Rosalyn thought about leaving, she really did. But somehow she couldn’t make herself believe Diego’s threats were serious. And if they were? Well, it would be better if she fixed the problem rather than run away from it.

Unlike Diego.

She asked Anthony to retract the story, or at least some parts of it. He said he’d consider it, but Rosalyn didn’t have much hope. The article had some of the most shares and page views their website had had in months, and Anthony was in no hurry to mess with a good thing.

She even contacted his boss—the guy that owned the paper—even though as far as Rosalyn knew he had no experience with the day-to-day running of the business. He, too, blew her off, leaving Rosalyn in desperate straits. She had to fix this. Had to make it right. She just didn’t know how.

The answer came at 9am Monday morning. Her phone buzzed, waking her up from a restless night of tossing and turning and occasional tears. When she answered it, Rosalyn took a minute to understand what the person on the other end of the line was saying.

“Wait,” she said eventually. “You’re a cop and you want to interrogate me about my article?”

The woman on the other end of the line made a sound of annoyance. “About the people in your article, yes.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t give up my sources.”

“Just come down to the station. Please.”

Annoyed, Rosalyn agreed, because she sensed a bull dog determination behind the woman’s words and knew it would be easier to show how serious she was in person.

She arrived an hour later. The precinct was a busy hub of activity, with cops in uniform mingling with plain clothes officers, all moving from one place to another while phones rang shrilly in the background.

Rosalyn announced her presence to the woman at the desk—a large African American woman that eyed her with distrust. Rosalyn’s stomach squirmed as she took her seat to wait for Detective Rodriguez. This would be harder than she expected. She was alone here, surrounded by skilled interrogators that wanted information from her. Information she was determined not to give up. She’d betrayed Diego once. She wouldn’t again.

Detective Rodriguez eventually arrived and introduced herself. Rosalyn stood and followed her into an interrogation room, feet dragging with reluctance. She should’ve let the phone call be the end of it.

They settled into the white room, sitting opposite each other with a metallic table between them. Detective Rodriguez said nothing for a long minute, eyeing Rosalyn with a blank expression. Rosalyn had no idea what she was thinking and the sensation was quite unnerving.

“You know why you’re here?”

“The article I wrote?”

Rodriguez inclined her head. She was beautiful, with thick dark hair, dark eyes, and clear skin. But her stoic expression kept Rosalyn on her guard.

“Yes. I need to know the names of your sources.”

“I won’t tell you that,” Rosalyn replied.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a member of the press, and I don’t reveal my sources. Reporter’s privilege.”

Rodriguez narrowed her eyes. “These people are violent criminals. You have no reason to want to protect them. Unless you’re one of them.”

Rosalyn’s eyebrow shot up. “Is that the way you’re seeing it? Well, in that case, I won’t talk to you at all.”

Rodriguez’s eyes sparked in challenge. “Is that so?”

Rosalyn simply smiled. She might think the world Diego had fallen into was violent and terrifying. She might want these fights shut down and these fighters to be free of their master. But she knew now that was not her choice to make. Diego had said the men who fought there did so for a reason, and she believed him.

She knew Diego wouldn’t forgive her. And she didn’t expect him to. What she’d done in her attempt to protect these men had been selfish, stupid, and dangerous. Completely unfair to Diego and the other men. Her heart was shrouded in agony and regret at what she’d done, at what she’d ruined. She hadn’t realised how much she’d miss Diego until he was gone from her life for good.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back tears, trying to stay strong in the face of the police officer. She could cry again later, mourn the loss of Diego.

But in the meantime she could stay silent for him. Preserve this last layer of anonymity. Protect him from the cops, if not from anyone else. It couldn’t undo the damage she’d wrought, but it wouldn’t make the situation worse. For now, the public had no details. They didn’t know who the fighters really were, where the fights were held, who ran them. And she planned to keep it that way.

The cop continued to ask questions, but Rosalyn didn’t answer them, no matter how tempting. She knew she was protected by the law. What she couldn’t understand was why the cops had such an interest in this fight ring.

It was illegal, yes, but warranting this kind of investigation? Rosalyn wasn’t so sure.

