Hells Messenger

Fiona woke up tangled in silk sheets that weren’t hers, the lingering scent of coffee and cologne wrapping around her like a memory she hadn't decided how to feel about yet.

The gentle hum of an automated voice broke the silence.

“Foggy. Foggy. Foggy.”

Matt groaned, his bare chest rising and falling beneath her cheek as he reached over, fumbling for his phone.

“Hello?” His voice was rough, half-asleep, half-annoyed.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Foggy chirped on the other end.

Fiona smirked against Matt’s skin, shifting slightly, her body molding against his in a way that made Matt sigh—though whether it was in frustration or pleasure, she wasn’t sure.

“What time is it?” Matt asked, his tone deeply unenthusiastic.

“Half past, get the hell up. Let’s go. We gotta meet the real estate agent in forty-five,” Foggy said.

Fiona stretched, letting out an involuntary moan as she moved. Matt tensed under her, and then—

“What was that? Was that a moan?” Foggy demanded. “Do you have somebody in bed with you?”

Matt tilted his head down, clearly not planning to answer that question honestly.

“The paralegal?” Foggy guessed. “Is it the paralegal over at—never mind. I don’t wanna hear about it. No, actually, I do wanna hear about it. What was she like?”

Fiona raised a brow at Matt. He smiled, amusement flickering over his lips.

“Fun,” he said simply.

If Foggy noticed anything off in Matt’s tone, he didn’t comment on it. “I gotta get the blind thing going. It’s so unfair.” A beat. “Oh, hey! Real estate agent? Not your type. Very homely. Might be genetic. No need to be charming. Also, she kinda told me she thinks blind people are God’s mistake.”

Matt huffed a laugh. “That’s a horrible thing to say, Foggy.”

“I know! In this day and age?” Foggy scoffed. “Alright, shake it, I gotta go bribe a cop.”

Matt sighed. “Ah, Foggy.”

“Kidding, NSA, if you’re listening. But seriously, yeah, I gotta go bribe a cop,” Foggy said, before hanging up.

Silence settled over them, warm and lazy.

Fiona lifted her head, her cheek resting on Matt’s shoulder as she gave him a look of pure amusement. “Did you just tell my brother I was fun in bed?”

Matt smirked, reaching for her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear before letting his fingers trail down to her jaw. “I couldn’t tell him the truth.”

Fiona smirked back. “Oh? And what’s the truth?”

His lips brushed against hers, slow and lingering. “That you were sweet,” he murmured between kisses. “Really, really sweet.”

She laughed softly, threading her fingers through his hair as she pulled him in deeper. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he mumbled against her lips. “I should really get going.”

Fiona hummed, dragging her nails lightly down the back of his neck. “In a hurry to meet what is probably a very pretty real estate agent?”

Matt smirked. “Now how would I know if she’s pretty?”

Fiona arched a brow. “How do you know I’m pretty?”

His lips quirked as he kissed along her jaw. “Because I can hear it in your voice.” Another kiss, trailing down her neck. “I can feel it.”

She smiled, tugging him back up for a slow, savoring kiss. “Go,” she whispered against his lips. “Before I force you to stay.”

Matt chuckled, brushing his thumb over her cheek before pressing one last lingering kiss to her lips. “You’re making it very tempting.”

Fiona had entered Matt’s life like sunlight through a stained-glass window—warm, radiant, coloring everything in hues of something softer. Something golden.

He hadn’t expected her that day in Foggy’s dorm room, hadn’t expected the burst of energy sweeping in with the scent of sweet perfume and something undeniably, overwhelmingly alive.

She had laughed the second she saw them—bright, unguarded, the kind of sound that made people turn their heads without knowing why. Matt had been so aware of her. He hadn’t needed sight to know she was the kind of person who filled a room, who made the air feel warmer just by existing in it.

And he had been so aware of her warmth.

It had been easy, for a long time, to convince himself it was nothing. That the way he always gravitated toward her voice, the way he turned his head before she even spoke, the way he lingered in her touch a second too long—meant nothing.

It wasn’t real. It was temptation.

Not until that night.

They had been at Josie’s. She had been soft with alcohol, warm with laughter, golden in a way he couldn’t ignore. She had smiled at him, her hand brushing his, and he had felt it like a brand.

When she asked him to walk her home, he said yes.

And when they reached her apartment, when she turned to him with those wide, kind eyes, looking at him like he was something better than what he was, he hadn’t stood a chance.

He had kissed her.

And she had kissed him back.

That kiss had led to dinner.
Dinner had led to more stolen nights.
More of her warmth against his skin.
More of him pressing his hands into her body like she was the only holy thing left in the world.

