{"id":596,"date":"2026-10-19T04:31:39","date_gmt":"2026-10-19T04:31:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/?p=596"},"modified":"2026-10-19T04:31:39","modified_gmt":"2026-10-19T04:31:39","slug":"i-couldnt-leave-you-there-she-whispered-then-realized-she-had-rescued-a-mafia-boss","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/?p=596","title":{"rendered":"\u201cI Couldn\u2019t Leave You There,\u201d She Whispered \u2014 Then Realized She Had Rescued A Mafia Boss"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/figure>\n
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\u201cI Couldn\u2019t Leave You There,\u201d She Whispered \u2014 Then Realized She Had Rescued A Mafia Boss<\/h1>\n
\n

Chapter 1<\/h2>\n
\n

\u201cI Couldn\u2019t Leave You There,\u201d She Whispered \u2014 Then Realized She Had Rescued A Mafia Boss<\/p>\n

The rain had been falling for three hours before Naomi Mercer got the call.<\/p>\n

It came in at 11:14 at night. A juvenile red fox hit by a vehicle near the forest preserve on the western edge of Cook County. Possible spinal injury. The preserve\u2019s overnight ranger had already flagged it, which meant Naomi was the one going out.<\/p>\n

She was always the one going out. She never complained about it. That wasn\u2019t her style.<\/p>\n

She pulled on her jacket, grabbed her field kit, and climbed into the wildlife medical truck the organization had let her outfit herself two years ago, when she first took the lead paramedic position. The truck smelled like antiseptic and pine needles. She liked that combination more than she probably should have.<\/p>\n

The fox hadn\u2019t survived.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d known the moment she reached it. Twelve years of fieldwork teaches you to read the signs before you even crouch down \u2014 the way an animal holds its neck, the particular stillness that isn\u2019t rest.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d done what she could anyway, because she always did. And then she\u2019d sat in the rain beside the animal for a moment longer than was professionally required, because that was also who she was.<\/p>\n

By the time she started back toward the city, it was past one in the morning.<\/p>\n

The highway was nearly empty. The kind of empty that makes you feel like the last person alive, where headlights are company and the radio is conversation. She had the scanner on low, out of old habit. She was thinking about whether she\u2019d remembered to lock her apartment door when the car appeared ahead of her.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t just stopped. It was wrong.<\/p>\n

The angle was wrong. The position was wrong. The way the driver\u2019s door hung open was wrong. Naomi had seen enough roadside situations to recognize the difference between a breakdown and something else.<\/p>\n

This was something else.<\/p>\n

She slowed down. That was her first decision \u2014 not to accelerate, not to call it in and keep moving. To slow down.<\/p>\n

She pulled onto the gravel shoulder and left her emergency lights running, not because regulations required it, but because her instincts did. She stepped out into the rain and reached for her flashlight without thinking about it.<\/p>\n

The beam cut across the wet asphalt and found the car. A dark sedan, front end crumpled against the median barrier. Steam rising from somewhere beneath the hood.<\/p>\n

Then the flashlight found the man.<\/p>\n

He was on his hands and knees about thirty feet from the car, moving toward the ditch with the slow, grinding determination of someone who understood that stopping meant dying. His left arm kept collapsing. Dark stains spread across his upper body, diluted by rain, but still unmistakably red.<\/p>\n

Naomi started moving before she finished processing what she was seeing.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey. Hey, I\u2019m a paramedic. I\u2019m coming to you. Don\u2019t move.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked up.<\/p>\n

She got one second of eye contact. Dark eyes. No panic in them, which surprised her, because most people in that condition are past rational thought.<\/p>\n

Then movement at the treeline pulled her attention sideways.<\/p>\n

Three men. Black tactical gear. Weapons raised.<\/p>\n

The part of Naomi\u2019s brain that governs self-preservation screamed at her to get back in the truck. The part of her that had been pulling injured animals out of impossible situations since she was twenty-six years old said: you can process the fear later.<\/p>\n

