Page 223 of End Game

“And I'll show you the room after they finish comparing load-bearing hardware.”

I stop. “They're going to compare load-bearing hardware?”

“Oh, one hundred percent.”

I look toward the stairs again.

Fuck.

Ronan

Carter calls it the blue room.

The name is technically accurate, though once I step inside, the color is considerably less interesting to me than the amount of forethought built into everything around it.

Oddly, Micah and I have never talked about putting an actual bed in the basement, but the bed is a center point in this room.

It has attachment points along both the frame and headboard. Restraints are organized by material and purpose rather than simply displayed.

Impact implements occupy two walls, with smaller equipment stored out of sight in drawers. An overhead suspension bar spans above the room near the bed.

I stop beneath it and look up.

Carter notices immediately. “That was Ethan and me.”

I glance at him. “The bar or the room?”

“Most of it. He and I built it out together before any of this got as complicated as it is now.” He gestures around us. “The bar was professionally installed, though. We had enough sense not to DIY the part meant to potentially support a person.”

“Good.”

Carter laughs. “I feel like I just passed an inspection.”

“Not quite yet.”

That makes Micah smile.

Jeremiah folds his arms, looking entirely too entertained.

Carter points above us. “Reinforced across multiple joists. Installer knew exactly what we planned to use it for.”

“What is it rated for?”

Carter answers.

I ask about the attachment hardware, and when the answer becomes more specific than Carter remembers, he pulls out his phone. “I have the original invoice somewhere. Ethan probably remembers the exact hardware because he remembers useless shit like serial numbers.”

“That isn't useless if you're suspending a human being from it.”

“Okay, you and Ethan are also going to get along when it comes to these things.”

Jeremiah makes a quiet sound that might be a laugh.

I look at the bar again, mentally comparing it to my basement. I have a ceiling-mounted restraint point, but its purpose is entirely different. Cami's hands go above her head. It gives me positioning and limits movement, but I have never treated it as a load-bearing suspension system because it isn't designed to be one.

This is.

The distinction matters.