22. Chapter Twenty-Two Ruby #2
But I didn’t move.
I kept thinking about Rosie. About how she’d fallen asleep in my lap two nights ago with Frozen playing in the background and a glue stick in her hand.
About how I’d almost missed bedtime again tonight.
And what if this meant missing more? What if this meant letting her down in ways I couldn’t even see yet?
What if Julian was right?
I could hear Alek’s voice in my head telling me to breathe, to focus, to take the win. But it didn’t feel like a win. Not yet. Not while there was still so much to prove. So many people waiting for me to fuck it up.
This wasn’t the finish line. It was the start of the longest fight I’d ever signed up for.
And somehow, in all the noise, the thought that cut through clearest wasn’t about policy or power or the Callahans’ looming threat.
It was: I hope Rosie doesn’t learn to hate me while I’m doing this.
I hope Kieran isn’t waiting somewhere…still lurking, biding his time until he destroys me.
I took a breath, steadied my voice, and leaned in. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for believing in me. Now let’s get to work.”
I looked at the words, the neatly typed lines on crisp paper, and they felt wrong. They felt too perfect, too rehearsed for the magnitude of what was happening.
My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd. My hands shook. My mouth went dry. The city waited. They waited for me to speak, to say something, to say anything. But for the first time, I didn’t know if I could.
But now, standing here, it felt too neat, too rehearsed, too small for what this moment actually was. I let the paper drop and spoke from the gut.
I stepped up to the podium and took a breath, scanning the crowd like I might find an escape hatch. No luck. Just flashbulbs. Shouting. Cheers. And somewhere in the back of my mind, Rosie’s little voice saying Mami, we won!
I adjusted the mic.
“First—I need to thank my team. Alek, my campaign manager, and of course the volunteers who gave up their weekends and weeknights to knock doors, pass out flyers, keep me sane—this campaign would not exist without you.”
I could see Alek in the wings, hands folded, shoulders tight. He’d coached me through this a hundred times, but right now, it was just me. He grinned, and I thought I saw tears sparkling in his eyes.
“This campaign wasn’t about me,” I said. “It was about all of us. About the kind of Boston we want to build. Safer. Fairer. Honest.”
I saw someone near the front raise a fist. I almost laughed. I was in a bathrobe twelve hours ago.
“I know what it’s like to feel like no one’s listening,” I said.
“I know what it’s like to be scared. To feel like the system is rigged against you.
And I ran because I believe we deserve better.
Boston deserves leadership that protects the people who actually live here—not the ones pulling strings from behind the scenes. ”
A beat. My voice wavered just once, but I didn’t let it break.
“I promised to be tough on crime,” I continued, the words sharp now. “And I meant it. But that means all crime. The street-level and the boardroom. The systems that keep people trapped and the men who think they can play kingmaker behind closed doors. That ends now.”
The crowd roared. For once, I let myself hear it.
“This is just the beginning,” I said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
I stepped back. Alek was already moving, talking to the press, guiding things like he always did.
I let him.
The election night party was madness. People hugged and shouted and tossed more champagne into the air. It rained down on us, cold and sticky, but I didn’t care. I laughed, caught up in the madness of it, the incredible, unbelievable madness.
I had barely sat down all night. I had barely caught my breath. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this, except the truth of it, except the victory that we had worked so hard to claim.
The demands came faster than I could keep up with, the voices and the bodies and the cameras all fighting for space, for attention. My heart raced. My pulse pounded. I could barely keep up, but I didn’t care. I let it happen. I let it carry me away.
Julian stuck close with Rosie. Mayor Sloane was there with Camille too, and Alek kept his usual post at my side, arms crossed, watching the room like he expected someone to pull a gun on me right here in the middle of all these people.
He had been on edge ever since that phone call, ever since he found out that the man I put away was back on the streets—the one that prompted Alek to gift me a gun and a celebratory cake. It was contentious—but fuck it. I had won then. I won now.
Julian checked his watch, already shifting Rosie higher on his hip. She was half-asleep against his shoulder, thumb tucked into her mouth, curls sticking to his jacket. He gave me a look—one of those you should wrap this up looks that he wore so well.
I stepped down from the stage, brushing confetti off my skirt, and kissed her forehead. “Be good for Daddy, okay? No homework. It’s a celebration.”
Julian raised his brows. “Don’t make me revoke your authority, Madam DA.”
I smirked. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would,” he said dryly. “But only after bedtime.”
Rosie reached out to touch my face, blinking up at me. “See you tomorrow, Mami.”
“I love you, baby,” I whispered. “Go get some sleep.”
Julian nodded to Alek, then disappeared into the crowd, Rosie’s head drooping against his chest.
I watched Julian, Sloane and Camille leave with her, disappearing into the crowd, Rosie’s laughter echoing back to me as they went.
It was the perfect end to a perfect night, and I wanted to hold onto that feeling.
I wanted to stay in this moment, to let it stretch and stretch until it was all I knew.
