Chapter 18 Elena’s Source Vanishes Again #2
“Immediate compliance required.”
Elena’s hands shook as she held her breath. Her mind flashed through her newsroom - her secured hallway, her office locks, her archived materials, her source files. She could already feel the panic that would bloom in the building when a warrant hit screens and legal notices started circulating.
They weren’t just hunting Tomas.
They were using Elena’s identity as a weapon against her, turning her into a story the police would swallow whole.
Matteo leaned toward her ear, voice low. “We need to move.”
Elena swallowed. “Where?”
Matteo’s eyes flicked toward the corridor ahead. “Anywhere they can’t reach your name.”
Elena forced herself to think. If she was being routed into public custody, then this wasn’t just a local arrest. It was a choke point. A way to separate her from Matteo. From the drive. From proof.
But Tomas - Tomas was her thread to the truth. If he’d been arrested under her name, it meant someone had used her identity to pull him into their web. It meant the dead numbers weren’t dead at all. They’d been dead to her on purpose, while her name opened doors for someone else.
Elena pushed her fingers against the inside of the service panel, trying to steady herself. “Tomas isn’t safe if they’ve used my name.”
Matteo’s expression sharpened with grim agreement. “No.”
Elena’s breath tasted metallic, like she’d bitten her own tongue. “We have to find him.”
Matteo hesitated. It was a small pause, but Elena felt it like a crack in glass.
Then the phone buzzed in his hand again, and Matteo’s body tightened.
Elena watched his thumb hover over the screen as if it were a trigger. His eyes moved over the text, and something in his face went flat.
“What?” Elena demanded.
Matteo didn’t answer immediately. He looked at the corridor, then at her, then down at the phone like it might bite him.
“They’re ordering me to stand down,” he said quietly.
Elena’s anger flared hot. “Stand down? From what? From saving Tomas? From - ”
Matteo’s gaze cut to hers. “From interfering with the warrant.”
Elena stared at him. “So they can take me, and they can take him. And you’re supposed to let it happen because a message came through a compromised channel.”
Matteo’s jaw flexed. The silence that followed was worse than any threat. Elena could feel his discipline battling something more primal - something that wanted to tear the phone in half.
“You can’t protect me forever,” Elena said, surprising herself with how steady her voice sounded. The steadiness came from fury, not calm. “But you can protect Tomas.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not letting them take you into custody.”
“You will if you don’t - ” Elena broke off, because her mind had caught on the word again: broadcast. Public. Police. Warrant.
If they pushed her name into the system, then any attempt to resist would look like guilt. Any attempt to contact Tomas would be interpreted as flight. Any attempt to bring proof would be framed as tampering.
They were weaponizing her journalism credibility and turning her into a suspect. A woman who “stole” evidence. A woman who “fabricated” leads. A woman who “ran” from the law.
Elena’s throat tightened. She could almost hear the headlines forming like rot.
Matteo stepped out from the service panel, scanning both ends of the hallway. “We don’t go toward Tomas by calling.”
Elena blinked. “Then how?”
Matteo’s voice dropped. “By using the same system they’re using.”
Elena stared at him. “You mean - ”
He didn’t say it. He just moved, fast but controlled, leading her down a side corridor that smelled faintly of bleach. The building’s lighting shifted - dimmer here, flickering - so their shadows looked wrong on the walls.
They reached a stairwell door. Matteo opened it with a quick turn of the handle, then paused to listen.
From above, footsteps thundered. From below, a radio crackled with static.
Elena felt the air change as they descended. The temperature dropped, the dampness thicker. The stairwell smelled like wet concrete and old detergent - the kind that never fully leaves even after someone scrubs up blood.
She tried to keep her breathing quiet. Tried not to imagine her own name flashing on screens while Tomas’s body - whatever state it was in - became evidence in someone else’s story.
Another buzz from Matteo’s phone. He held it low, thumb hovering.
Elena watched his face. “Matteo.”
He looked at her. “What?”
“Don’t obey the part that hurts him.”
Matteo’s gaze stayed on her for a beat too long. Elena saw something in his eyes then - an echo of the confession that had followed a stairwell standoff with Pietro’s shadow. A sense of directives and permission and traps.
She hated that she was right about the world being built on manipulation.
She also hated that Matteo could be manipulated at all.
Matteo’s thumb finally tapped. His phone went silent for a second, then the screen lit again - new information, sharper, more urgent.
He swore under his breath.
“What is it?” Elena asked, voice tight.
