Page 56 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

Luca

They brought me back to my cell. The door slammed, and the echo chased itself around the room before dying. The place was a box—four walls, a metal bed with a mattress so thin it might as well have been a towel, and a window too small to make any difference.

I stood there for a beat, listening to the quiet.

Same as always. It was a routine now. The walk down the hall. The cuffs. The questions. The door slamming shut. Over and over again, like clockwork—except there was no clock. No sense of time.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, my muscles stiff from the tension that had knotted every part of my body.

The room had this way of closing in, cold and sterile, like it was designed to chip away at your sanity piece by piece. Every wall looked the same—clean, utterly blank.

Leaning back, I stared at the ceiling. There were cracks that stood out in a sea of dull gray.

Each one twisted out in its own direction, like veins or branches—or maybe escape routes that all led to the same dead end.

I followed one with my eyes, wondering how long it had taken to show up. Months? Years? Maybe longer.

Maybe that’s the kicker—I’ll be around long enough to find out.

Hell, I wasn’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon.

Telling Isabelle to walk away if it didn’t work out?

Stupid as hell. Selfish too. There was no “if,” and I knew it.

I’d known it wouldn’t work out from the start, yet I didn’t just say it to give her peace of mind; I said it to lie to myself, too.

To hang on to that sliver of impossible hope, as if maybe saying it out loud would make it real.

But hope’s a dangerous thing, especially when you’re out of it and trying to pretend you’re not.

? ? ?

A day passed , maybe two. I hadn’t heard from Isabelle—or about the deal.

The stillness was maddening, wrapping itself around me like a straitjacket, making every minute feel like an eternity.

Isolation was the name of the game, with the only faces I got to see being the guards.

They peeked in every few hours, just to make sure I hadn’t offed myself out of boredom.

Every time the slot opened, they’d shoot me a look, grunt out a half-assed ‘You good?’ Like it meant something.

I’d nod. Or not. Sometimes I flipped them off just to make a point.

Either way, it was the most excitement I got in this place.

Strangely enough, I waited for the agents to continue the interrogations.

Sure, they were a pain, but they gave me something to focus on, a way to pass the time.

Now? Me and the silence. That was it. And the aftermath I didn’t have the energy to face.

The door creaked open again.

Guess they missed my charming company.

Two guards cuffed my hands and hauled me up, without saying a word to each other. They led me out of the cell, down the same bleak-as-hell corridors, and back into that cold, sterile interrogation room I was getting way too comfortable with.

Tom strolled in, looking more relaxed than I’d seen him in years.

I should’ve felt something—hope, relief, even a flicker of excitement. But I didn’t. There was no point in lying to myself anymore .

He dropped into the seat with zero subtlety, leaning forward like he had a secret he couldn’t wait to spill.

“Luca,” he said, eyes dancing. “You’re not gonna believe this shit.”

Then he went off, explaining how Isabelle had somehow managed to charm or bulldoze her way up the food chain. She’d landed a deal. An offer of transactional immunity, cleared at the highest level. Signed and sealed by the Attorney General himself.

That should’ve been enough to knock me flat, but nope—Tom wasn’t done.

“Oh, and by the way,” he added, grin already pulling at his mouth. “Isabelle didn’t just save your ass. She managed to get Enzo, Nina, Reid, and the whole damn family included in the deal too.”

I ran a hand over my face, trying to process it all.

“Of course, she did,” I muttered, more to myself than to Tom.

Leave it to Isabelle to clean up my shit and somehow manage to sweep up everyone’s mess in the process. That’s my girl. She hadn’t just fought for me—she’d fought for all of us.

After talking with me about the terms, Tom called in one of the agents who’d been grilling me from the start.

He sat down, shaking his head. “I don’t know how she made it happen, but damn, she did a hell of a good job protecting you. She pulled strings that are out of reach for most people.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the pride I felt for Isabelle was undeniable.

Who was I kidding? She’d just pulled off the kind of stunt that would make seasoned criminals sit up and take notes.

And here I was, pretending like this was just another Tuesday.

If I weren’t already in love with her, this would’ve sealed the deal.

A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth. “She’s full of surprises.”

Understatement of the century, but I wasn’t about to give this guy the satisfaction of seeing just how floored I was.

There was something deliciously ironic about it—me, the supposed crime lord, getting saved by my wife, who happened to be smarter, tougher, and apparently better connected than anyone in this room.