She ran forward instead of backward.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet up,\u201d she said to the man on the ground. Not a request. \u201cGet up right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not \u2014 my leg.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t ask about your leg. Get up.\u201d<\/p>\n

She got her arm under his right shoulder. He was heavier than he looked. Or maybe she was more tired than she\u2019d realized. But she\u2019d moved a two-hundred-pound sedated black bear out of a flooded ravine two summers ago, and she hadn\u2019t quit then either.<\/p>\n

She got him moving.<\/p>\n

The first shot hit the asphalt twelve feet behind them. Not at them. Not yet. A warning, or a miscalculation \u2014 she didn\u2019t take the time to determine which.<\/p>\n

She hit the door of her truck with her hip, pulled it open, shoved the man inside with a force she would later feel guilty about, and then she was behind the wheel with her foot already on the accelerator before the door finished closing.<\/p>\n

The truck lurched forward.<\/p>\n

Another shot \u2014 the rear panel. She felt the impact before she heard it.<\/p>\n

Naomi had grown up on the South Side of Chicago. She had watched her older brother navigate corners most people didn\u2019t survive navigating. She knew, in the way certain people know things from experience rather than education, that fear and calm are not opposites. That the right kind of fear makes you very, very still inside.<\/p>\n

She was very still inside right now.<\/p>\n

She drove. Not fast. Not yet. Fast was visible. Fast was trackable. She took the first Forest Service road she knew of, killed the emergency lights, and let the darkness swallow the truck before she finally exhaled.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow many times?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

The man beside her was pressing his own hand against his shoulder with practiced efficiency. That detail registered somewhere in her mind and filed itself away.<\/p>\n

\u201cOnce,\u201d he said. \u201cShoulder. Through and through.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

She stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cThink what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt didn\u2019t feel like it expanded.\u201d She glanced at him. \u201cYou know what expanding rounds feel like?\u201d<\/p>\n

A pause.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know what this doesn\u2019t feel like.\u201d<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t push it.<\/p>\n

The ranger station she pulled into was one she\u2019d used twice before, when she needed shelter during bad weather. It wasn\u2019t much. A single room, a folding table, two chairs, a wood stove that hadn\u2019t been lit in months. The kind of place that exists to be functional and nothing more.<\/p>\n

She got a light source going, got the man into a chair, and cut away his jacket without asking permission.<\/p>\n

The wound was manageable. Painful. Serious if untreated, but manageable. She\u2019d dealt with worse on animals, and she\u2019d assisted on worse in the field. Her hands were steady. They were always steady when it mattered.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t pass out on me,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not going to pass out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPeople say that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not people.\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked up at him briefly. He was watching her work with a kind of focused attention she\u2019d seen in exactly two types of people in her life. Surgeons and soldiers. People who understood what it meant to be in a body, and what it cost when that body failed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoesn\u2019t matter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou just saved my life.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI moved you out of a dangerous position. Whether you live depends on the next forty minutes. Names later.\u201d<\/p>\n

She reached for the antiseptic.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is going to be unpleasant.\u201d<\/p>\n

His jaw tightened. He didn\u2019t make a sound.<\/p>\n

She finished the initial cleaning, packed the wound, and started the dressing while the rain battered the roof above them. The sound was constant, almost rhythmic. In any other circumstances it might have been peaceful.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe men in the woods,\u201d Naomi said, not looking up.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey weren\u2019t highway robbers.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, they weren\u2019t. They weren\u2019t panicked. They moved like they had a plan.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey did have a plan.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWere they going to succeed?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA moment before tonight? Possibly yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

She tied off the dressing and sat back. Looked at him directly for the first time since she\u2019d started working.<\/p>\n

He was somewhere in his forties, she decided. The kind of face that had been handsome once, and had since developed something better than handsome \u2014 a quality of having survived considerable things and emerged with all the sharp edges intact.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not going to tell me what this is about,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t ask.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m asking now.\u201d<\/p>\n

