Chapter 4 – Into the Fire

(Hannah’s POV)

The next morning, I was at Blackstone Publishing by 7:30 a.m. sharp—caffeinated, dressed in my most professional outfit, and ready to prove I could handle this assignment.

I wish I could say my nerves weren’t eating me alive, but that would be a huge lie. They were.

This wasn’t just some small rewrite assignment. This was my first real chance to be taken seriously.

And if I messed up?

Well, let’s just say I wasn’t going to give Nathaniel Rhodes the satisfaction of thinking I couldn’t handle it.

I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor, my fingers tightening around the folder Nathaniel had given me.

The details inside were thin—a nightclub downtown had burned down overnight, the fire department had ruled it as suspicious, and the police were holding a press conference at 8 a.m. to address it.

There were whispers that the owner of the club had powerful connections, which meant this wasn’t just about a fire—it was about who wanted it buried. Who knows.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped out, expecting to be the first one in the office.

I was wrong.

Nathaniel was already there, standing by his desk, flipping through a stack of notes like he had never left the office in the first place.

How was that even possible? Did he live here?

He didn’t even look up when he spoke. “You’re early.”

“Uhm yes sir, you too” I said back.

That finally got his attention. He glanced at me, his eyes scanning my outfit—a navy blazer, white blouse, and black slacks—before nodding slightly.

“Good,” he said. “At least you look like a reporter.”

I frowned. “Excuse me sir ?”

He ignored me. Of course, he did.

Instead, he grabbed his phone and slid it into his pocket. “Come on, we’re taking my car.”

I blinked. Wait, what?

“I thought I was covering the press conference alone.”

“You are.” He walked past me, not bothering to slow down. “But I’m coming to make sure you don’t screw it up.”

I ground my teeth together.

---

Nathaniel’s car was exactly what I expected—sleek, black, and way too expensive for a college intern.

I buckled my seatbelt, glancing at him as he pulled out of the parking lot. “You really don’t trust me to do this on my own, sir?”

He didn’t look away from the road. “Trust is earned.”

I folded my arms, turning to the window. “Right. Because you gave the other interns a chance to earn it?”

“They don’t want it,” he said simply. “They just want a line on their resume.”

I frowned, shifting in my seat.

That wasn’t me.

I didn’t just want a line on my resume—I wanted to be great at this.

Nathaniel must have sensed my mood shift because he added, “Look, if you do this right, I’ll back off.”

I turned to him sharply. “You promise?”

His lips quirked slightly. “I don’t make promises. But I won’t waste my time on someone who can’t keep up.”

I exhaled slowly. Fine. I’ll take that.

The rest of the drive was silent, aside from the hum of the engine.

But I could feel it—the weight of this assignment, the unspoken challenge between us.

And I had every intention of winning.

---

The police station was already packed when we arrived. Journalists from every major news outlet were there, their cameras set up, their notepads ready.

Nathaniel led the way inside, and even though no one spoke to him, I could feel the way people noticed him.

Like he belonged here.

Like he’d done this a thousand times before.

I squared my shoulders, reminding myself I belonged here, too.

The press conference started right on time. The police chief stepped up to the podium, clearing his throat before addressing the crowd.

“The fire at Neon Lights Nightclub is being investigated as arson,” he announced. “The cause is still undetermined, but we have reason to believe the fire was deliberately set.”

Murmurs spread through the room.

I scribbled notes furiously, my mind racing with questions.

Who would want to burn down a nightclub? And why?

One reporter raised a hand. “Chief Carter, is it true the club’s owner has ties to Senator Dawson?”

The room went dead silent.

The police chief’s jaw tightened. “We’re looking into all possible connections.”

A non-answer.

I glanced at Nathaniel, but his face was completely unreadable.

What was he thinking?

As soon as the conference ended, journalists rushed forward, trying to get more details. I turned to Nathaniel, but he was already walking away.

“Where are you going?” I called after him.

“Keep up, intern.”, he said over his shoulder.

I exhaled sharply and hurried after him.

Because something told me this fire was just the beginning.