Page 29 of The Cost of Silence

She exhales, a shudder that shakes both of us. Her hands bunch in the front of my coat, clutching rather than pushing away. The top of her head fits under my chin a little too well.

“I didn’t expect you to care.”

“I didn’t expect you to matter,” I answer so quietly I know she doesn’t catch it.

For a moment, we just stand there, two people on a smoke-stained sidewalk, holding on against a world that keeps taking.

Anyone walking past would think this is normal, a boyfriend comforting his girlfriend after a fire. They wouldn’t see the way every muscle in my body is coiled, ready to snap at the first sign of threat. They wouldn’t know I’m cataloguing exits, faces, insignias on uniforms, even as I hold her.

She probably thinks I’d do this for anyone.

Maybe I would.

Maybe I wouldn’t.

I don’t look too closely at that.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles against my chest after a minute, pulling back. Her hand makes a vague gesture toward the building, the chaos, her bruised “You didn’t sign up for… this.” face.

“Technically, you didn’t either,” I point out.

Her mouth twists. “I wrote a story. I didn’t ask for… arson and attempted murder as a reply.”

I file that away. Arson. Attempted murder. Words the police will use eventually, if they aren’t already. Words my enemies understand far too well.

“I’ll get my people on it,” I say. “Find out where the fire started exactly, who was in the building, who benefits. We’ll make sure you have what you need for insurance.”

“I have renter’s insurance,” she says automatically, as if that matters in the face of charred memories.

“Good. I’ll make sure they pay out fast.”

She gives me a look. “You’re really going to bully an insurance company for me?”

“Yes.” I don’t even hesitate.

Her brows lift. “Why?”

Because your fear feels like a fist around my throat. Because I should have anticipated this. Because my father would haunt me if I let collateral damage pile up around my name.“Because it was my world you poked,” I say instead. “My enemies. That makes this my mess.”

She studies me like she wants to argue, but the fight seems to drain out of her. What’s left is bone-deep exhaustion.

A gust of wind cuts down the street, carrying more smoke with it. She coughs once, winces, hand flying to her ribs. That pulls me out of the quiet moment fast.

“We’re done here,” I say. “You’ve seen it. Now we go.”

“I should… talk to the building manager,” she protests weakly. “Find out what happens next.”

“I’ll talk to them.” I jerk my chin toward the cop still watching us with half an eye. “You’re going back to the car before your lungs decide they don’t like the smoke.”

Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again on something else. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she says, the words almost swallowed by the noise around us. “I mean, my mom would take me in, obviously, but she’d worry herself sick, and she doesn’t have the space, and I still need to work, and all my backups are in there, and—”

“You’re staying with me,” I cut in.

She blinks. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Nico, I can’t just move into your place like some—”