Chapter Three
1164 Words
Elena barely slept not that she didn't try.
She locked every window in the apartment. Checked the front door three times. Pulled the curtains shut. Turned off every light. Then spent the next four hours lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling while every creak of the old building sounded like a threat.
By three in the morning, she had convinced herself someone was outside her apartment. By four, she was certain she was losing her mind. And by six, she gave up on sleep entirely. The coffee she made tasted terrible. She drank it anyway which helped. The black car was gone by the time she peeked through the curtains.
The street looked normal. People walked dogs. A delivery truck stopped outside the bakery on the corner. A cyclist sped past. Everything looked exactly as it always had.
Which somehow made the previous night feel even stranger.
Had there really been someone watching her? Or had exhaustion and fear finally gotten the better of her?
Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. A text from Sofia.
*Don't forget dinner Sunday.*
Elena smiled despite herself.Trust Sofia to worry about family dinners while Elena was spiraling into paranoia.
She typed back a quick response before grabbing her bag. If she sat in her apartment all day thinking about those messages, she'd drive herself crazy.Work was better.
By eight-thirty she was back in the newsroom.
The familiar noise helped calm her nerves. People moved between desks. Elena had just settled into her chair when Ben appeared holding two coffees.
"You look awful."
"Good morning to you too."
"I'm serious."
He handed her one of the cups.
"You look like you fought a war."
"Didn't sleep much."
Ben studied her face.Something in his expression shifted.
"What happened?"
For a moment Elena considered brushing it off.Instead, she pulled out her phone. Ben's eyebrows rose as he read the messages.
His expression darkened.
"Okay."
"What?"
"That's not normal."
"I know."
"You reported this?"
"To who?"
"The police."
Elena snorted.
"And tell them what? Someone sent me scary texts?"
Ben didn't answer immediately.
His gaze remained fixed on the screen.
"You said your investigation is connected to powerful people."
"Maybe."
"And now someone's watching your apartment."
"Maybe."
"Elena."
She sighed.
"Fine. Definitely."
Ben leaned back and he actually looked worried.
"I don't like this."
"Neither do I."
"So drop the story."
She laughed.
The look Ben gave her suggested he wasn't joking.
"You're serious."
"Very."
"No."
"Elena—"
"No."
His shoulders slumped.
"I knew that was coming."
"Then why ask?"
"Because I'd feel guilty if I didn't."
The conversation ended when her editor stepped out of his office.
Martin Graves was a man permanently fueled by caffeine and bad moods. He pointed directly at Elena.
"My office."
Several reporters immediately looked up.A few exchanged sympathetic glances. Nobody enjoyed being summoned by Martin. Elena grabbed her notebook and followed him.
The office door closed behind them. Martin dropped a file onto his desk.
"Tell me you're making progress."
Elena sat down.
"I'm working on it."
"You've been working on it for three weeks."
"These type of cases take time."
"Does not mean it won't produce results."
She bit back a response because arguing with Martin was rarely productive.
He rubbed his forehead.
"Look, Elena. I like you."
That was usually a bad sign.
"But I need something."
"I'm close."
"You always say that."
"This time I mean it."
Martin stared at her for several seconds.
Then sighed.
"One week."
"What?"
"You have one week."
Elena's stomach tightened.
"If you can't produce something solid, we're moving you onto another assignment."
"Martin—"
"One week."
His tone left no room for negotiation. The meeting was over.Elena left the office feeling worse than before.Now she had threats.A possible stalker.And a deadline.
Perfect.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur.She made calls.Sent emails.Reviewed documents.Most led nowhere. Some weren't answered at all.
Then, shortly after noon, her phone rang.
A source. One she'd been trying to contact for days.
Her pulse quickened. Finally.
She answered immediately.
"Hello?"
"Elena."
The man's voice sounded strained.Almost frightened.
"You wanted to talk."
"Yes."
Silence followed.
Then a shaky breath.
"I can't."
Her heart sank.
"What do you mean?"
"I can't talk about this."
"You said you had information."
"I did."
"What changed?"
Another pause.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"They know."
A chill crawled down her spine.
"Who knows?"
"You need to stop asking questions."
The exact words from the messages.
Elena's grip tightened around the phone.
"What happened?"
"You don't understand what you're involved in."
"Then help me understand."
"No."
His answer came instantly.Almost desperately.
"No more calls. No more questions. Walk away."
The line disconnected.Elena stared at the phone. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Something was very wrong. That much was becoming impossible to ignore.
She quickly grabbed her bag.
Ben looked up.
"Where are you going?"
"Meeting someone."
"You have a meeting?"
"Not officially."
His expression suggested he already regretted asking. Two hours later Elena stood outside a small café near the waterfront. Her source had agreed to meet after several more calls.
Reluctantly but he'd agreed. That was enough. She checked the time. Five minutes late. Not unusual.Ten minutes.Still nothing.Fifteen.
A bad feeling settled in her stomach.Twenty.The chair across from her remained empty. Thirty.
Finally, she gave up. Something had happened. She could feel it.
Frustrated, Elena paid for her untouched coffee and headed back toward her car. Halfway there, she noticed the crowd. People had gathered near the corner. Several police vehicles blocked the street.
Curiosity pulled her closer.
A reporter's instincts. The crowd parted just enough for her to see. And the blood drained from her face. An ambulance. Police officers. Someone had been attacked. A familiar name reached her ears. The name of the source who had been supposed to meet her.
Elena froze.
No.
A police officer guided people back. Someone said the victim had survived. Barely.Another person mentioned a hit-and-run. Witnesses claimed a black SUV had sped away.
Elena's hands began shaking.
It couldn't be connected.
Could it?
But deep down she already knew the answer.The timing was too perfect.The warning too clear. The fear in her source's voice suddenly made sense.
He hadn't been afraid of talking. He'd been afraid of what would happen if he did. And now someone had tried to silence him.
Elena stood there as the realization settled heavily over her.
This was bigger than corruption. Bigger than politics. Bigger than a simple investigation.
For the first time, she wasn't just uncovering a story. She was uncovering something powerful. Something willing to hurt people to stay hidden. And somewhere at the center of it all was a man whose name kept appearing every time she got close to the truth.
Luca Moretti.
The question was no longer whether he was involved. The question was whether she would survive long enough to find out how.
- Writer
