Chapter 182 The Message

Rafe's POV The city hummed outside, a constant, indifferent roar of traffic and distant sirens that served as a soundtrack to my self-imposed imprisonment. Inside the dusty, forgotten loft, the only sound was the soft, rhythmic breathing of Jackson. He was tiny, vulnerable, and utterly dependent on me, Rafe, a man who, until a few weeks ago, had only ever truly depended on himself. My gaze drifted from the sleeping kid to the grimy windowpane, where the late afternoon sun struggled to penetrate the accumulated grime. Below, the narrow street was a tapestry of faded brick and discarded dreams, a place where few bothered to look twice. It was perfect. Perfectly anonymous. Perfectly isolated. This wasn't home, not in any sense of the word, but it was our sanctuary. An abandoned artist's loft, tucked away on the third floor of a derelict building slated for demolition. I'd known about it for years, a relic from a different life, a time when I dabbled in things I probably shouldn't have, bu