“Nice to meet you,” she said.
Matias’s attention settled on her in a way that made Noah’s stomach tighten.
“The pleasure is mine,” Matias said in a soft, gentle tone.
And it sat wrong in Noah’s ears in a way he couldn’t quite shake.
He hadn’t expected this to be the moment that unsettled him.
“I’d best head to the control room,” she said. “The show will be starting soon, and I need to do a few things.”
“I’ll see you after the show.”
“Always.”
Noah kept his gaze on her until she was out the door. Then he turned back to the table.
“Let’s get you set,” the tech said as he moved in to mic Matias.
Noah took his seat, pulling out the chair and lowering himself into it, grounding himself in the physicality of it—the scrape of the legs, the solid weight beneath him—before looking up. “This is how it’s going to work,” he said. “We start with some baseline questions. Nothing too difficult, though it will be personal. And I’ll give you a little warning before we cut to commercial, when we won’t be discussing anything. That’s for a sip of water, an adjustment of our mics, camera angles, that kind of thing.”
Matias just sat there and stared at him, and Noah didn’t know if it was amusement that flickered in his eyes or awe.
“I assumed we would have more time beforehand,” Matias said. “A chance to discuss the questions. I feel so unprepared. I don’t know what you’ll be tossing at me.”
Noah almost found that funny.
“I also thought I’d be meeting more of your team and maybe your researchers.”
There it was. Researchers. How did he know that word? Okay, it wasn’t an uncommon term. But to use it when Claire was one, and Claire had been one of his frequent visitors?
“My show doesn’t work that way.” Noah adjusted his suit coat and did his best to get comfortable in an impossibly uncomfortable chair. “It’s a discussion. A conversation. Not a staged dance.”
They sat across from each other, separated by a distance that felt smaller than it should have. The weight of years crammed into a space that was supposed to be neutral and controlled—but felt more like that courtroom all those years ago.
The crew cleared out until only the essentials remained—camera, sound, and two guards positioned just outside the frame—leaving behind a deafening stillness that wasn’t empty so much as it was void.
“Rolling in ten seconds.” The cameraman held up his hand.
Noah placed his hands on his thighs, steady, even as his pulse picked up.
This was it. No shifting it. No walking it back. This was the moment Noah had hoped would never come. Now that it had, he couldn’t wait to get it over with.
The countdown ticked through the room, the camera operator lifting his fingers for the final seconds, and Noah let everything else fall away until there was nothing left but the man sitting across from him and the conversation he’d chosen to have.
“I’m Noah Chase, and this is Unfiltered.” Somewhere in his brain, he knew how many times he’d said that. Five years, every Thursday night, minus a few weeks off here and there. But this was the only time it truly mattered because this was the first time Noah would actually be unfiltered.
“Tonight, we’re coming to you from inside a federal correctional facility for a conversation that’s been years in themaking. A conversation that not only this audience has wanted, but truthfully, both my guest and I have wanted, too.” Those last few words were the hint. The draw. When his viewers went back to rewatch, they would see how Noah had set the stage, just like he always did.
“Matias Salazar. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”
Matias smiled. “Thrilled to be here. I’ve been a fan of your show for quite some time. The way you get people to say things they’d rather keep buried… It’s impressive.”
“You know, it’s not easy to do that,” Noah said, knowing his father thought he was leading him down a dark and dangerous path, but Noah was skipping out in front of it. “It’s a skill I’ve honed my entire life, but one I was forced to develop as a teenager.” He leaned forward. “But you didn’t bring up my show, or that skill, because you’re fascinated by it. You did it because you know something about me, and you were planning on revealing it tonight.”
Matias’s smile faded, and he blew a puff of air out of his nose. He used to do that when Noah was a kid, and Matias was frustrated about something, but had to bite his tongue.
Matias shifted in his chair, his head angling in a way Noah knew too well. It was a warning.