We lay there in the darkness, both processing everything that had happened. The arrest. The processing. The arraignment. The bail. The ankle monitors. The media. The humiliation.
And underneath it all—the terror of what came next.
But also: each other. The support of found family. The determination to fight.
"Luca?" Valentino's voice was quiet.
"Yeah?"
"No matter what happens at trial—no matter what the verdict is—I don't regret choosing you. I want you to know that."
My chest tightened. "I don't regret you either. Best thing that ever happened to me, even if the beginning was fucked up."
"Especially because the beginning was fucked up. We built something real from that darkness."
"We did." I kissed the back of his head. "And we're going to keep building it. Through trial, through whatever verdict comes, through whatever consequences we face. We're building this together."
"Together," he agreed.
Eventually, exhaustion won and we both fell asleep tangled together. Both wearing ankle monitors. Both facing federal charges. Both terrified of what tomorrow would bring.
CHAPTER 11: VALENTINO
I WOKE TOmy phone buzzing nonstop on the nightstand.
For a moment I didn't remember. Then it all came crashing back—the arrest, the handcuffs, the arraignment, the ankle monitor heavy around my leg.
I was under federal indictment.
Luca stirred beside me. "What time is it?"
"Seven." I grabbed my phone and immediately wished I hadn't. Fifty-three missed calls. Over a hundred texts. My email inbox was exploding.
"Media?" Luca asked.
"Everyone." I scrolled through the notifications. Former colleagues, journalism school friends, editors I'd worked with, reporters wanting statements. "It's everywhere."
He sat up and checked his own phone. Made a face. "Same. We're the top story."
I opened a news site and there it was:"Journalist Arrested in Mob Conspiracy Case - Russo Charged Alongside Alleged Crime Boss Romano."
The photo was from yesterday—us in handcuffs being led out of the building. I looked terrified. Luca looked defiant.
"They're destroying me," I said quietly. "My career is over."
"We don't know that yet."
"Look at this." I showed him the article. It detailed the charges, my relationship with Luca, the timeline of my articles. Made it sound like I'd been a mob puppet from the beginning. Like everything I'd written was propaganda.
My phone rang. My editor.
"I have to take this." I answered. "David, I—"
"Valentino." His voice was cold. Professional. "I'm calling to inform you that we're suspending publication of your work pending the outcome of your case."
My stomach dropped. "David—"
"You understand this is necessary. The paper can't be associated with someone under federal indictment for conspiracy. It compromises our credibility."
