25. Chapter Twenty-Five Adriana
Chapter Twenty-Five: Adriana
S o that was what we did.
We went home.
Right back to my parents’ house, as if nothing had ever happened.
The heavy door swung open to the Orsini estate, and a burst of warm air rushed out to meet us, laden with the scent of garlic and herbs from some deep-rooted Italian recipe simmering in the kitchen. I stepped over the threshold, my arms cradling one of the twins, her tiny form a bundle against my chest. Tristan entered beside me, maneuvering his wheelchair with an ease that made the action seem almost thoughtless, the other twin asleep in his lap.
"Welcome home," my mom’s voice was like a melody, wrapping around us as she appeared in the foyer, arms wide, her smile genuine. My mother's presence filled the room with a calm authority, her blonde and silver-streaked hair catching the soft light filtering through the windows.
Silvio followed, his features softer than I remembered, as if grandfatherhood had sanded away some of his edge. "Let me see them," he said, a rare crack in his stoic exterior revealing a glimpse of excitement.
Alessia reached for the baby in Tristan's arms first, cooing words of endearment as she took her granddaughter carefully into her own experienced hold. Silvio watched, his gaze fixed on the newborn with a tenderness that seemed at odds with the man who had navigated the treacherous waters of our world with iron-fisted control.
"Ah, they have the Callahan eyes," my mom noted, her attention shifting to the infant in my arms.
"Thank goodness, not the Orsini temperament," Dad added with a chuckle, which earned him a playful swat from my mother.
Tristan's lips quirked up in a small, knowing smile, as he caught my eye, silent conversations passing between us as always. Kieran lingered by the door, his usual quiet self, while Carmen fussed over blankets and baby things with all the fervor of an excited aunt.
"Come, let's sit. You must be exhausted after the journey," my mother suggested, leading the way into the living room, where sunlight spilled across plush sofas and warmed the rich wood of the coffee table.
As we settled, the twins became the center of everyone's universe, their tiny fists and closed eyes working like a charm to soften even the hardest of hearts. For a moment, the weight of our recent trials seemed to lift, replaced by joy and the simple pleasure of family gathered together.
But all the laughter and cooing over the twins couldn't mask the tension that clung to the air like a winter's chill in the Orsini estate. The joy of new life, a stark reminder of all we stood to lose in this dangerous game we were born into. My mother's fingers, gentle as they danced over the tiny brows of the slumbering infants, held a tremble only I seemed to notice. "We'll take the babies for a bit," Alessia murmured, her voice soothing yet laced with an unspoken urgency. Silvio nodded, his stern face softening as he cradled one of the twins against his chest.
"Let's step outside," Tristan said suddenly, his words cutting through the momentary peace like a sharp breeze. His blue eyes met mine, a silent command that spoke of more than just a need for fresh air.
In the garden, the bare branches of winter stood witness to our clandestine council. Kieran's shoulders, usually squared with defiance, now seemed to carry the weight of secrets too heavy to bear alone. Liam, with his usual casual stance, appeared out of place among the somber faces. I could see it in their eyes—fear mingled with resolve.
“When did you get here?” Kieran asked him.
Liam shrugged, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Just now. Kieran called, said it was important."
I glanced at Kieran, surprised he'd reached out to our youngest brother. Kieran avoided my gaze, his jaw clenched tight.
“He’s involved in this, too,” Kieran explained. “Bellamy is in his ear.”
“Bellamy is a cunt,” Liam said. “Sorry, Ade.”
I waved off Liam's apology, more concerned with the implications of his words. "What exactly has Bellamy been saying to you?"
Liam shifted uncomfortably, his usual carefree demeanor slipping. "Just... hinting at things. Asking questions about our operations, our plans. Trying to gauge where my loyalties lie, I think."
“Bellamy has been trying to make a move for the Callahan empire for years,” Tristan explained. “He was waiting for Dad to die before he showed his face here. And he had a prior relationship with Kieran, which Kieran only told me about, well, after we had to escape Delaware.”
I felt my stomach clench at Tristan's words. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but the picture they formed was uglier than I'd imagined. I turned to Kieran, my voice barely above a whisper. "What kind of relationship?"
“Well, he’s my uncle,” Kieran said. “He sort of took me under his wing in Dublin. Told me to keep it quiet, said Dad wouldn’t understand.”
“That sounds like a totally normal thing for an adult to ask a thirteen-year-old,” I said.
“Yeah, well, Malachy had just killed my mum, so I didn’t exactly have a lot of men to look up to, did I?” Kieran snapped.
The tension in the air thickened at Kieran's words. I felt a pang of sympathy for my brother-in-law, imagining the lonely, confused boy he must have been. Tristan's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and guilt.
