Shattered Crown (Bound by Bloodlines Book 2)

1. Chapter One Adriana

Glass shattered.

I snapped my eyes open. Sharp, cold fear rushed through me, slicing through the warmth of sleep like a knife. Tristan was already up, his body rigid, eyes narrowed and sharp in the dim light. His hand reached out to the bedside table, fingers wrapping around the cold metal of the handgun he kept there. Always prepared, always ready.

It took me a few seconds to reorient myself. We’d been staying in the Callahan estate. Tristan had insisted that we move into his place because they had more security and I couldn’t fault him for thinking that. My apartment was smaller. There was no 24/7 security. There were a lot of things that had to be done with the Callahan estate still and Tristan appreciated being home after his father’s death.

And then there was the fact that it allowed me to get away from my own sister, from my own family. Not that things with Tristan were much better. He was still sure we shouldn’t get married yet and I wasn’t going to try to convince him of anything he didn’t want to do.

But all of these thoughts were fucking irrelevant, anyway, because Tristan was moving like a shadow in the darkened bedroom to grab the gun he kept in the closet.

I sat up, pulling on the oversized shirt Tristan had worn yesterday, my fingers shaking as I reached for the knife I had started to keep by my side of the bed.

“Stay here,” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep and tension. But I was already too awake, too aware of the danger lurking in our once safe space to obey.

“What if...” The thought of him facing the unknown enemy alone made my stomach twist, my heart pounding so hard it was all I could hear. “What if you need backup?”

“I’ll call Kieran,” he said. “Not my pregnant girlfriend.”

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me, “Pregnancy hasn’t made me useless, Tristan.”

“But it makes you someone I can’t afford to lose. Seriously, Adriana. Stay here,” he shot back, pausing at the door to shoot me one last glance. Underneath the stern exterior, I could see the fear flickering in his ice-blue eyes.

Before I could say anything else, he slid out of the room and shut the door behind him. The soft click felt like a gunshot, and I was left alone in the sudden stillness.

I remained where I was, clutching the cold knife in my hand as I strained my ears to listen for any sign of danger. My heart pounded against my ribs, matching the rhythm of the old antique clock ticking away in the hall.

Minutes ticked by with torturous slowness. And then... a crash from below. I flinched at the sound, terror twisting like a cold snake around my spine. Instinct propelled me to my feet, the rough carpet beneath my bare soles grounding me in the reality of the situation.

“Fuck it,” I whispered to the empty room, my fingers closing around the doorknob. Tristan’s words echoed in my mind. I could practically hear him telling me off for doing something foolish. But I couldn’t just sit here, not when I heard another crash from downstairs, followed by a muffled groan that could’ve been Tristan’s.

I slipped out of the bedroom, my heart pounding in time with my hurried footsteps. The darkness was thick around me, swallowing up any sense of familiarity this house once held. Every shadow seemed to be hiding something sinister, every creak of the floorboards under me felt like a threat.

Making my way down the staircase was like walking through a nightmare, each step slower than the one before. The living room light flickered on abruptly and I froze, blinded momentarily by its stark brightness.

I wasn’t used to the Callahan estate.

This wasn’t my home. It was a fortress, a stronghold for a family that had become mine, but whose bones were made of secrets, blood, and treachery. Yet it was where I found myself, caught in the middle of a deadly scene as if I had somehow stumbled onto the set of some graphic mafia movie.

Tristan had his back to me, his attention focused on an intruder. The intruder was also brandishing his gun at Tristan. I couldn’t see the intruder’s body because Tristan was standing in the way.

I thought about calling out, alerting Tristan to my presence, but that would only distract him. The intruder was wearing a mask, revealing nothing of his features. I was grateful for the fact that he was facing away from me and that I hadn’t fully rounded the hallway corner; it concealed me as I edged further into the room.

Tristan’s body was rigid, caution and concentration etched into every line of his tall frame. Seeing him like this felt like a punch in the gut—another stark reminder that the man I loved was not just a man, but a soldier always ready for battle.

The intruder moved suddenly, lunging at Tristan. My heart stopped as Tristan dodged the assault in a swift motion, retaliating with a punch of his own. The room echoed with the sickening crack of bone connecting with flesh.

But even in the flurry of violence, Tristan remained calm. His movements were precise and calculated: a kick thrown here, a punch landed there. It was like watching some brutal kind of dance.

The intruder was fast, but Tristan was faster. Every attack was met with a counterattack, every step followed by a step back. They circled each other like predators stalking their prey. My breath hitched with every clash, every move Tristan made.

