Chapter 2 The Bodyguard’s Unasked Question #2
The courier’s gaze drifted to the door. Not to Roman. Not to Ava. To the space beyond them, like he was measuring how quickly someone might come retrieve him if he didn’t play his part.
Roman followed his eyes and felt the absence of a presence that should have been there. No footsteps in the corridor. No radio chatter. The safe house was scrubbed. The communications were controlled.
Which meant someone could be listening without being seen.
Roman’s voice dropped. “You’re being monitored.”
The courier laughed once, harsh. “Of course.”
Ava leaned in slightly, lowering her tone so it wasn’t aimed at Roman. It was aimed at the courier’s conscience. “Who benefits if I don’t file?” she asked, almost gently. “Who benefits if I file anyway and get killed for it?”
The courier’s throat worked. “You’re asking like you want to save yourself,” he said. “Like you don’t already know the answer.”
Ava’s lips parted. For a moment, Roman thought she would press harder, but instead she went quiet - so quiet Roman could hear her breathing, could feel the fight inside her shift.
Then she said, “I know enough to be dangerous.”
The courier’s eyes widened, just a fraction.
Roman’s pulse kicked. He didn’t like that Ava was learning the shape of the lie in real time. He didn’t like that every second she stayed in this room, she risked being turned into a weapon by someone who understood her mind.
But she wasn’t wrong. The enemy had baited him with a courier that sounded like truth. They’d used his protective instincts to bring her down here, where her evidence could be used - or destroyed - or redirected.
Ava had always been fearless. Now she added something else: an unasked question that threatened to become a confession.
Roman stepped closer to her, forcing the conversation back to the objective. “Handler,” he repeated. “Handler name.”
The courier shook his head, slower this time. “Redacted.”
Ava’s eyes met Roman’s for the first time since she’d entered. The look wasn’t pleading. It was challenge. It was also something more dangerous - understanding.
“You think I’m the only one who can interpret the redaction,” she said.
Roman’s jaw tightened. “I think you’re the only one who won’t accept it.”
Ava’s mouth tightened, and Roman saw the exact moment her legal instincts stopped being a tool and turned into a wound.
“If the redaction is on my evidence,” she said, “then someone inside The Shadows has access to my chain of custody. Someone has access to my seal.” Her voice went firmer.
“Or someone has access to the process around it.”
Roman’s throat went dry. The safe house was scrubbed. The folder was sealed with Ava’s private seal. That seal wasn’t decorative. It was proof of origin.
If it had been compromised, then the leak wasn’t just a mole. It was operational.
Roman kept his face controlled. “Who has access to your seal?”
Ava flinched like he’d struck a tender spot. “That’s the question,” she said, and the bitterness in her tone surprised him - surprised them both, maybe. “And it’s the part you don’t want to ask out loud.”
The courier’s smile returned, weaker now. “You’re both smarter than they budgeted for.”
Roman raised the gun slightly, not to shoot - just to make the air between them feel like a decision. “Where is the handler located?”
The courier’s eyes flickered with calculation. “Not here,” he said. “You won’t get it from me. But you’ll get it from what she carries.”
Ava’s gaze dropped to the folder. For a second, her expression softened into something almost private, and Roman hated that he wanted to see it, hated that his protectiveness leaned toward possessiveness.
The softness didn’t last.
She met Roman’s eyes again. “You’re convinced this is an enemy move,” she said. “But what if it’s internal control? What if the leak’s purpose isn’t to help the syndicate - it’s to force me to act in a way that makes me disqualified?”
Roman felt the truth of that possibility settle in his bones. Disqualified. Silenced. Neutralized without a bullet. The legal world did that quietly. The mafia world just hid behind it.
He stared at Ava, and for the first time since he’d moved her into custody, he let himself consider what she might already know. Ava had been trained to read documents like they were living things. She’d been trained to smell tampering before it became a disaster.
He’d been treating her evidence like bait instead of like a lifeline.
Ava’s voice turned rougher, and it wasn’t the attorney voice anymore. It was the woman under it. “I need you to understand something,” she said. “If they can manipulate my evidence trail, then they can manipulate what you think you’re saving me from.”
Roman swallowed. The basement air felt too cold, like the building was trying to freeze his decisions.
“What do you need me to understand?” he asked, careful - because every careful word was a risk. Because he didn’t know what he wanted from her when the truth was finally this close.
Ava’s eyes didn’t waver. “That I’m not just stubborn,” she said. “I’m terrified that you’re going to make the wrong assumption, and I’m going to watch it happen.”