Eventually Rodriguez gave up. Just sat back in her chair and stared at Rosalyn with a weary expression.

“Who are you protecting?” she asked softly.

Rosalyn smiled sadly and said nothing. But thoughts of Diego filled her head. She regretted what she’d done. She wished she could turn back time to fix her mistakes, but she knew first-hand life didn’t work that way. She had to hope he’d be alright, and safe. That he’d get out of this country safely and start the life he wanted. Her heart cracked open at the thought of never seeing him again, but that was her punishment.

Eventually, Rodriguez let Rosalyn go. She was on her way out of the station, Rodriguez’s eyes boring into her back, when she caught sight of Carrie talking to the same African American cop that had made Rosalyn so nervous previously. She stopped, then waited until her friend was done.

Carrie’s eyes widened when she turned and saw Rosalyn standing a few feet away. “What are you doing here?” Carried hissed. “You’re not stealing my story are you?” she asked with only mild suspicion.

Rosalyn smiled a shaky smile and shook her head. “No, I was interrogated over the article that went live last week.”

Carrie’s eyebrows shot up. “No way. Why?”

Rosalyn shrugged. “I don’t know, but they wanted information on this case. I can’t imagine why.”

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked, stepping closer to Rosalyn to let a cop pass behind her, placing a hand on her arm.

Rosalyn nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” At least about this. The aching hole in her heart where Diego should be would take longer to heal. She felt his loss like a physical wound. It was her own mistake, she knew. But that didn’t make it suck any less. She’d also known—Diego had stressed it often enough—that their time together would be limited. He’d always intended to go, to leave her.

But it still pained her to think of what might have been. How he’d become such a large part of her life in such a short time. How she already missed him now that he wasn’t there. She’d thought about him all night instead of sleeping, wishing how things might have been different. But they weren’t.

She shook her head to clear it. “What are you doing here?”

“You haven’t heard?” Carrie asked, her eyes lighting in excitement. Rosalyn shook her head and tried to smile, even though Carrie’s excitement instantly exhausted her.

“The Ruby Robber was caught! They’re saying he acted alone, now, and it wasn’t a gang. I’m not sure I believe that, but I desperately want to interview him and hear his side of the story. Can you imagine the exclusive? Anthony will go through the roof.”

“That’s…” Rosalyn swallowed as dread crept up the back of her neck. “That’s great. Do they have an ID?”

Carrie nodded. “Yeah. Some guy from up north.” She bent her head and flicked through her notepad. “Ah, here we go. His name is apparently Diego. Diego Johnson. Though everyone thought he was dead.”

The bottom dropped out of Rosalyn’s stomach at the words. Diego? She couldn’t be serious. But the information fit. The name, the circumstance.

What had possessed Diego to do such a thing? The Ruby Robbers were a gang of violent criminals—or one violent man. Surely not. Surely he couldn’t do such a thing.

But hadn’t he warned her time and again that he wasn’t a good man? Maybe this is what he’d meant. Maybe his criminal past wasn’t as far behind him as he’d led her to believe.

Rosalyn stumbled back and sat heavily on one of the waiting room chairs. It creaked under her weight but she barely noticed, staring blankly ahead.

Diego had been robbing people all this time? Even assaulted people in the process? Nausea welled up in her at the thought that she’d shared her life—her bed—with such a man. But doubt nagged at her, growing larger with every passing second.

The Diego she knew wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that. He may have wanted money to escape his life, but that’s why he was fighting. He wouldn’t resort to hurting innocent people, would he? She couldn’t be sure. She wanted to believe he wouldn’t, but he’d said himself that he had a dark soul.

It was too late to know, now. She’d never see him again. But had she really fallen for a man so evil? She couldn’t fathom it.

Thoughts swirled in her head, making her dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked from the seat beside her, a comforting hand stroking across Rosalyn’s back.

Rosalyn shook her head, the words sticking in her throat. She wasn’t okay, not even close. What had she done? Surely Diego wasn’t who they claimed. There had to be more to what Carrie had been told.

Thankfully, she was just the person to get to the bottom of a story.