Before I knew it, the intruder was on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Tristan stood over him, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. In the dim light, I could see the ruthlessness in his eyes—those were not the same eyes that had cradled me with warmth and love just a few hours ago.

“Who sent you?” Tristan demanded, but the man merely chuckled before coughing up more blood. He didn’t answer; instead, he reached out to grab at Tristan’s leg.

Tristan rewarded him with a harsh kick in the face. The introducer let out a groan, spitting blood on the cold marble floor. My stomach churned at the sight, the sharp tang of iron filling the room and stinging my nostrils.

“Wrong move,” Tristan said. The gun was still in his hand, and Tristan stuck out his arm to get him in the temple. The body of the intruder had fallen in an inelegant heap on the floor and he was just…lying there. Doing nothing. When Tristan pulled the trigger, the gunshot was silenced, but it still felt like it cut through every single noise around us.

The bleeding got worse, and the life slowly drained out of him, his eyes growing vacant and glazed-over. All around us was a shocking tableau of violence I’d never forget — our sanctuary turned into a battlefield.

“Adriana,” Tristan said, cutting through the aftermath of chaos, his voice sounding foreign in the heavy silence hanging over us. He turned to me with a look on his face that wrenched my heart--a mix of frustration, relief, and something darker. Fear? Guilt?

“I told you to stay upstairs,” he whispered harshly as he moved towards me. The gun in his hand was still smoking slightly. It was surreal watching him come closer to me, his broad shoulders tense, chest still heaving from exertion. He was here; he was safe.

I forced myself to swallow back the lump in my throat. “You said this was my house too.”

Tristan shook his head. “For fuck’s sake, Adriana,” he said, setting his gun on the side table in the living room. “You have to listen to me. You need to listen.”

“It seemed like you needed help,” I defended myself feebly. I could see the fury in his eyes.

“What would have happened if I hadn’t managed to pin him down?” Tristan asked. “What would have happened to you? What would have happened to the twins?”

His words stung worse than a physical blow. My gaze shifted from his hardened face to the lifeless form on the floor, the grisly scene a harsh reminder of the danger we were in. I glanced down at my stomach, the reality of my pregnancy suddenly hitting like a lead weight.

Our children. The thought was staggering. We were bringing new lives into this dangerous world, this treacherous game we played. Not for the first time, I doubted our decisions, doubted us.

“Tristan, I...” I began, but the words faltered in my throat.

He took a step toward me, closing whatever space was left between us. His hand was on my cheek, his eyes wide and blue and his pupils expanding as soon as he looked at me. The palm of his hand felt…cold, clammy. Where had he dropped his gun?

I didn’t want to think about it.

I didn’t want to think about anything.

And when I looked at his face, I noticed that his expression hadn’t softened. “I can’t lose you. Any of you,” he said. “Do you understand that?”

“I...” The words stuck in my throat, choked by the harsh reality of the situation. My eyes filled with tears, a mixture of fear and frustration. I was not a damsel to be saved; I was used to fighting my own battles.

Tristan’s grip on my cheek tightened slightly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Adriana,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This is not up for debate. “

“Tristan–”

“Adriana. This is not up for debate,“ he repeated. “How can I make you see this?”

I sighed. I knew where he was coming from, I genuinely did. But I was finding this so difficult, this undeniable sense of helplessness that didn’t come from just being pregnant but also being effectively locked away like I currently was. “I don’t know.”

He grabbed my waist, spinned me around, pushed me against the wall. “Fuck,” he whispered, his breath shaky against me.

His eyes raked over me and I felt a shiver creep up my spine. Not of fear, but of the raw intensity that radiated from him. His grip was firm, desperate even, as if he was afraid I’d fade away if his hold loosened. “I’m never letting anything happen to you. I’m never going to let anyone hurt you.” His hands were on the hem of my nightgown, his breath hot against my ear as he kept whispering assurances that felt increasingly hollow.

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Tristan,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “And I can’t live like this.”

My hands wrapped around his wrists, holding them still against my waist. He was shaking now, and I could feel him crash as the adrenaline seemed to be leaving his body.

“I know,” he admitted quietly, his eyes burning into mine. “I know you’re strong. And I trust you more than anything...or anyone else.”

“But—“

He cut me off with a harsh kiss, his mouth moving fiercely over mine as if he was afraid it would be our last. His hands moved up to cradle my face, holding me steady as he poured all his anger, fear, and desperation into the kiss.

I couldn’t help but respond to him; my fingers dug into his arms as I kissed him back just as fiercely.

“Only I get to touch you,“ he said when he pulled away, his fingers quickly finding the waistband of my panties and sliding them down my legs.