The agent studied me as if I were a case file. Like he was trying to figure out how someone like me had ended up with someone like her.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t test her limits. From where I’m sitting, in some ways, she’s more dangerous than you are.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t mess with her.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, even though there was too much truth in it.

Isabelle was a force of nature. And anyone who underestimated her was a damn fool.

Including me. I spent too much time thinking I could protect her by walking away.

That if I cut her loose, I could save her from me, locked in a cell for the rest of my life at best, sitting through my execution at worst. And thank God I’d been a coward about it.

Thank God I couldn’t go through with it.

Because giving up on us would’ve been the biggest mistake of all.

Because she didn’t need saving. She was out there playing chess while the rest of us were still fumbling with checkers.

I didn’t just love her. I was staggered by her. And that scared the hell out of me, in the best possible way. But more than anything, I was damn proud. Proud that she was mine, and proud that, against all odds, she’d done what no one else could—getting us out of here.

Relief washed over me. It wasn’t the storybook kind of ending, all soft light and no baggage. But it was pretty damn close. Hell, considering where we started, this was a miracle wrapped in legalese.

They walked me back like they always did—same empty hallway, same sound of the lock sliding into place. But now the silence wasn’t empty. Now, it was waiting with me.

? ? ?

Tom slid the papers across the table, his voice steady, as if he were walking me through a routine contract, nothing more.

But he wasn’t.

These were the conditions of my release—temporary, controlled, and tight. Just a pause while they hammered out the real deal.

I picked up the pen and signed my name on the dotted line, watching the ink bleed into the paper.

It wasn’t a new start—could never be. The deal I made with the feds didn’t erase the life I’d lived.

I wasn’t suddenly free of all of it. In this life, there’s no such thing as a clean break.

Blood in, blood out. That’s the deal. And I wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon, but that didn’t mean I’d be back in the thick of it either. Not like before.

Nico had already stepped in as underboss the second I was arrested.

My brother had always been designated as the spare, the backup plan.

He knew the role, knew the rules. There hadn’t been a flicker of hesitation.

No confusion, no scrambling. Just like any well-oiled machine, the family had its continuity plan in place—ready for moments like this.

Nico didn’t miss a beat, taking over in a matter of hours. No mess, no panic.

In a way, it was a little humbling. One minute I was running the show, the next I was out of the picture, and the machine kept humming along without a hitch.

But I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sting.

Still, I couldn’t exactly complain. I was alive, Isabelle and Jake were safe, and my brother had everything under control.

And with the deal in motion, we were going to be free.

Enzo and I were temporarily out of the picture until this shitshow with Parker was over, until that asshole was found guilty and locked away for good.

But once that son of a bitch was found guilty, and the dust settled?

That was when I’d step back in—just not the way I had before. I’d stay on the sidelines .

Staying out of the heat, though, didn’t mean I was done with the fire.

I wasn’t delusional. The old man would still have me running jobs, handling problems, following orders when things got messy.

But I wasn’t leading anymore. That was Nico’s job now.

And maybe that was for the best. Now, I could focus on what really mattered—Isabelle, Jake, and keeping them far from anything like this ever again.

I leaned back in the chair, let the pen hang in my hand a second longer, and then dropped it.

“So this is it,” I muttered.

The agent stepped up without a word, black ankle monitor already waiting. He knelt down, wrapped it around my ankle, and snapped the cold clasp shut.

“You know the rules. You step out of line, and we’ll be on you faster than you can blink.

No contact with Enzo or Nina. And we’ll have a man stationed in your house, keeping tabs.

Play by the rules, and we won’t have any problems.” The agent straightened, motioning me toward the door.

“We’ll be taking you home now. Don’t give us a reason to regret this deal. ”

I smirked, giving a small shrug. “Sure, officer. I’ll play nice.”

Two agents stepped forward, leading me out of the room. The hallway was as gray and soulless as it had been every other time I’d walked through it, but now, it wasn’t dragging me back to a cell.

The ride back was silent. The agents kept their eyes on me, like I might try something stupid.

I didn’t. No way I was blowing this.

When we pulled up, I stepped out and stared at the front door.

After everything that had happened, standing here again was like waking up from a bad dream.

But this was no dream, and there was no waking up.

This was the new reality—house arrest, an agent living with us, the monitor on my ankle.

Still, it was better than the alternative.

Better than never seeing Isabelle and Jake again.

That thought had haunted me from the moment they were taken, and no matter how tough I’d acted, it had been the worst kind of hell. Now? Now, I was home.