Alek didn’t give me the chance. He was there before I could blink, his hand gripping my shoulder, his expression tight.
“Ruby.”
I exhaled, dragging my gaze from the group of donors I had been half-listening to. “Not now,” I said.
“Now,” he countered. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I need you to be careful.”
“Aren’t we supposed to be celebrating? Don’t you ever stop to celebrate? You did this. You got me elected.”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll celebrate as soon as I know you’re safe.”
“I am safe, Alek. I’m careful.”
“You need to be more careful. We still don’t know Russell’s whereabouts.”
“He’s not the first parolee who’s escaped,” I said. “And definitely not the first one who’s come after me.”
“He’s the only one that had pictures of you in his cell with your eyes scratched out.”
“He was probably bored. I’ve heard prison is incredibly boring.”
“Ruby, I’m serious.”
“Alek—”
He cut me off, his voice low and insistent. “You can’t ignore this, Ruby. Not now.”
I sighed, rubbing my temple. The adrenaline still buzzed in my veins, but the exhaustion was catching up fast. “I know you’re worried. I know. But nothing’s going to happen. We won, okay? This is over.”
“It’s not over,” he said, and the tension in his voice pulled at something deep inside me. “Not if he’s out. Not if he wants revenge.”
I stared at him, at the worry etched into his features, and tried to let it sink in. Tried to let myself care. But I was still on the edge of victory, and I didn’t want to give it up. Not for this.
“He’s just one guy,” I said, dismissive. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”
“He’s dangerous.”
I crossed my arms, frustration building in my chest. “I’ve put plenty of dangerous people away, Alek. This isn’t any different.”
“It is different. You’re not ADA anymore.”
“So what?”
“So now you’re DA,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine, serious and unwavering. “That makes you a target.”
His eyes flicked toward the windows, toward the crowd still celebrating outside. “I don’t like this.”
I sighed and rubbed my temple. “Alek, you put the police on me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Then it’s fine.” I smiled tightly. “I won. Let me enjoy this.”
He wasn’t happy. I could see it, but he didn’t push. Not yet. Instead, he glanced toward the clock and then back at me. “It's almost time to wrap this up. Do you want to party?”
“Isn’t this enough of a party?”
“No. I meant get actually drunk. Not in front of reporters drunk.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I just want to go home and sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.” Julian was taking Rosie home with him, which meant for the first time in weeks, I’d have the house to myself. That sounded nice.
“We can just get drunk and watch The Traitors.”
“On Sunday. I promise,” I said. “Not tonight. I’m people’d out. And we have that big celebratory gala next weekend...”
He smiled. “Fair. But please look after yourself, okay? You promise?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I promise.”
***
By the time I got home, the buzz of the celebration had faded, leaving only bone-deep exhaustion in its place.
My heels clicked against the hardwood as I stepped inside, but even that felt too loud in the hush that met me.
I kicked my shoes off at the door, hung my coat on the rack, and stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle.
It was the first time I’d been alone in what felt like weeks.
The kitchen lights were off, but the under-cabinet glow still glimmered—Alek must’ve left it on for me. On the counter sat an unopened bottle of wine and a glass beside it. My name wasn’t on it, but it might as well have been.
I uncorked the bottle, poured myself a generous glass, and took a slow sip.
The weight of the day started to peel off my shoulders.
I had done it. I was the District Attorney of Boston.
The campaign was over. The fight was just beginning—but tonight, for a few short hours, I could pretend it wasn’t.
I nuked the last of the Pad Thai, padded barefoot into the living room, and sank into the couch with my wine. The TV remote was somewhere under the cushions, and I didn’t care enough to look for it. My head tilted back against the sofa. My eyes closed.
And then—
Crack.
The unmistakable sound of glass shattering somewhere deep in the house.
I sat up fast, heart slamming into my ribs, the wine sloshing over the side of the glass and onto my hand. I held perfectly still, straining to hear.
Nothing.
And then—yes. Footsteps. Slow, heavy. Deliberate.
Not outside.
Inside.
Every instinct screamed at me to move, but my body refused. For a breath, two, I froze, the sharp taste of metal blooming in my mouth. Rosie wasn’t here. Thank God, Rosie wasn’t here. But I was. Alone. And someone else was too.
The calm I’d wrapped around myself all night shattered, replaced by something colder, harder. Alek had been right. I wasn’t safe. Not now. Not ever. Not in this city.
I put the glass down with shaking fingers, silent as I could, and stood. I didn’t reach for my phone. There wouldn’t be time. I had to get to the kitchen.
I had to get to the gun.
The footsteps came again, closer this time. Just past the hallway. I moved fast and quiet, staying in the shadows, stepping only where I knew the floor wouldn’t creak. My eyes adjusted as I went. The kitchen was ten steps away. Maybe less.
I kept my breathing shallow, my body tight, focused. The fear was real, but I didn’t let it control me.
He was in my house.
He was here for me.
And I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I had to move.
I had to get the gun.