Chapter 12 Matteo #2
"Yes." I moved closer. "I know it feels like a cage. I know it takes away the freedom you just found. But Stefan—I can't let them take you. Can't let them use you as a weapon. Can't—" My voice cracked. "I can't lose you to federal custody where I can't protect you."
"So you'd rather lock me up yourself?"
The question hung between us.
"I don't know what else to do," I admitted. "How do I keep you safe without restricting your freedom? How do I protect you without controlling you? I don't have an answer that doesn't involve keeping you close."
Stefan was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You could trust me."
"I do trust you—"
"No. You trust that I won't betray you. That's different from trusting me to handle my own safety." He stepped closer. "If the FBI tries to grab me, I'll refuse to talk. I'll demand a lawyer. I'll invoke every right I have. And if they charge me anyway, I'll fight it."
"Stefan—"
"I'm not my father, Matteo. I don't cooperate with feds. I don't betray people who've protected me. I don't—" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "I don't abandon the people I love just because things get difficult."
"You love me?" My voice came out rough.
"Of course I love you." Stefan's eyes were fierce. "Why else would I cut ties with my entire family? Why else would I stay when every logical part of my brain says I should run? Why else would I choose you over everything I've ever known?"
"Stefan—"
"I love you." His voice was firm now. Certain. "And I need you to trust that. Trust that I won't betray you even if the FBI threatens me. Trust that I can handle difficult situations without you locking me away for my own good."
I pulled him close. Buried my face against his neck. "I love you too. So fucking much it terrifies me."
"Then stop trying to protect me from everything." Stefan's arms wrapped around me. "I don't need you to eliminate every threat. I need you to trust me. To treat me like an equal instead of something fragile that needs to be locked away."
He was right. Again.
"I'll remove the guards from the apartment," I said. "But the ones in the building stay. Compromise?"
"Can I leave the building?"
"Not alone. Not until the trial's over." I pulled back to look at him. "That's not negotiable, Stefan. The FBI surveillance is too heavy. If they grab you off the street, I can't protect you."
"But I can leave with you? Or with someone you trust?"
"Yes."
"And you'll tell me when there are new threats instead of just locking me down without explanation?"
"Yes."
He studied my face. "This still feels like a cage. You know that, right? Even with the compromises. Even with the promises. I'm still restricted. Still dependent on you for permission to move freely."
"I know." The admission hurt. "But Stefan—I don't know how else to keep you safe. This is the best balance I can find between your freedom and my need to protect you."
"Is it protection? Or is it possessiveness disguised as protection?"
The question cut deep because I didn't have a good answer.
Was I restricting Stefan's movement because the FBI threat was real? Or was I using the threat as justification for keeping him close? For making sure he couldn't leave even if he wanted to?
"I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe both. Maybe the threat is real but I'm also using it as an excuse to keep you locked down because the thought of you being somewhere I can't reach you makes me insane."
"At least you're honest about it."
"I'm always honest with you. Even when the truth makes me look like exactly what I am—possessive and controlling and probably unhealthy."
"Yeah." Stefan's lips curved slightly. "But you're my possessive, controlling, unhealthy person. So I guess I'll deal with the guards and the restrictions and the feeling like I'm back in a cage."
"You shouldn't have to deal with it."
"No, I shouldn't. But I will. Because I love you. Because I trust that you're trying to do the right thing even if the execution is flawed. Because—" He stopped. "Because I'm choosing this. The restrictions. The guards. The cage. I'm choosing it because the alternative is worse."
"What alternative?"
"Losing you." His voice was quiet. "If the FBI grabs me and forces me to testify, they'll tear us apart.
If they charge me and I go to prison, we lose years.
If they succeed in using me as leverage against you, we both lose.
" He held my gaze. "So if accepting restrictions for three months means we stay together, I'll accept them. "
The relief that flooded through me was almost painful.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me for accepting a cage, Matteo. That's fucked up."
