December 12th
Chapter 12 — The Price of Truth
The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the throb of music from downstairs. Kateryna pulled her robe tighter around her and crossed the room, trying to quiet her shaking hands. Michael sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed like he always did, playing the role.
They didn’t speak at first.
She moved close and slipped her hand beneath her robe and into her bra from where she retrieved the USB stick. Small. Ordinary. But dangerous.
She pressed it into his palm, her fingers brushing his for a second longer than needed. His expression didn’t change, but she felt the tension in him. Michael pocketed it without looking.
They lay down on the bed together as they always did.
“It’s all on there,” she whispered. “They know it’s missing.”
“You did well. This… this is gold dust.”
She looked at him, searching. “Will it be enough?”
He nodded, almost to himself. “I’ve got whistleblowers. A woman who used to work for one of the MSPs. A former receptionist from the club. They’re all scared, but they’re talking. The story is coming together.”
Kateryna shifted on the bed. “When it breaks, they’ll know it came from inside.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m working on a way to get you and the others out. You’ll need to disappear.”
A flicker of hope rose in her chest, quickly doused by suspicion. “But the police are involved.”
“Not all of them,” said Michael. “I just need to figure out who to trust.”
“And if you can’t get us out?”
He hesitated. “I will.”
She stared at him. “You’re a journalist, Michael. This story could make your name. Are we part of that story, or are we the price?”
He met her eyes. “You’re not the price. You’re the point.”
Heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor signalling the end of the session. Kateryna stood quickly. Michael reached for her hand, just briefly.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Keep the phone near. And be careful.”
After he left, Mace barged in without knocking. His eyes swept the room, narrowed.
“He likes you,” he sneered. “That’s his third visit.”
Kateryna kept her expression blank. “He quiet. Just cuddle.”
“Yeah?” He stepped closer, his breath sour. “He leave you a tip?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Mace grabbed her wrist. “You’re lying.”
He forced her to strip off, and then he searched the room. Watching him, she fought to keep her breathing steady. He wouldn’t find the USB but the phone was still on the premises. And suspicion didn’t need evidence to grow.
Mace turned to her, his lip curled. “You mess me about, I’ll end you.”
Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.
Kateryna sank to the floor. She was trembling now.
Michael had the USB. The story was coming.
But so was the storm.