He studied her the way people study things they\u2019re not sure how to categorize.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou drove into gunfire to pull a stranger out of a ditch without hesitation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hesitated a little.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou really didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t make that a bigger thing than it was. I saw someone in trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMost people see someone in trouble and keep driving.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stood up, moved to the window, and looked out at the darkness in the rain.<\/p>\n

\u201cMost people never have to know what they\u2019d actually do. They get to keep the comfortable version of themselves.\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned back.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just never had that option.\u201d<\/p>\n

Something shifted in his expression. Barely visible. But she caught it.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Naomi,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd I need you to stay awake for at least another hour. After that, we\u2019ll figure out next steps. Next steps being \u2014 you call whoever you need to call, they come get you, I go home, and I never speak of this again.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at her for a long moment. There was something in his eyes she couldn\u2019t name. Not gratitude exactly. Not calculation exactly. Something that was both of those things and neither of them.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not going to be possible,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause they got footage of you on the highway.\u201d<\/p>\n

He said it like a man reciting a fact rather than delivering a threat.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe attack was planned near a camera blind spot. But there\u2019s a traffic monitoring system a quarter mile back. By now, whoever coordinated the ambush has your face.\u201d<\/p>\n

The rain kept falling. Naomi felt something that wasn\u2019t quite fear \u2014 she\u2019d had a complicated relationship with fear her entire life \u2014 but was adjacent to it. A sudden weight. The specific feeling of a door closing behind you before you\u2019ve fully walked through it.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho are you?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Before he could answer, they both heard it.<\/p>\n

The distant rumble of engines. Multiple engines. Coming down the forest road.<\/p>\n

Naomi reached for her flare kit without thinking. The man rose from the chair \u2014 not easily, but decisively \u2014 reaching for something at his hip that she realized, belatedly, was a weapon he\u2019d kept concealed through everything.<\/p>\n

She stepped in front of him.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you pull that weapon in this room, whoever comes through that door is going to see two threats. I need them to see one injured man and one medical professional. Do you understand me?\u201d<\/p>\n

He stared at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cSit down,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd put it away.\u201d<\/p>\n

Slowly, with the expression of a man completely unaccustomed to following anyone else\u2019s instructions, he sat down and put it away.<\/p>\n

\u2014<\/p>\n

The engines cut out one by one, and then there was only the rain.<\/p>\n

Naomi stood between the man and the door with her flare kit hanging useless in one hand, because a flare wasn\u2019t a weapon, it was a distraction, and she wasn\u2019t sure yet which one she needed.<\/p>\n

Boots on gravel. Three sets. Maybe four.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet behind the desk,\u201d the man said, low.<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you to sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was before I knew how many there were.\u201d<\/p>\n

The door didn\u2019t open gently. It went back on its hinges with a crack of wet wood, and the flashlight beam that swept the room found Naomi first, standing in the middle of it with her chin up and her hands visibly empty.<\/p>\n

Three men in the doorway. Not the same tactical gear from the highway. Windbreakers. Local. One of them she almost recognized \u2014 a face from the gas station two miles down the county road, the one that never seemed to be manning the register when she stopped in.<\/p>\n

\u201cMa\u2019am, we\u2019re looking for a man involved in an accident,\u201d the lead one said. \u201cWhite sedan, mile marker forty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s no one here but me,\u201d Naomi said. \u201cI\u2019m a wildlife paramedic. I use this station for shelter in bad weather. You\u2019re welcome to look.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her voice didn\u2019t shake. She\u2019d spent twelve years learning how to sound calm in front of things that could kill her, and she used every one of those years now.<\/p>\n

The lead man\u2019s eyes went past her shoulder, to the wood stove, to the two chairs, to the folding table with the bloodied gauze she hadn\u2019t had time to hide.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t say anything about the gauze. That was worse than if he had.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mind if we look around?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mind quite a bit, actually. This is county property and I don\u2019t have authority to let you search it. But I also don\u2019t have authority to stop you, so.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stepped aside, just enough, just wrong enough, so that if he walked forward he\u2019d walk into the angle where the man was sitting in the dark behind the stove, half in shadow, one hand loose at his side and not on the gun she knew was there.<\/p>\n