Until, eventually, she was in his bed.

And now, there was no pretending.
No telling himself it was nothing.
No telling himself he wasn’t tempted.

Because he had already fallen.

Fiona had always cared about Matt. Maybe more than she should have, maybe more than she had ever admitted to herself. He was just so easy to care about in ways he didn’t even see, in ways that had nothing to do with what he could do or how he fought or what burdens he carried. It was the way he listened, the way he always knew exactly how to make her laugh, the way he never once treated her like she was fragile despite the fact that Foggy always did.

Her brother worried about her enough as it was.

Foggy had spent his entire life trying to keep her safe—hovering when she got sick, checking in too often, always telling her she needed to be more careful. She knew it was just who he was, that he had always been the protective older brother who worried about things before they even had the chance to go wrong. But this? If he knew she was with Matt—his best friend, his law partner, his practically-brother—it would be too much.

Foggy already stressed himself out over her job, convinced that one day she was going to sneak into the wrong place, expose the wrong people, and get herself killed.

And, honestly? She couldn't even argue with him.

Fiona had never been the kind of person who could sit still in the face of injustice. She had always wanted to help people, always needed to do something about the things no one else wanted to touch. She had tried the traditional routes—journalism, photography, working for an actual paper—but none of it had felt right.

So she made her own path.

She created Kitchen Compromised, an exposé blog that had started as a small passion project and quickly became something bigger than she ever imagined.

She posted everything she uncovered—city corruption, dirty cops, politicians pocketing money meant for struggling neighborhoods—all backed up with evidence that no one could ignore. She had an audience now, people who trusted her, who looked to her for truth in a city full of half-truths and silences.

And to get that truth, she did what she had to do.

She snuck into places she shouldn’t be, took photos no one else could get, chased stories that could get her killed.She had learned how to pick locks just well enough to get into a filing cabinet, had climbed fences and slipped through windows, had bluffed her way into buildings she had no right to be in. She told herself it was just part of the job, that she wasn’t actually doing anything illegal—just bending the rules in the name of justice.

Foggy hated it.

Matt? He worried.

He told her to be careful, he reminded her that the people she was exposing weren’t the kind to let things go, but he never tried to stop her. He knew better than anyone what it was like to feel compelled to do something, even when it was dangerous, even when you should walk away.

Maybe that was why she had let herself fall into this with him.

Because he understood her in ways other people never could. Because he saw the danger in what she did, but he also saw the good in it, the necessity of it.

Because he worried about her, but he still let her be exactly who she was.

• • • • • • •

The office was still half in shambles, boxes stacked in corners, papers scattered across desks, when a high-pitched squeal pierced through the street noise outside.

“Oh my god! You guys got a little sign!”

Matt and Foggy looked at each other and grinned, already knowing who it was before the front door swung open.

Fiona stumbled in, barely managing to keep hold of the massive plant she was carrying. The thing was almost bigger than she was, its long, leafy stems swaying precariously as she shifted it in her arms.

Foggy turned to Matt, deadpan. “A giant floating ficus just walked in.”

“It is not a ficus,” Fiona huffed, setting the plant down with a dramatic thud. “It’s Dracaena sanderiana. Lucky Bamboo.The woman at the store said it brings good luck.”

Finally freed from her burden, she looked around for the first time, her eyes going wide with excitement as she took in the space.

“Oh my god, Foggy, look at this place!”

“Yeah, don’t look too close. Pretty sure we have exposed wires,” Foggy muttered.

“Stop it!” she scolded, slapping his arm. “I mean it. You have your own office, Foggy. That’s a big deal. I’m so proud of you.”

Foggy softened, his teasing dropping away as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. He hugged her back, his voice quiet with gratitude. “Thank you.”

When Fiona pulled away, she turned to Matt, all warmth and brightness, her smile as familiar as the sun on his face. She reached out, slipping her hand into his, squeezing gently.

“I’m proud of you too, Matty.”

The words were so soft, so simple, but they made something tighten in his chest, something he couldn’t name.

Matt smiled, his grip lingering just a second longer than it should have. “Thanks, Fi.”

Before she could say anything else, Foggy’s phone rang in his pocket, pulling him away from the moment as he stepped outside to take the call.

Matt exhaled and gestured for Fiona to follow him into his office.

She gasped dramatically the second she walked in, beelining for the desk like a kid in a candy store.

“You even have one of those fancy office chairs?” she said, eyes shining with delight as she plopped down into it.

The second she leaned back, she let out a deep, content sigh.

