Page 8 of Keeping Knight

Maybe she’ll invite me in this time. Since I’ll be right outside her door, rather than downstairs in the lobby, the invitation might come more naturally. She hasn’t asked me inside yet, and I haven’t suggested it, just like I haven’t brought up anything that could be considered a date, like stopping for coffee or meeting for a drink over the weekend.

Dating complicates things, after all. It requires a time commitment I’m not sure I can spare. It leaves an opening to be hurt. To discover the person you cared about was only using you.

Dating only complicates things, I remind myself whenever I get the idea of asking Ruby out. It might seem like a good idea. But do I really want to risk it? Or is it better to leave things as they are?

Except I’m not really. I chuckle ruefully at myself as I head down the hallway. If I were really set on leaving things alone, I wouldn’t have offered to walk Ruby to class. My pace wouldn’t be quickening as I get closer to her apartment. I wouldn’t be hoping that she’ll invite me inside once I get there.

When I’m a few doors down from Ruby’s, a muffled scream breaks the quiet of the hallway.

Instinctively, my muscles tense. My left hand dives into my pocket, where I always carry a small switchblade, a habit I’ve held onto even after I left the Army. As my fingers wrap around it, I spin around, half expecting to see someone behind me. But there’s no one.

I hold my breath and listen for the sound again.

There could be a hundred explanations for it. A scary movie. A giant cockroach. Someone could have received good news and shouted in excitement.

Or someone could be in trouble.

Ruby could be in trouble.

It’s unlikely. But my gut won’t let go of the possibility.

What if the sound came from Ruby’s apartment? And while I’m standing here, doing nothing, she could be hurt. Frightened. In danger.

Keeping my steps as quiet as possible, I hurry to Ruby’s door. Once I’m there, I lean my ear close to it, listening.

The first few seconds, there’s nothing. No buzz of voices or a laugh track on the TV. Not the soft melody of music playing. Not the pleasant lilt of Ruby’s voice as she talks to her best friend, Grace—something Ruby told me she often does before getting ready for bed.

But something I learned in the Army was never to assume safety based on a first impression. Take the time to observe. To assess the situation. Acting on impulse is one of the quickest ways to get yourself and your team killed.

So I press my ear to the smooth wood and wait.

And there.

From inside, something thunks.

It’s a dull, heavy thud, almost like something fell. Not furniture, or anything breakable, but a person.

Adrenaline surges.

My fingers tighten around the switchblade.

Then there’s another soft thump, followed by a low grunt.

An icy band wraps around my chest and squeezes.

Something’s wrong. This isn’t my gut’s occasional paranoia playing tricks on me. Something bad is going on inside Ruby’s apartment. And I need to do something about it.

First, I rap on the door; three hard knocks in quick succession. “Ruby,” I call, pitching my voice louder than normal. “Ruby. It’s Micah. Is everything okay?”

There’s no answering response. No flurry of footsteps hurrying towards the door.

“Ruby,” I repeat more loudly. I don’t want to shout, given that I’m not sure she’s in trouble, and I don’t want to piss off Ruby’s neighbors if she’s not. “Ruby. Are you okay? I heard something⁠—”

Inside the apartment, something shatters.

A deep voice mutters something unintelligible.

A woman yelps.