The lead man took one step in.<\/p>\n

Then his radio crackled, and a voice came through it, tinny and clipped, and he lifted two fingers to his ear and listened, and something in his face changed.<\/p>\n

\u201cCopy,\u201d he said. \u201cPulling back to the ridge road.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at Naomi one more time. Long enough that she understood he\u2019d seen exactly what he came to see, and had decided, for reasons that were not about mercy, to leave it where it was.<\/p>\n

\u201cMa\u2019am. Sorry to bother you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The door shut. The boots retreated. The engines started again, further off this time, moving away down the ridge road instead of toward it.<\/p>\n

Naomi didn\u2019t move until the sound was completely gone.<\/p>\n

Then her knees went, just slightly, the same way his had on the highway, and she caught herself on the edge of the folding table.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey saw you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why did they leave?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause leaving me alive in a locked room with a witness and a working phone is safer for them right now than a shootout in a ranger station. They\u2019ll report exactly what they saw, to exactly the person who sent them, and that person will decide what happens next.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cComforting.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wasn\u2019t meant to be.\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned to look at him. In the low light his face had gone paler, and there was a sheen across his forehead that hadn\u2019t been there five minutes ago.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not doing as well as you\u2019re pretending.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve had worse nights.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not an answer.\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t argue with her about it, which told her more than an argument would have.<\/p>\n

She crossed back to him, checked the dressing, found it holding, found his pulse a little too quick and a little too thin.<\/p>\n

\u201cI need to get you somewhere with actual equipment.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo hospitals.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t say hospital. I said equipment. There\u2019s a clinic forty minutes from here that does field work for the preserve. I know the doctor. She doesn\u2019t ask questions she doesn\u2019t need answered.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd if the men outside are watching the roads.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen we don\u2019t take the roads they\u2019re watching.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at her for a long moment, the same cataloguing look from before, like he was trying to work out which drawer she belonged in and kept failing.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou keep making decisions like someone who\u2019s done this before.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re remarkably calm for someone who hasn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you. I\u2019ve pulled things out of worse.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThings,\u201d he repeated.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnimals. Mostly animals.\u201d<\/p>\n

Something that might have been the ghost of a laugh moved through his chest and turned into a wince halfway there.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t do that,\u201d she said. \u201cDon\u2019t laugh. It pulls the stitches.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUnderstood.\u201d<\/p>\n

She helped him up. He was steadier than he had been at the car but not by much, and he leaned into her more than his pride was clearly comfortable with, and she pretended not to notice, because noticing would have embarrassed them both.<\/p>\n

At the door she stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore we go anywhere,\u201d she said, \u201cI need a name. Not for you. For me. If something happens to you between here and that clinic, I need to know who to say I was with.\u201d<\/p>\n

He was quiet for a moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cDamian Cross,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

The name didn\u2019t mean anything to her. Not yet.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, Damian Cross. Let\u2019s move.\u201d<\/p>\n

They made it four steps into the rain before his phone \u2014 not hers, his, pulled from an inside pocket she hadn\u2019t known he still had \u2014 began to ring.<\/p>\n

He looked at the screen, and whatever color had come back into his face went out of it again.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou need to answer that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI need you to hear what\u2019s on the other end.\u201d<\/p>\n

He put it on speaker.<\/p>\n

A woman\u2019s voice came through, flat and precise. \u201cMr. Cross. We have your brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014<\/p>\n

Nobody spoke for three full seconds.<\/p>\n

Naomi watched Damian\u2019s face and understood, in that silence, that whatever composure had gotten him through a gunshot wound and an armed search had nothing left over for this.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay that again,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have your brother.\u201d The woman\u2019s voice didn\u2019t rise or fall. It had the practiced flatness of someone reading from a script she\u2019d used before. \u201cEthan is comfortable. For now. Comfortable is a condition, Mr. Cross, not a guarantee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you touch him\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re not calling to negotiate his safety. We\u2019re calling to tell you what happens next. You\u2019ll receive an address within the hour. You\u2019ll come alone. If there\u2019s a woman with you\u2014\u201d a pause, deliberate, aimed \u201c\u2014she doesn\u2019t need to be part of this.\u201d<\/p>\n

