My phone was still in my pocket. They hadn't taken it yet. I could feel it buzzing—probably Sandro or one of the others. But with my hands cuffed behind me, I couldn't reach it.
The drive took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of silence except for the agents' radio chatter. Twenty minutes of trying not to think about where Valentino was, what he was going through, if he was okay.
Finally we arrived at the federal courthouse. More agents waiting. They pulled me out of the car and led me inside through a side entrance—avoiding the main doors where press was likely waiting.
Processing was mechanical and dehumanizing. Fingerprints. Photos. Personal effects confiscated. They finally removed the handcuffs but only to process me. Then back on for transport to holding.
"Emilio Rossi is my attorney," I said to every person who spoke to me. "I'm invoking my right to counsel. I won't answer questions without him present."
"Noted." Each one wrote it down.
They put me in a holding cell with three other people. Small, concrete, a bench along one wall. No windows. Fluorescent lights humming overhead.
I sat on the bench and waited.
An hour passed. Maybe two. Hard to tell time with no clock and no phone. The other people in the cell ignored me. I sat and thought about Valentino. About where he was. If they were treating him okay. If he was scared.
Finally a guard came. "Romano. Your lawyer's here."
Relief flooded through me. I stood and they led me to a small interview room. Emilio was already there, looking professional in his suit, his face calm but his eyes sharp with concern.
"Luca." He gestured to the chair. "Sit. We don't have much time before arraignment."
The guard removed my handcuffs and left. I sat across from Emilio and finally let myself breathe.
"How are you?" he asked.
"I'm okay. Where's Valentino? Is he okay?"
"He's being processed at the FBI field office. My colleague Jessica Torres is with him. She's excellent—she'll make sure he's protected." Emilio opened his briefcase. "They're arraigning you both this afternoon. Same judge, same hearing. Bail will be set high but we're prepared for that."
"What are the charges?"
He pulled out papers. "RICO charges for you specifically. Conspiracy for both of you. Obstruction of justice for both of you. They're alleging you ran a criminal organization and that Valentino knowingly protected that organization through his journalism."
"Can they prove it?"
"They think they can. They have surveillance, witness statements, the timeline of Valentino's articles. It looks bad on paper." He met my eyes. "But we can fight it. The surveillance doesn't prove coercion continued. The articles were factually accurate. And Valentino's recent independent work proves he maintained journalistic integrity."
"What's the worst case?"
"If convicted on all charges? You're looking at ten to fifteen years. Valentino's looking at five to seven." He said it calmly, clinically. "But that's worst case. We're going to fight every charge."
Ten to fifteen years. The number hit me like a physical blow. Valentino facing five to seven.
"What about best case?" My voice was rougher than I'd intended.
"Best case? Charges dropped before trial. More realistic best case? Acquittal on major charges, probation on lesser ones." He leaned forward. "Luca, I need you to understand—this is going to be a long fight. Months of preparation. Months of trial. Your life is going to be consumed by this."
"I understand."
"And Valentino's life will be too. The media coverage will be brutal. Your relationship will be scrutinized. Every choice you've both made will be questioned." He paused. "Are you both prepared for that?"
"We don't have a choice."
"You do have a choice. Valentino could take a deal. Testify against you in exchange for immunity. I'm required to tell you that option exists."
"He won't." I said it with absolute certainty. "He already refused that."
