Chapter 9 Ava’s Evidence, Roman’s Promise #2
The tablet chirped again - then a dull thud hit the hallway wall, muffled through insulation. Someone moved fast out there. Not a guard’s pace. Not a courier’s.
Roman’s hand found Ava’s elbow and guided her toward the doorway - careful, decisive. “Stay behind me.”
Ava’s mouth tightened. “I’m not hiding.”
Roman didn’t answer. He couldn’t afford debate while footsteps approached and the tablet’s screen again flickered, this time with a line of text that hadn’t been there a second ago. A new message. Short.
BURN THE ORIGINAL.
Roman’s stomach dropped. That wasn’t a threat meant to stop him physically. It was a threat meant to control what he could prove.
He stared at the words until Ava leaned closer, her breath warming the side of his hand. “What does it say?”
Roman didn’t want her to read it. He didn’t want her to feel the implication: that whoever was watching had already decided the motion - her motion - was the real weapon.
He forced himself to speak anyway. “They want you to destroy the original folder. They’re baiting us into losing it.”
Ava’s eyes went sharp, attorney-bright. “They think I’m going to comply because it’s the only way to protect you.”
Roman’s expression went hard. “They think wrong.”
Ava’s voice lowered. “Roman… I need you to understand something. If the evidence implicates politicians and corporate holdings, this isn’t just a syndicate war. It’s a war for legitimacy. For contracts. For laws that can be bent without anyone getting their hands dirty.”
Roman’s mind flashed through the earlier courier’s redacted handler name and the way the chain of custody had been compromised. The conspiracy wasn’t limited to bribes and muscle. It reached into boards, offices, donors. Men who smiled at hearings while their underlings burned people alive.
His throat tightened. “I know.”
Ava’s gaze locked on his. “No. You don’t. Not yet.”
The hallway lock clicked. A heavy latch shifted like someone testing the door. Then came a muffled voice over a comm - static-laced, filtered, not Roman’s. Not Ava’s. Not the dead courier’s.
“Commander Roman,” the voice said, slow enough to be heard clearly. “You have five minutes to comply.”
Roman’s blood turned to ice. The hub had been scrubbed. The safe house had been scrubbed. And yet someone was speaking his title like they owned it.
Ava’s breath caught, and Roman felt her anger flare before she even moved. “Who is that?”
Roman didn’t take his eyes off the door. “It’s the handler.”
Ava’s fingers curled around the folder. “Then let me read the backup aloud. Let me make the record clear. If they want me quiet, they’ll have to kill me.”
Roman turned his head just enough to meet her gaze. “You won’t die for evidence.”
Ava’s eyes glittered with pain that refused to be called fear. “You’re wrong. I’ve already decided I won’t die without the truth on paper.”
Roman’s promise rose in him like a weapon he’d kept sheathed too long. He’d promised Ava protection, but in the past he’d thought protection meant controlling her choices. Now he understood the cost of that control.
He stepped closer, close enough that Ava could feel his control slipping into something more honest. His voice dropped to something that wasn’t meant for comms. “I will protect you.”
Ava’s lips parted. “Even if it ruins you?”
Roman’s answer came without hesitation. “Even if it costs me my position.”
The words settled between them like a vow made in blood. Ava stared at him for a beat too long, as if she was trying to decide whether to trust the man she’d just heard promise destruction of his own career - his own command - if it meant she lived long enough to use what she’d carried.
“Roman,” she said, careful now, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He smiled without warmth. “I’m not promising I’ll survive.”
The comm voice crackled again, impatient. “Commander. Five minutes.”
Roman moved. He grabbed the tablet, slammed it into a hard case with a sharp clack, and shoved it into Ava’s hands. “You read the evidence aloud. Not the message. Not the trigger. The catalog entry.”
Ava’s eyes widened. “You’re giving me the words that could - ”
“I’m giving you the words that will survive.” His gaze flicked to the etched name on the plate - then away, like he couldn’t bear to look at the confession too long. “If the handler wants you silenced, you won’t be. If the traitor wants you compromised, you’ll be documented.”
Ava’s throat bobbed. “And you?”
Roman lifted his gun, finally aiming it - not at Ava, not at the panel, but at the door that was about to give way. “I’ll make sure the moment they come through that door, the only thing they’re able to burn is themselves.”
The latch rattled. A second later, the door began to swing inward.
Ava’s voice was steadier than her hands as she looked down at the folder and pulled out the printed logs again. “Then stand with me.”
Roman’s breath came out slow. “I’m standing with you.”
The door opened.
And the first thing that hit the air wasn’t gun smoke - it was the smell of ozone from a device being activated too close, too fast, meant to fry electronics and erase evidence in the same breath.
Ava started to read anyway, lips shaping the first line of the catalog entry, her voice cutting through the hum of the hub like a judge’s gavel.
Roman fired the first shot at the tech pack strapped to the intruder’s chest - cruel precision, no hesitation.
The device sparked, screamed, and then the lights in the converted suite went out.
In the dark, Roman heard Ava inhale sharply - then heard the tablet case click open by itself, like a hand that wasn’t theirs had reached in to grab the words.