The line went dead.<\/p>\n

Damian lowered the phone slowly, like it had gotten heavier in his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey know about me,\u201d Naomi said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey knew about you before you got out of your truck tonight. The camera on the highway wasn\u2019t an accident. None of this was an accident.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen this was never about the ambush going wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d His jaw worked. \u201cThe ambush was supposed to fail. It was supposed to look like an amateur job, something I\u2019d survive and dismiss. The real target was never me on that road.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was your brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was buying time to get to my brother while I was distracted bleeding in a ditch.\u201d<\/p>\n

Naomi felt the rain running down the back of her collar and didn\u2019t move to wipe it away.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s Ethan to them? Leverage, or a threat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBoth. He runs the shipping side of what\u2019s mine. He\u2019s twenty-six. He\u2019s never fired a gun at anything that wasn\u2019t a paper target, and somewhere in the last hour, three men who plan ambushes for a living decided he was worth more to them than I was.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo who\u2019s behind it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Damian didn\u2019t answer right away, and the not-answering told her the name mattered enough that saying it out loud would make it real.<\/p>\n

\u201cDominic Reyes,\u201d he said finally. \u201cMy father\u2019s oldest friend. My uncle, if blood meant anything in this family, which it mostly doesn\u2019t. He\u2019s run my logistics for fifteen years. He taught Ethan everything Ethan knows.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think he\u2019s the one who called the men in the woods.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think the men in the woods work for someone who knew which road I\u2019d be on tonight, and only four people knew that route. Three of them are dead or in this truck with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Naomi absorbed that in silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re not going to the clinic,\u201d she said. It wasn\u2019t a question.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re going to the clinic. I\u2019m going to the address they send me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAlone, with a bullet wound and no plan, to negotiate with a man who just kidnapped your brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s the general shape of it, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not a plan, Damian. That\u2019s a slow way to die politely.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at her with something sharpening behind the exhaustion in his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have a suggestion.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have several. None of them involve you walking in there with a hole in your shoulder and no backup, because the version of you that shows up like that isn\u2019t negotiating from strength. It\u2019s negotiating from pity, and men like Reyes don\u2019t respond to pity.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you propose instead?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFirst, we get that shoulder stable enough that you\u2019re not one bad moment from passing out mid-sentence. Second, you call whoever in your organization you actually trust \u2014 because there has to be someone \u2014 and get them moving quietly toward wherever that address turns out to be. Third, you let me drive, because you can\u2019t hold a wheel and a wound at the same time, and I am, in fact, extremely good at driving under pressure.\u201d<\/p>\n

He studied her for a long moment, rain running down both their faces, the phone still loose in his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou realize what you\u2019re offering to be a part of.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m offering to drive a truck. Everything after that is your problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt stopped being only my problem the moment they put your face on a highway camera.\u201d<\/p>\n

Naomi didn\u2019t have an answer for that, so she didn\u2019t try to give him one.<\/p>\n

The phone buzzed again. A single text this time, no name attached, just coordinates and four words.<\/p>\n

**One hour. Come alone.**<\/p>\n

Damian stared at it, and something settled over his features that Naomi hadn\u2019t seen there yet \u2014 not fear, not fury, something colder and more organized than either.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s someone I need to call,\u201d he said. \u201cGet in the truck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n

He was already dialing.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy other brother,\u201d he said. \u201cThe one Reyes doesn\u2019t know exists.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cI Couldn\u2019t Leave You There,\u201d She Whispered \u2014 Then Realized She Had Rescued A Mafia Boss Chapter 1 \u201cI Couldn\u2019t Leave You There,\u201d She Whispered \u2014 Then Realized She Had… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-596","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/596","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=596"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/596\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":597,"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/596\/revisions\/597"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=596"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=596"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lovenews.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=596"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}