Chapter 31: How to Take a Journalist’s Daughter on a High-Risk Mission and Call It an Investigation
The weight of his answer made the room feel smaller.
"This story touches powerful names. People with too many tentacles. Malderra isn't just a rival city, Dante. Malderra is the center. They control the national narrative. They decide what counts as news and what's labeled 'rural terrorism.'"
"You're saying you're just gonna bow your head?"
"I'm saying if I publish this based on flimsy evidence, with no credible witnesses, no verified records... the paper shuts down in two days. I get accused of libel, inciting revolt — maybe even of orchestrating an armed political attack for a competing faction."
He ran a hand over his face, worn-out.
I blinked slowly. The fire inside me was still there, still fighting, but something in his voice carried the weight of too many buried stories.
"So what do you suggest? That I just stash this away? Pretend nothing happened?"
Marlow kept spinning one of the pages between his fingers, not like he was reading it — like he was weighing it. As if that scrap of story was about to become either a real bomb or a paper trap.
"Listen, Dante... you did good," he finally said. "Better than I expected. But this — it's not publishable yet."
"Why not? We've been through this. You're scared?"
"It's not fear. It's strategy."