My mind raced, confusion and disbelief crashing through me in waves. The world seemed to narrow; every sound muted except for the officer’s words echoing in my head. I struggled to comprehend what was happening, my heart pounding as adrenaline surged through my veins. This had to be a mistake—some horrible misunderstanding. I had done nothing wrong. Yet as the officer grabbed my arm, and the cold metal cuffs snapped around my wrists, the reality of the situation settled over me, heavier than the Chicago winter air.
Suddenly, a commanding voice cut through the tension.
“Let her go.”
Those words were delivered with such authority that the officer immediately froze, his actions halted mid-motion. As I turned to see who had spoken, I recognized Massimo Vitale standing just a few feet away. His piercing sapphire eyes were fixed on the officer, radiating determination and a barely concealed fury. The officer, apparently as startled as I was, remained rooted to the spot.
Massimo’s tone left no room for argument as he spoke again. “I won’t repeat myself.”
The officer hesitated, his grip tightening on my upper arm as he attempted to assert control. “This doesn’t concern you, Vitale,” he said, voice strained but defiant.
Massimo’s response was unwavering. “You are touching myfidanzata.”
For a moment, I was speechless.
His what?
The word echoed in my mind; confusion mixing with the adrenaline already coursing through me. The situation had shifted dramatically, and I was suddenly at the center of a tense standoff between the officer and Massimo.
My breath caught, the word lingering in the frosty air between us. I stared at Massimo, the implications spinning wildly in my mind. The officer’s eyes darted back and forth, uncertainty flickering on his face as he weighed the power behind Massimo’s declaration. The world seemed to pause, every detail around me sharpened by the gravity of the moment.
Is he for real?
Did he mean it, or was it just a ploy to protect me?
For a heartbeat, silence reigned as the officer’s eyes flickered with indecision. The grip on my arm loosened ever so slightly, and I caught my breath, sensing the balance of power shifting. Massimo took a step forward, his presence unmistakablycommanding; even the bitter wind seemed to hush in deference. The officer finally released me, the handcuffs clattering onto the icy sidewalk. Relief flooded through me, mingled with surprise as I realized Massimo’s declaration had freed me, but at what cost?
In the aftermath of the Children’s Ball a week prior, I had made a conscious effort to push all thoughts of Massimo and his family out of my mind. I held on to the hope—and even silently prayed—that I would never cross paths with them again. There seemed little reason for our worlds to collide; after all, our lives could not have been more different. I was just a college student, leading a simple existence and dedicating myself to a future devoted to saving lives. In stark contrast, the Vitale family moved through the shadows, their reputation as dangerous mobsters preceding them—men and women who lived perilously, where violence and the threat of death were constant companions. While I aspired to heal and protect, they existed in a world where taking lives was just another part of survival.
The tension reached a boiling point as one of the officers fixed me with a cold stare. “We got a tip that your bitch was running drugs on campus. We have a warrant for the search,” he announced, his words harsh and unyielding.
Shock rippled through me. “I would never!” I protested, my voice trembling with indignation. Before I could fully process the accusation, Massimo appeared at my side. He stepped in with unwavering authority, encircled my waist, and pulled me firmly back toward him. I felt the warmth of his body, a stark contrast to the icy atmosphere, but forced myself to ignore the way it seeped into my bones.
Massimo fixed the officer with a steely gaze. “Does that warrant give you the right to manhandle her?” he demanded, his tone both protective and confrontational.
The officer bristled, attempting to justify his actions. “She charged at me. I was only protecting myself and my partner while we searched her vehicle.”
Fury welled up inside me at the blatant falsehood. “You’re lying!” I snapped, unable to contain my outrage at the injustice of the situation.
The officer’s lip curled with disdain as he spat out his words. “Like I’d believe anything from biker trash.” His sneer was vicious, each syllable dripping with contempt. “You should have stayed in the backwoods where you belong.”
Massimo’s response was immediate—a low, dangerous growl as he instinctively moved to close the distance between himself and the officer. Before the situation could escalate, I reacted quickly, pressing my hand firmly against Massimo’s chest to hold him back, silently pleading for restraint.
Turning my attention to the officer, I met his hostile gaze without flinching. “I want to speak to your supervisor,” I demanded, my voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside me.
A slow, malicious smile spread across the officer’s face as he replied, “He’s busy searching your apartment.” He paused, letting the revelation hang in the air, before adding with a smug smirk, “I wonder what he will find there.”
“Found it!” an officer shouted, holding up a tightly wrapped brown cube. “Looks to be at least a pound of cocaine.”
The officer smiled evilly. “Savannah Scott, you are under arrest for possession of a narcotic with the intent to distribute.”
This wasn’t happening.
I refused to believe it.
It had to be a mistake, but when I heard the metal door slam shut behind me, I knew I wasn’t dreaming. After being placed in the back of a police vehicle, I was taken to the station where I was fingerprinted, photographed and strip-searched beforebeing thrown into a holding cell without a phone call. Even though I knew it would be a while before I got to make that call, I found a seat and tried to understand how this happened.
The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, casting harsh shadows on the cracked tile floor. I hugged my arms around myself, replaying every moment of the past hour in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all. Each second in that cell felt heavier than the last, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. How in the hell was I going to explain this to my family, to Jackson?
