“Yes.”
“You saw the circulation figures.”
“Yes.”
“You need to retract the article.”
The words land with a weight I feel in my spine. “I can’t do that.”
“You can, and you should.” His tone is sharper than yesterday. “You have no idea who you have angered, Clara. This is not about a low-level councilman. This is Sharov. This is people who make problems disappear.”
The room feels smaller. I grip the strap of my bag. “Every fact is solid. The sources stand. We double checked the records together.”
“I know the work is clean. That is not the point.” He runs a hand through his hair. “There is more at play here than journalistic ethics. There is your life.”
He does not say it lightly. That scares me more than any online comment.
“I can’t take it down,” I say, each word careful. “If I retract now, it tells everyone that he can control the press by existing. That we only tell the truth when it’s convenient. That’s not why I’m here.”
His shoulders sag. “You’re twenty-one. You’re not supposed to be on his radar.”
“Then he should not be in bed with our elected officials.”
He grimaces. “You sound very noble, until someone follows you home.”
My pulse stutters. The image of the black car flashes in my mind. I don’t mention it. I don’t want to see his expression if I confirm his fears.
“Keep your phone on,” he says. “Stay in groups when you can. Don’t walk alone late at night. If anything feels off, you call campus security or the police. Immediately.”
“I’ll be careful,” I say. It feels like a promise I cannot fully control.
As I leave his office and step back into the hallway, I notice it again.
A man stands near the end of the corridor. Dark jacket. No backpack. He pretends to study a bulletin board, but his posture is wrong. He is too still. When I glance his way, his gaze flicks toward me and then away.
In the lobby downstairs, another man sits on a chair near the entrance. He has a newspaper open, but he hasn’t turned a page since I walked in. His eyes lift for a second as I pass.
Outside the building, a third man leans near the gate, phone in his hand. The screen is black.
Students flood around them, laughing and shouting. The men are spaced far enough apart that none of them look connected. That makes it worse.
My skin crawls.
This could be coincidence. I tell myself that more times than I can count as I cross the quad. Maybe a conference is in the building. Maybe I’ve become paranoid overnight.
When I get home that evening, I triple-check the locks. Sleep comes in broken pieces again.
The faceless man is in my doorway. The same height. The same blue eyes. They anchor me to the bed.
When I wake, my throat is dry. Light seeps around the curtains. My phone screen glows with one new notification.
Unknown number.
You should have stayed silent.
Chapter Two - Lukyan
The article sits open on my screen, her name printed beneath mine like a challenge. I read it twice. Then a third time. Smoke curls from the end of my cigarette, the only movement in the room.
