Chapter 18 Elena’s Source Vanishes Again #5
Elena swallowed. Her lawyer instincts - her journalist instincts - her survival instincts all collided.
If they transported Tomas under her name, they’d likely seize any materials that could contradict the story. That meant her notes. Her draft. Her backups. Her ledger data. Her access tokens.
And if they seized those, the hunt would become impossible to continue.
Unless she could force Tomas to speak before the system swallowed him.
Unless she could get to whatever unit held him.
Unless she could - A soft chime sounded from Matteo’s phone.
He didn’t try to hide it this time. Elena saw the screen flash a single line of text, bright and brief.
Matteo’s eyes went flat.
He glanced at Elena once, and in that glance she saw the same thing she’d felt earlier in Zurich - the sensation of a directive trying to pin him in place, trying to turn him into a tool rather than a man.
“They’re changing the route,” Matteo said quietly.
Elena’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”
Matteo’s voice stayed even. “They’re sending you out of the building. Now.”
The officer in front of them turned his head. “Speak less.”
Elena bit down on her tongue, but her mind kept moving. If they moved her faster, they would move Tomas faster too. They would keep him from contacting anyone. They would keep him from correcting anything. They would make sure her name stayed attached to his narrative until it hardened into truth.
They reached a service door. The handle was brushed metal, cold under Elena’s palm when the officer positioned her close enough to touch. A scanner flashed green as it read her identity, and Elena felt her skin crawl at how easily the system accepted her stolen name.
The door opened with a soft hiss.
Beyond it, the air changed. It was warmer, heavier. The smell of exhaust and damp asphalt drifted in, threaded with the faint metallic tang of something like blood that had been cleaned too quickly.
A vehicle idled outside. Elena could hear the engine, low and steady, like it was waiting for a command.
The officer shoved Elena forward with a hand at her back - not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to control her.
“Get in.”
Elena’s eyes stung with fury. “I want to speak to Tomas.”
“You don’t,” the officer said. “You want to survive.”
Matteo’s voice cut in, calm but lethal. “She will not be transferred without verification.”
The officer turned his head toward Matteo. “Verification comes later.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened. Elena watched him fight something inside himself - an impulse to pull his sidearm, an impulse to obey, an impulse to save her even if it meant shattering whatever chain of command had been built around him.
Matteo didn’t reach for his weapon. Instead, he stepped closer to the vehicle door, angling his body as if he were simply complying with a process.
Elena caught movement behind Matteo’s shoulder - another officer approaching from the side, holding a different kind of folder. Not the warrant folder. Something else.
A different kind of paper.
Matteo’s eyes flicked to it.
Elena’s stomach tightened. She knew that look - knew it from the way she’d seen Matteo study directives in his phone, like the words could be dangerous even before they were spoken.
The new officer held the folder up and opened it to a section Elena couldn’t read from her angle. The officer’s voice carried anyway, too clear in the open air.
“Transfer order in effect,” he said. “Elena Russo to be taken into custody for questioning related to Tomas Rinaldi’s assassination network involvement.”
Assassination network involvement.
The words were crafted to land in the public story later. They were made to survive scrutiny. They were made to sound plausible even to people who didn’t want to believe in conspiracies.
Elena’s throat tightened.
She tried to speak again, but the officer pushed a small device toward her - something to scan her wrist, something that would lock her identity into the system like a tag.
Elena jerked her arm back. “No.”
The officer’s eyes hardened. “You’re resisting.”
Matteo moved fast then - not in a blur of violence, but in a precise, practiced shift. He stepped in between Elena and the officer’s hand, his body blocking the device. His voice didn’t rise; it deepened.
“Back away.”
The officer’s mouth curled. “You’re not in control here.”
Matteo’s gaze didn’t waver. “I am where she is concerned.”
Elena felt heat spike in her chest, a strange mix of gratitude and dread. Gratitude because Matteo was still protecting her even as the warrant tried to drag her into a story she didn’t choose.
Dread because every second of resistance increased the chance of a real fight - and real fights left marks. Marks led to evidence. Evidence led to escalation.
The new officer lifted the folder again, flipping to a page and glancing at it like he was reading a line of authority he didn’t understand.
“Matteo,” he said, and Elena heard the subtle tone of someone who had been briefed about him. “You’re to remain with custody personnel. You’re to facilitate transfer compliance.”
Facilitate.
Not protect. Not