“Oh my god, I could sleep in this thing.”

Matt chuckled, stepping around the desk, leaning casually against it as he turned toward her. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Fiona said, stretching out in the chair before flashing him a bright smile. “I finally finished editing my latest story.”

He tilted his head slightly, already intrigued. “What’s this one about?”

“Developers buying up property in neighborhoods that were destroyed when the sky opened up and the world nearly ended,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “Now, the people who used to live there can’t afford to move back.”

Matt exhaled through his nose, already familiar with how these stories played out. “Hmm. I hope you didn’t have to break into anywhere for this one.”

She grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Not this time. But if I did… I know two lawyers who’d defend me if I got caught.”

Matt smirked, tilting his head in amusement. “And what makes you think I’d want to defend you?”

Before she could quip back, Foggy suddenly burst into the room, waving his phone around. “Hey, Matt! Potential client down at the precinct.”

“Oh my god—your first client!” Fiona squealed, practically vibrating with excitement before stopping short at the look Foggy shot her. She cleared her throat, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry,” she laughed. “I should get home anyway.”

She pushed herself up from Matt’s chair, brushing a hand over his arm as she passed him, just for a second, just enough to linger. “Bye.”

Matt barely got the word out, his voice softer than he meant for it to be. “Bye.”

She turned to Foggy next, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug.

“Get home safe,” he murmured, his protective instincts kicking in, as always.

“I will,” she promised, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping out the door. 

• • • • • • •

It was late when Fiona heard the knock at her apartment door. She had already been in bed, curled up beneath her blankets, dressed in just a tank top and shorts. Groggy, she rubbed at her eyes as she climbed out of bed, reaching for the robe hanging on the back of her door. She slipped it on, tightening the belt around her waist just as another knock sounded.

"I'm coming!" she called out, padding toward the door.

She pulled it open and paused, startled at the sight in front of her.

Matt stood there, dressed in his usual suit, looking as composed as ever despite the hour. Beside him was a strawberry-blonde woman she had never met, her expression tense, wary, and filled with something that looked dangerously close to fear.

"Matty?" Fiona asked, eyes flickering between them.

"Hi," Matt said, his voice steady, apologetic. "I’m sorry to come by so late, but it’s important. This is Karen Page, our client. Karen, this is Fiona—Foggy’s sister."

Fiona barely had time to process that before the woman beside Matt gasped quietly, eyes widening in recognition.

"Fiona Nelson? Like Kitchen Compromised Fiona Nelson?"

Fiona blinked at her, surprised. "Um, yeah, that’s me. Hi. It’s nice to meet you." She stepped back, pulling the door open wider. "Come in."

Matt and Karen stepped inside as Fiona closed the door behind them.

"You can sit anywhere you want," she said, gesturing to the couch. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Uh, no. I’m okay," Karen said, still a little breathless.

"No, thank you," Matt added as they both settled on the couch.

Fiona perched on the arm of the chair across from them, studying them both as Matt turned toward her.

"We were hoping you’d publish a story for us," he said.

She tilted her head, intrigued. "What’s the story?"

Karen exhaled shakily, folding her hands together in her lap before she began explaining—how she had been a secretary at Union Allied Construction, how she had come across a pension file that exposed embezzlement, how she had spoken to a coworker, Daniel Fisher, about it... and then how she had been framed for his murder.

Fiona’s stomach twisted at the weight of it.

"The file?" she asked, already knowing what the answer had to be. "Do you still have it?"

Karen nodded quickly, reaching into her jacket pocket. "Uh, yeah. Yeah," she said, pulling out a flash drive and holding it out.

Fiona took it carefully, turning it over between her fingers, her mind already running through the best way to piece the story together.

"So," Matt said, watching her, "will you write it?"

Fiona let out a breathless laugh. "Well, I mean, you just handed me the hardest piece of evidence possible," she said, pushing off the chair and heading toward her desk. "I’ll grab my laptop. Karen, I can keep you anonymous, but I’d want to ask you some more questions."

"No," Karen said quickly, shaking her head. "Don’t keep me anonymous. I want them to know."

Fiona studied her, her brows pulling together at the determination in Karen’s face. There was fear there, too, beneath the surface, but more than that—there was resolve.

"Are you okay?" Fiona asked, voice gentler now. "You look kind of shaken up."

Karen hesitated before exhaling deeply. "Yeah," she admitted. "I just… there was someone waiting for me in my apartment today. Looking for that file."

Fiona froze.

"Oh my god," she said, setting the flash drive down on her desk and moving back toward her. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Karen nodded, still rattled but grounding herself. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. This, um… this guy in a black mask saved me."