Matteo’s eyes darkened. “They’re routing the warrant to a station.”
Elena’s pulse spiked. “Which station?”
He didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he glanced toward the stairwell landing, where a security camera sat like an eye. He looked away from it, as if refusing to feed it with his attention.
Then he said, “Your name is on it. They want you to be found near your newsroom.”
Elena’s stomach turned. “They’re making it look like I’m hiding.”
Matteo nodded once, grim. “And if you run, they get what they need. If you don’t run, they still get what they need.”
Elena felt the corridor press in around her. Her shoulders ached from the tension of holding herself together. “So what do we do?”
Matteo’s voice went colder. “We don’t give them your movement. We take theirs.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out the transfer device - small, matte, unremarkable, like something that belonged in a pocket instead of a weapon against a security system. Elena had seen it used before, but never with this kind of urgency.
Matteo crouched at the stairwell door’s access panel. The metal was scuffed from use. He slid the transfer device in, pressed it to the reader, and waited a fraction too long.
A soft click answered.
The door unlocked.
Elena stared at him. “You can open it?”
Matteo didn’t look up. “I can open it.”
“Then open it and - ”
“Not yet.”
The stairwell landing held a narrow window to the outside. Rain smeared the glass with a dull sheen. Neon from the street beyond bled into the concrete like bruises.
Elena pressed a hand to the railing. Cold metal seeped into her skin. She could hear a patrol car idling somewhere outside, tires hissing faintly on wet pavement.
Matteo’s phone buzzed again, and this time he didn’t check it. He just held it, as if waiting for the directive to finish speaking.
A voice sounded in his earpiece - one Elena couldn’t hear clearly. Matteo’s face tightened. He mouthed something without sound, then snapped his gaze to Elena.
“They’re moving Tomas,” he said.
Elena’s breath caught. “Where?”
Matteo shook his head. “Not enough time. They want him processed under your name.”
The words twisted Elena’s stomach into knots. Processed. Filed. Recorded. A paper trail that would make it impossible for her to tell the truth later because everyone would think her story had been written by the same hands.
Her hands curled into fists. “Then we find him before they file him.”
Matteo held her gaze. “If we move now, we’ll trigger the warrant enforcement. They’ll assume you’re resisting.”
Elena swallowed. “Good.”
Matteo blinked, startled by her certainty.
Elena leaned closer, whispering through her anger because it was the only thing that kept her from collapsing. “Let them assume. I’m not going to let them control the story. Tomas is the proof I need. If they’ve used my identity to take him, then my identity is the lever.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened. “Your identity is bait.”
Elena smiled without humor. “Then I’ll bite back.”
The stairwell door swung open at Matteo’s touch. Cold rain air rushed in, sharp and damp. The smell of wet asphalt hit Elena first, then exhaust, then the faint metallic scent of a weapon’s oil.
They stepped out into a narrow service corridor behind the building. Trash bins lined the wall. A flickering light buzzed overhead, making everything look sickly.
Footsteps echoed ahead.
Matteo moved them into the shadow of the corridor, one hand guiding Elena with a firm, silent pressure at her elbow. Elena hated the fact that she trusted him enough not to pull away. Trust didn’t make her weak. It made her dangerous.
Two men in dark uniforms rounded the corner, their radios clipped to their shoulders. They didn’t look at Elena at first, because Matteo stood closer to the light.
One of them spoke into the radio. “Unit requesting confirmation of Elena Russo warrant status.”
Elena’s blood went ice-cold.
Matteo leaned in slightly, close enough that Elena could see the exact tension in his throat as he listened.
The radio crackled with the response. “Confirmed. Suspect Elena Russo is to be located at - ”
The name hit Elena like a physical blow. It carried on, listing her newsroom address with enough specificity to make her stomach churn. The way the voice said it sounded rehearsed, like someone had read it off a script instead of a file.
Elena’s mouth opened, then closed.
Matteo watched her reaction. He didn’t speak.
The radio continued, listing directions. Then the voice said, “Proceed to intercept.”
The men started toward the stairwell entrance.
Elena’s thoughts sprinted. If they were being directed to the newsroom, then the warrant wasn’t only about Tomas. It was about cutting her off from everything she’d been building.
Matteo’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at it quickly, then tucked it away without reading it out loud. That alone told Elena it was worse than she’d imagined.
“What now?” Elena whispered.
Matteo’s eyes stayed on the approaching men. “We go to the newsroom.”