Page 34 of The Cost of Silence

Adi leans back in his chair. “We’re not ruling anything out yet. But whoever it is, they’re escalating. Which means you’re not going anywhere alone.”

I bristle. “I’m not a package.”

“No,” Nico says. “You’re a target.”

That lands like a stone in my stomach.

“Hey.” Matteo nudges my foot gently with his. “Look on the bright side. You’ve got three very overqualified babysitters now. Some people would pay good money for this level of attention.”

I huff out an unexpected laugh. “Is this your idea of reassurance?”

“It’s my idea of not letting you spiral.” His eyes soften, just a little. “We’re not letting anything happen to you.”

There’s a sincerity there that startles me. I glance at Nico, then Adi. They’re both watching me, different versions of the same intensity. It feels like being under a microscope and inside a safety net all at once.

Before I can answer, there’s a faint ding of a bell followed by a knock on the door. Nico checks the camera, then opens the door to a delivery guy with three large bags of food for dinner.

He takes them, thanks the guy, and shuts the door again with a finality that feels… safe.

“He’s feeding you all the reporter candy?” Matteo asks. “Coffee and trauma?”

Nico ignores him, setting containers out on the island. Pasta, roasted vegetables, grilled chicken, salad. Real food. Warm food. Comfort wrapped in cardboard and steam.

“Come eat,” he says, looking straight at me.

I don’t argue this time. My body’s trembling from more than just fear now. I realize I haven’t had more than a few bites since yesterday. I stand slowly, making my way to one of the stools. The three of them move too, one to the opposite side of the island, one next to me, one hovering like a guard.

We eat mostly in silence at first. Forks scraping gently, muted clinks of glass. The food is simple, but every bite pulls me a little back from the edge. The warmth spreads from my stomach outward, loosening something I hadn’t even realized was clenched.

“So,” Matteo says eventually, gesturing with his fork. “On a scale from one to ten, how much do you regret writing about us?”

I swallow, consider, then answer honestly. “Professionally? Zero. Personally?” I breathe out. “Ten.”

He nods, like he respects that. “Fair enough.”

Adi wipes his mouth with a napkin. “We’ll have Rossi increase security on the building. No one in or out without eyes on them. You don’t leave this penthouse without one of us or a security team, understood?”

“Is that a question?” I ask.

“It’s a condition of your staying here,” he replies. “You’re welcome to refuse. But your alternatives, given your building is currently uninhabitable and someone is actively trying to hurt you, are rather limited.”

It’s logical. It’s reasonable. It still feels like a cage.

I press my tongue against my teeth, thinking. “How long?”

Nico answers before Adi can. “Until we know who’s behind this and they’re neutralized.”

Neutralized.God. I’m not sure if I should be comforted or terrified by how easily that word rolls off his tongue.

“This isn’t permanent,” Nico adds, softer. “We’re not asking you to stay forever.”

The wordaskingfeels generous. “Okay,” I say finally. “But I keep working.”

Three sets of eyes lock on me.

I keep going before they can shut it down. “Not on you,” I add quickly. “On other things. Lighter pieces. Human interest. If I sit in this tower with nothing to do, I’ll climb the walls. And I can’t… I can’t lose that part of myself, too.”

Nico studies me for a long moment, searching for something. Whatever he finds, it makes his shoulders relax a fraction. “We’ll talk to your editor,” he says. “Set some boundaries. Make sure you’re not writing anything that gets more guns pointed in our direction while we’re finding the ones already aimed at you.”