"I know. But I don't know what else to say."
He kissed me. Soft. Almost sad. "Say you'll try to make this as painless as possible. Say you'll remember I'm choosing this instead of taking it for granted. Say you'll keep checking that I still want to stay."
"I promise." I held him close. "All of that. I promise."
We stood there for a long moment. Both processing the conversation. Both facing the reality that the next three months would test us in ways we hadn't anticipated.
"I'm scared," Stefan admitted quietly.
"Of what?"
"Of the FBI. Of what they could do to us.
Of testifying or going to prison or being forced to choose between protecting you and protecting myself.
" He pressed closer. "And I'm scared that three months of restrictions will turn into six months.
Then a year. That you'll keep finding reasons to keep me locked down because it's easier than trusting me to handle danger. "
The fear was valid.
"I'm scared too," I said. "Of losing you. Of the FBI tearing us apart. Of you realizing one day that I'm just another man controlling your life and you're better off without me."
"I won't realize that."
"You might. If I keep treating you like something to be protected instead of a partner."
"Then don't do that." Stefan pulled back to look at me. "Treat me like a partner. Include me in decisions. Ask instead of deciding. Trust me to handle myself even when it's scary."
"I'll try."
"That's all I'm asking."
That night, I lay awake with Stefan asleep beside me and tried to figure out how to balance protection with partnership.
The guards stayed. Two in the hallway. Four stationed around the building's exits. More watching the street outside. All under orders to make sure Stefan didn't leave without me or someone I explicitly trusted.
It was a cage. Stefan was right about that.
But it was also the only way I knew to keep him safe from federal agents who'd use any leverage they could find.
Three months until the trial. Twelve weeks of restrictions and guards and Stefan feeling trapped. Twelve weeks of trying to protect him without becoming exactly like the father he'd escaped from.
I didn't know if I could do it.
Didn't know if I could keep the balance between protection and control. Between keeping Stefan safe and keeping him prisoner.
But I had to try.
Because the alternative—losing Stefan to the FBI, to federal charges, to testimony that would destroy us both—was unthinkable.
Stefan stirred beside me. "You're thinking too loud."
"Sorry."
"What's wrong?"
"Just worried. About the trial. About keeping you safe. About—" I stopped. "About becoming the thing you escaped from."
Stefan turned to face me. His hand cupped my jaw. "You're not my father, Matteo. You're controlling and possessive and yes, you put me back in a cage. But you listened when I called you out. You're trying to find balance even if you're not there yet."
"That's a low bar."
"It's higher than Giuseppe ever set." He kissed me softly. "I'm not saying this is perfect. I'm not saying I love the restrictions or the guards or feeling trapped. But I understand why. And I'm choosing to stay anyway."
"For now."
"For now," he agreed. "Ask me again in three months. After the trial. After the threat's passed. We'll see if I still want to stay when the cage isn't justified by FBI surveillance."
It was fair. More than fair.
"And if you don't? If three months of restrictions makes you realize you're better off somewhere else?"
"Then we'll deal with it." Stefan's eyes held mine. "But Matteo? I don't think that's going to happen. I think we're going to get through the trial. Get through the restrictions. And come out the other side still together."
"You sound very certain."
"I am certain." He smiled slightly. "I didn't cut ties with my entire family just to give up on you because things got hard. I'm in this. For better or worse. Even when worse includes guards and cages and you being overprotective."
I pulled him close. Held him like letting go would destroy me.
"I love you," I said. "Even though I'm bad at showing it in healthy ways."
"I love you too. Even though I'm probably insane for loving someone who kidnapped me and keeps locking me in cages."
"We're both insane."
"Completely." He pressed his face against my chest. "But I'm not ready to lose you yet. So let's get through these three months. Get through the trial. And then we can work on being less fucked up about each other."
"Deal."
We fell asleep tangled together. Both scared. Both uncertain. Both facing a future that could tear us apart.