"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," Kieran cut me off, his voice gruff. "It was a long time ago. The point is, Bellamy's been playing the long game. He's been positioning himself for years, waiting for the right moment to strike."
“Dad killed your mum?” Liam asked, his voice thin.
Tristan held up his hand. “That’s not really the point right now.”
“Wait. Did Dad kill my mum?”
Kieran cleared his throat. “I don’t know if now is really the time to talk about…”
“Yes, lad,” Tristan said. “Malachy killed them all.”
Liam's face drained of color, his usual bravado crumbling. "All of them? He killed all three of them? Why?”
“I don’t know. Because he could. Because it was easy,” Tristan said, rubbing his temple. “Because he was a cunt, like his brother.”
Liam stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock. I reached out to steady him, but he flinched away from my touch. The weight of this revelation hung heavy in the air, suffocating us all.
"Jesus Christ," Liam whispered, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I always knew Dad was a bastard, but this..."
Tristan's face was a mask of stone, but I could see the pain flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Liam. I should have told you sooner."
"Yeah, you fucking should have," Liam spat, anger replacing his initial shock. "How long have you known?"
“Don’t,” Kieran said. “You’re not stupid. We might have never told you, little brother, but you’ve always known.”
Liam's face crumpled, the anger draining away as quickly as it had come. "I guess I did," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Deep down, I always knew something wasn't right."
I felt my heart ache for him, for all of them. The weight of their family's dark legacy seemed to press down on us, suffocating in its intensity.
Liam slumped onto a nearby bench, his head in his hands. I wanted to comfort him, but I knew there were no words that could ease this kind of pain. Tristan put his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Malachy loved you,” he said.
Liam's head snapped up, his eyes blazing. "Loved me? He murdered my mother!"
"I know," Tristan said softly. "But in his twisted way, he did love you. He always had a soft spot for you."
I watched the emotions play across Liam's face - anger, confusion, grief. My heart ached for him, for the innocence he'd lost in mere moments.
"This changes everything," Liam muttered, more to himself than us.
“Liam, he murdered all our mums,” Kieran said. “This changes nothing.”
Liam's head snapped up, his eyes blazing. "Changes nothing? Are you fucking kidding me? Our father was a fucking monster!"
"Keep your voice down," I hissed, glancing nervously at the house. The last thing we needed was for my parents to overhear this conversation.
Kieran sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "What I mean is, Malachy was always a monster. Knowing the specifics doesn't change who he was or what we have to do now."
I stepped closer to Tristan, placing a hand on his shoulder. His muscles were coiled tight beneath my touch.
"We need to focus," I said, trying to redirect the conversation. "Bellamy is the immediate threat. What exactly does he want?"
Kieran ran a hand through his messy hair. "Power. Control. The whole fucking Callahan empire."
"And he thinks you're his way in?" I asked, eyeing Kieran warily.
He nodded, shame flashing across his face. "He's been grooming me for years. Thought I'd be easier to manipulate than Tristan."
"Fuck," Tristan muttered.
"I didn't know," Kieran said quickly. "Not at first. By the time I figured it out..."
“He was sending assassins to Delaware?” Tristan offered.
“No,” Kieran said. “But he is sharing all his plans with me. And I don’t want him to think that I’m not on side. If he suspects I've turned on him, we lose our advantage."
Tristan's jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the arms of his wheelchair. "So what exactly are his plans?"
Kieran took a deep breath, his eyes darting between us. "He wants to take out the heads of the other families. Create chaos, then step in as the savior. He’ll be head of the Callahans, it’ll go to me when he dies. He plans to make the entirety of Boston Callahan territory.”
“That’s not possible,” I said, my voice thin.
“Bellamy is ruthless, and he has no roots here. He can fuck off to Dublin whenever he wants. If this doesn’t go well, if he loses anyone, guess what? It doesn’t matter. Malachy was an absolute bastard, but he tried to keep us alive. To Bellamy, it doesn’t make much of a difference. And he's got people in place, ready to move on his command."
My blood ran cold. "The other families...you mean my father?"
Kieran nodded grimly. "Among others. He sees the Orsinis as the biggest threat to his takeover."
"Jesus Christ," Liam muttered, his face pale.
I felt sick to my stomach. The thought of losing my family, of my children growing up without their grandparents, was unbearable. I looked at Tristan, seeing my own fear reflected in his eyes.
“We have to tell him,” I said.
“Ade, maybe we shouldn’t involve your Dad in this.”
Too fucking late, I thought, as I made my way back to the living room.
And toward my dad.