Apartment 4b Novels & Stories

Haru slides on behind me and we ride off without looking back. It took Haru and me a week to find the apartment, only a couple of blocks from the club compound. We both had a lot of money saved from the odd jobs we used to do when we first got out of our hell, so we were able to buy the place. The apartment was nice... spacious, and in a pretty good neighborhood. The walls were pure white, with dark hardwood floors throughout. Three bedrooms with walk-in closets, two bathrooms, a big living room, and an open kitchen. We also had a balcony with a large glass sliding door. It was on the fourth floor, and thankfully, the elevator worked. There was even a swimming pool in the back and parking un

"We just want to make sure the right people get caught in the fire." The drive continued in a tense, watchful silence. We wove through the city until we reached a nondescript apartment complex on the edge of the industrial sector. It was the kind of place people went to be forgotten, peeling paint, dim hallways, and the constant hum of a nearby highway. Reyes led the way up three flights of stairs, his hand never straying far from his holstered weapon. Cassidy and Sage followed behind us, their eyes scanning every doorway. "Stay behind me," Reyes whispered as we reached Apartment 4B.

He said as they moved from one room to another, letting Marie see what he had been saying. “We have a barbecue here as well. If you want you can order it in advance. You can buy food in our canteen over there.” Beth pointed to the north part of the apartment. Beth asked them to go outside. “I have good news for you. This apartment is a 2-minute walk from the nearby beach. You will see the garden views. And you can connect to free WiFi 24 hours a day. Marie was pleased with everything that was explained to her.

Few minutes later. We arrived at the Gringo's apartment; a 3 Storey building . Pablo parked the car beside the fences. He opened the door and I stepped out of the car. I narrowed my eyes at the building in front of me. Then my gaze darted to the first floor; were Antonio's apartment was, room 3b to be precise. I shrugged and strolled inside the building with Pablo. I stopped at the entrance. My eyes drifted around the insearch of the fucking room 3b....when a lady called.

Below us, the city shrank into a grid of tiny lights before slipping beneath the clouds. LaGuardia was a blur of fluorescent lights and exhaust fumes. I lugged my duffel through the terminal, out onto the curb where the air hit cold and smelled of diesel and wet asphalt. Two subway lines, a missed stop, and three flights of narrow, creaking stairs later, I stood in front of Apartment 4B. The brass mailbox downstairs had a scrap of yellowed paper slotted inside: T. VANE, written in faded blue ink. My hand lingered over the letters for a second. The first real proof I was actually here.

Just a dirty, beer-soaked bachelor pad with three varsity animals who owned my body. We walked up the external metal staircase, the stairs groaning under our weight. Jake unlocked the door to Apartment 4B and shoved it open. The smell hit me instantly—a thick, heavy mix of stale pizza, cheap weed, dirty laundry, and musky sweat. The living room was a disaster zone. Empty beer cans were stacked into a pyramid on the coffee table, a gaming console was flashing on a massive TV, and there were clothes strewn everywhere. "Welcome home, princess," Marcus laughed, kicking a pair of dirty boxers out of the middle of the floor.

“Be good, champ. We’ll be back before dinner.” The drive to Queens was quiet. Alexander drove. Elena stared out the window. The city blurred past—brownstones, bodegas, graffiti-covered walls. She kept replaying the fountain meeting. The man’s voice. The way he’d said “good girl” like she was a child to be praised. They parked two blocks away from the address. Walked the rest of the way. Alexander’s hand stayed near her lower back—protective, grounding. The building was old. Brick. Four stories. No doorman. The front door buzzed open with a broken lock. They climbed the stairs. Fourth floor. Apartment 4B at the end of the hall.

Then, “You’ve always protected everyone but yourself.” That made something sharp twist in my chest. It wasn’t even an accusation. It was just… truth. The drive wasn’t too long. Thirty minutes, maybe. But it felt like I was being driven into a whole new life. One that didn’t have Nicho’s shadow in it. We pulled into a quiet neighborhood tucked away from the chaos. Simple buildings. Brick walls. A few potted plants on porches. It was safe, hidden, and perfect. “Apartment 2B,” Dante said as he parked. “I didn’t get you anything fancy. Just quiet. Secure. Lease is in your name.”

The small apartment felt unusually quiet when Gian unlocked the door. It was on the seventh floor, with a balcony overlooking the city park. Not very big, but comfortable enough for two people. The living room and kitchen shared an open layout, furnished with modern minimalist pieces. Shades of gray and cream dominated the space, giving it a calm yet slightly cold atmosphere.

It reminds me of when we were kids, before everything got complicated. "Come on," she says. "One more viewing. The listing said there's a dishwasher." "All the dishwashers in this neighborhood are named Miguel." "Shut up." I follow her out of the apartment. Jax The fourth apartment is worse. It's in a building that smells like cabbage and despair. The elevator is broken. The walls are thin enough that I can hear someone arguing in the next unit. And the bedroom is barely big enough for a twin bed. Jess loves it.