The words hit like a physical blow. Ava goes rigid beside me, and I wrap my arm around her waist to keep her steady.
"Dead how?" I ask, my voice flat.
"Apparent suicide. He was found hanging from a bedsheet around three AM during routine checks." Agent Monroe pulls out a tablet, showing us photos I immediately wish I could unsee. "However, there are inconsistencies that suggest it may not have been self-inflicted."
"You're saying someone killed him and made it look like suicide," Ava says, her voice tight.
"That's our working theory. The autopsy's being rushed, but preliminary findings show bruising patterns inconsistent with hanging. Defensive wounds on his hands. Signs of a struggle." Agent Monroe's expression hardens. "Someone wanted him silenced."
"Who had access to his cell?" Robert asks, already in lawyer mode.
"That's what we're investigating, but the timing's suspicious. Castellano's lawyer filed a motion yesterday indicating his client was prepared to cooperate with prosecutors, to name names in exchange for a reduced sentence." Agent Monroe looks at Ava. "Names of people higher up the chain. People with enough power and resources to order a hit inside a federal facility."
"The Collector," Ava breathes. "He was going to give up the Collector."
"That's our assumption. Which means whoever the Collector is, they're still out there and they're willing to kill to protect their identity." Agent Monroe's gaze sweeps the room. "And that puts everyone involved in this investigation at risk. Including you, Ms. Langley."
"Fuck," I mutter, my mind already racing through security protocols and threat assessments. "You're saying Ava's still a target."
"I'm saying we can't rule it out. Castellano's death suggests a level of organization and resources we didn't account for. Someone with connections inside federal detention, someone who can order executions without leaving a trail." Agent Monroe turns to Vulture. "I'd recommend increased security for everyone connected to this case until we can identify and neutralize the threat."
"Already planned on it," Vulture says grimly. "Ava stays at the compound until this is resolved. No exceptions."
"Wait." Ava steps forward, her spine straight despite the fear I can see in her eyes. "I just moved into my apartment. I've got a life, a career. I can't just hide indefinitely."
"You can and you will." My voice comes out harder than I intend. "Someone just killed a billionaire in federal custody to keep him quiet. You think they'd hesitate to come after you?"
"Ice Pick’s right," Agent Monroe says. "Until we identify the Collector and determine the scope of this threat, you're in danger. We can provide protective custody if you'd prefer."
"She's staying here," I say before Ava can argue. "With us, where I can personally guarantee her safety."
"Ice Pick." Ava's voice is low, meant only for me. "Can we talk? Privately?"
I want to say no, I want to keep her in the room where I can see her and know she's safe. But the look on her face tells me this conversation's happening whether I like it or not.
"Fine. Five minutes." I guide her toward the hallway, aware of every eye tracking our movement. "My room."
Once we're inside with the door closed, she rounds on me. "You can't just make decisions for me, I'm not club property, I'm not your ol' lady, I'm me, and I get a say in what happens to my life."
"I'm trying to keep you alive."
"By locking me in a compound indefinitely? That's not living, Mason. That's being a prisoner." She crosses her arms. "I understand the danger. I'm not stupid. But I also can't put my entire life on hold because some shadowy figure might be after me."
"It's not might, Ava, it's definitely. Someone killed Castellano rather than risk him talking. That same someone knows you're the journalist who exposed the operation." I step closer, needing her to understand. "I can't lose you, Ava. I can't watch you take unnecessary risks because you're too stubborn to be scared."
"I am scared. I’m terrified, actually." Her voice breaks slightly. "But I'm also not going to let fear control my life. I've spent the last year fighting for justice, for the truth. I'm not going to hide now."
"No one's asking you to hide, just to be smart. Stay somewhere safe until the FBI identifies the threat."
"And how long will that take? Weeks? Months? Years?" She shakes her head. "I can't live like that. I can't put my career and my life on hold indefinitely."
"Then what do you suggest? Because I'm fresh out of ideas that don't involve keeping you somewhere I know you're protected."
She's quiet for a long moment, thinking. Then she says, "What if we compromise? I stay at the compound most of the time, but I'm allowed to leave for work with security. You or one of the brothers comes with me when I need to meet sources or conduct interviews. I get to live my life, and you get peace of mind knowing I'm not alone."
It's not perfect. It still leaves too many vulnerabilities, too many opportunities for something to go wrong, but looking at her face, seeing the determination mixed with fear, I know pushing harder will only make her dig in.
"Fine. But you don't go anywhere without telling me first. You don't meet anyone alone, and if something feels wrong, you bail immediately. No arguments."
