Every instinct screamedwrong choice. Running meant control. Meant I could guarantee her safety.
But the look in her eyes… She wasn't asking permission. She was making a choice.
"You're sure."
"Yes."
FBI vehicles stopped thirty yards away. Agents piling out. Weapons drawn.
Agent Morris dropped from the helicopter before it fully touched down, striding toward us with her weapon holstered but her expression sharp.
"Hands where I can see them!"
My team didn't move. They waited for my signal.
I raised my hands slowly. Valentina did the same.
"Caldwell's in the van," I called. "Wounded but alive."
Morris approached cautiously. "You just engaged in a high-speed pursuit—"
"He kidnapped her from federal custody," I interrupted. "From your safe house. While your agents failed to protect her."
Morris's jaw tightened.
"My mother," Valentina said to Morris. "Sofia DeLuca. Is she…"
"She's at Phoenix Memorial. Getting the best care."
Valentina sagged in relief. "Make sure she has protection."
Morris nodded. "Already arranged. Two agents at her door."
"Then we're done running," Valentina said. "We're cooperating fully. We have evidence against Marco DeLuca and Richard Caldwell that will destroy them both."
Morris studied her. Then me. She was thinking this wasn't by the book, but results mattered. I'd seen that calculation before.
"Mr. Valestri, you're under arrest," Morris said finally. "Ms. DeLuca, you're being detained as a material witness for your own protection.
She gestured to someone, and agents moved in and cuffed my wrists. Another agent guided Valentina toward an SUV—no cuffs, but no freedom either.
"Separate vehicles," Morris ordered.
They led Valentina toward one SUV and me toward another.
I caught her eyes before they put her inside, held her gaze for one precious moment.I love you. I'll come for you. Always
She nodded, mouthing the words back.
Then they closed the door, blocking my view.
CHAPTER 16
Valentina
The armored SUV had been driving for maybe fifteen minutes when Agent Simpson finally spoke.
We'd left the crash site behind—left Alessio behind, loaded into a separate vehicle while I watched helplessly through reinforced glass. A dark partition separated us from the driver—standard federal transport, I assumed. Private. Secure.
