy thud—likely a pair of boots hitting the floorboards.

He took the stairs, taking them two at a time. He reached the fourth floor. Apartment 4B. He didn't knock. He didn't announce himself. He kicked the door. It was a cheap, hollow-core door. It splintered near the lock and swung open with a bang. Liam stepped inside. The apartment was small, sparsely furnished. A "safe house." It was empty. But it wasn't abandoned. There was a laptop on the table, still open. A half-drunk cup of coffee. A map of the city taped to the wall, with red circles drawn on it.

Inside the building: Dante Morelli. A man whose hands had once dealt in secrets too expensive to name. Vincenzo had already gone ahead, working his magic in a nearby café, slipping Morelli’s few remaining contacts just enough fear to loosen the man’s spine without triggering flight. Now, as Lucien and his team entered the stairwell, the tension thickened. Fourth floor. Apartment 4B. The door looked cheap, but the lock blinked red and green in alternating intervals. Biometric. Sophisticated for a man living in squalor.