Frozen by his intensity, I didn’t protest as he lifted me off the ground with an ease that sent a shiver down my spine. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

His mouth was back on mine once again, this time softer, more urgent. His hands were everywhere — roaming across my skin, tugging at the fabric of my nightgown, trailing fire wherever they went. He pressed me against the wall, pinning me with his body as his kisses grew wilder, desperate.

His touch was steady as he slid his hands down to my core. Fuck, you’re so wet for me,“ he said. “It’s so sexy. I’m going to fuck you now, Ade.”

With a sudden movement, he ripped the delicate fabric of my nightgown off, exposing me to his heated gaze. His eyes darkened with desire as he looked at me, his breath hitching slightly at the sight.

“I can’t wait,” he said.

He kept kissing me, pinning me against the wall with just his firm body and one arm, the other one going to his boxers and sliding them down just enough to give him access to his cock.

Still panting, he guided himself to my entrance, his eyes never leaving mine. “Adriana,” he breathed, a warning and a plea combined. I nodded, bracing myself for the invasion.

With one swift movement, he pushed inside me, drawing a gasp from both of us. There was nothing gentle about our union; it was raw, desperate passion. As if we were drowning and we were the only ones keeping each other afloat.

I cried out against his mouth as pleasure rocked through me, my body tightening around him instinctively. His rhythm stuttered, his breath hitching in his throat as he muttered something that sounded like a curse. The sound of our labored breathing echoed in the otherwise silent room.

His hand slid down from my cheek to my throat, pressing down against my neck until my breath caught in my chest. The world around me narrowed down to him and the overwhelming sensation of him inside me. I watched as his face contorted with pleasure, blue eyes darkened with lust and love.

Each thrust only heightened the raw intensity between us, the room filling with the sound of our ragged breaths and the soft thud of our bodies colliding against the wall.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine. His gaze held mine hostage, his cerulean eyes darkened with lust and possession. As if he was marking every corner of me, claiming me as his - soul, body and mind.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his voice rough. He wanted to hear it on my lips, a testament of my surrender to him.

“Tristan,” I gasped out, my nails digging into the flesh of his back as the coil in my belly threatened to snap.

“That’s it,” he growled, his fingers tightening around my neck as his free hand slid down to where we were joined. His fingers danced over the sensitive nub of nerves sending a jolt through me.

His name slipped past my lips again and again until it was the only coherent thought in my mind. I clawed at his back, leaving marks that would last until morning. His hand on my throat tightened ever so slightly, cutting my breath short and spiraling me further towards the edge.

“I love being inside of you,” he said.

With a final thrust, he sent me hurtling into oblivion. My vision blurred as pleasure ripped through me. And when I came crashing down, Tristan was there, catching me and holding me close.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his warm breath fanning over my sweaty skin. He didn’t pull out of me, not yet. Instead, he held me tighter, as if trying to imprint himself onto me, inside and out.

“Adriana,” he said, his voice a sigh against my earlobe. “My Adriana.”

His words sent shivers down my spine. We were one in that moment—if only for a moment—a single entity lost in our world of strained breaths and shared warmth.

The words echoed in the room as he brushed a gentle kiss against my neck, making me breathe out into his touch. I held him close, our bodies still entwined as he slowly pulled out of me. He set me gently on the ground, his hands never leaving my body as he pressed a chaste kiss to my lips.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I replied. “Just didn’t expect that.”

He chuckled low in his throat, a sound that warmed me from the inside out. His shirt hung loose from his body and my fingers itched to run across his chest. I hesitated for a moment before reaching out, tracing the hard planes of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my fingertips.

His eyes met mine, blue hues softer now, no longer filled with urgency and desire but rather a quiet contentment that made my heart flutter in my chest. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear before leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Just needed you,” he murmured against my skin, sending shivers coursing through me. “Just this… us…It’s the only thing that makes any sort of sense right now. Anyway. I should go clean up. The dead body isn’t going to take care of itself.”

“I’m not going to let you take care of this by yourself,” I said. “I can’t just go back to bed. Let me help.”

He shrugged, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t want you involved in this, Adriana.”

“But I am involved, Tristan.“ I said fiercely. “Whether we like it or not.”

He studied me for a moment, his blue gaze intense. I could tell he was battling with himself, the protective instinct that wanted to keep me out of harm’s way clashing with the realization that we were in this together.

“Alright,” he said finally, exhaling slowly. “But just stay by my side. The last thing I need is another surprise.”

I picked up my head as the home system alerted us that someone had arrived at the driveway. “What kind of surprise?” I asked as I looked at the display on the TV, showing us the camera feed from outside. “Because that looks a hell of a lot like my mother’s car.”