Fiona stilled. "Black mask?"

"Yeah," Karen said, glancing between them. "He was wearing all black. Why? Have you seen him?"

Instead of answering, Fiona turned, walking toward a stack of folders on her desk. Matt knew exactly what was in them before she even opened them.

He had known for a while now.

Because he had felt it—felt her there when he was out in the city, heard the faint click of a camera shutter in the distance. He had known she was following him, documenting him, and he had hated it.

Hated that she was putting herself in places she shouldn’t be, hated that she was making herself a target, hated that he couldn’t say anything without revealing too much.

Fiona walked back over, flipping open the folder in her hands.

Karen leaned forward, her breath catching as she looked down at the dozens of photographs spread out before her.

"I’ve taken dozens of them," Fiona admitted, scanning over the images. "I’ve seen him all over the city, stopping small robberies. I even saw him a few days ago by the docks—he saved these women from being trafficked. I just… have no idea who he is. I could never get close enough to ask."

"Oh my god," Karen whispered, picking up one of the images, tracing her fingers over the blurred figure of the man in black.

Matt leaned back slightly, forcing himself to mask his reaction, to keep his expression neutral.

"Following this guy around seems dangerous," he said, his voice light, casual.

Fiona rolled her eyes. "I know how to look after myself, Matty."

He pressed his lips together but didn’t argue.

Karen, still holding one of the photos, glanced back up. "Are you going to publish this?"

Fiona hesitated. "I wasn’t sure what to say," she admitted, fingers tapping idly against the side of the folder. "I mean, I don’t know who he is. He seems like a good guy, though."

"You have to," Karen said, more firmly this time. "People should know he’s out there."

Fiona looked down at the photos again, her expression unreadable for a long moment.

Finally, she nodded.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Maybe they should."

She set the folder aside, rolling her shoulders back before reaching for her laptop.

"But first," she said, slipping the flash drive into the port, her focus shifting. "I should get started on the Union Allied article."

• • • • • • •

Fiona woke up to her phone vibrating endlessly on the nightstand beside her. She groaned, burying her face into the pillow, but it didn’t stop. The notification sounds kept piling up, buzzing and pinging, a relentless demand for attention.

Still half-asleep, she reached for it, blinking blearily at the screen.

Over 200 missed notifications.

Her eyes widened as she scrolled through them, her heart kicking up as she realized what was happening.

Her Kitchen Compromised post—the Union Allied exposé—had blown up.

News outlets had picked it up. The Times. The Post. The Bulletin. Journalists she’d never spoken to before were flooding her inbox, requesting interviews, asking for statements. People were sharing her article like wildfire. Even her mother had called, ranting about how she couldn’t believe her daughter was on the news. 

And then, just as she started to process it all, her phone rang.

Foggy.

She sighed, already bracing herself, but still, she plastered on her best cheerful voice as she answered.

“Hi, Foggy!”

"Don’t ‘Hi, Foggy’ me!" he snapped. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it was publishing that article?"

Fiona sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I know, but—”

"Karen was attacked just for having that file, Fiona. What if they come after you for publishing it?"

“They won’t.” Her voice was firm, confident. “And Foggy, I can take care of myself.”

"That’s not the point!" he groaned. "You shouldn’t have to."

Fiona hesitated for a second before softening her tone. "Look, I know you're worried. But this has been huge for my career. The New York Times, The Post, and The Bulletin all want to interview me!"

Foggy went quiet for a beat. Then, much softer, he said, "Wow. Really?"

A smile crept onto Fiona’s lips. "Yeah. That’s… actually pretty amazing, right?"

Foggy exhaled, still frustrated but unable to hold back his undeniable pride. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“I know what I’m doing, Foggy,” she assured him. “I’m being careful. Is Matt there?"

"Yeah, hold on," Foggy said, handing the phone over.

There was a brief silence before she heard Matt's voice, warm and familiar through the receiver. "Hi, angel."

Fiona smiled. It was the nickname he had given her, the one he only used when it was just the two of them, a quiet reassurance that no one else was listening.

"Hi, Matty," she said softly.

"I could hear them talking about your article on the news," he said. "And I just read it. It's amazing."

"Well, I have you and Karen to thank for bringing me the story," she said.

"I brought it to you because I knew you were the only one who could do it justice."

"Then I'm saying thank you for believing in me."

"You should stop by the office later," Matt said. "Karen is bringing food. She said she wants to thank us."

Fiona smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "Okay. I'll be there."

"I'll see you later."

"See you."