Chapter Thirty-Two Tristan
Ididn’t like to admit it to myself, and I hadn’t given myself a lot of time to think about it, but I was worried.
The city lights blurred past my window as I drove through Boston’s streets, a silent witness to my growing unease. The leather steering wheel beneath my palms felt too smooth, too detached from the messy tangle of thoughts about Kieran’s risky parlay with Silvio. Old fishing docks had a way of harboring more than just boats—they were perfect for secrets to unfold or blood to spill.
What the fuck was he doing? And why did I feel the need to protect him when I couldn’t wrap my head around how he had betrayed me?
“Should I be there?” I muttered to myself, a nagging voice in the back of my mind insisting on attendance at The Crooked Thorn. It was tempting to charge into the fray, to stand shoulder to shoulder with Kieran, but what would that solve? My fingers drummed against the dashboard rhythmically, betraying my anxiety.
I let out a slow exhale, trying to quell the storm inside. Sean’s words echoed in my head, always the voice of reason. “You can’t show up to every fight, Tristan. You’re the boss, not a brawler.”
He was right. My presence would only escalate things, might even twist a knife in an already delicate situation. And I couldn’t just…stalk around, listen to what they were saying.
Pulling to the curb, I yanked the phone from my coat pocket and dialed quickly. “Sean, it’s me.”
“Boss,” came his immediate acknowledgment, brisk and no-nonsense as ever.
“Keep your eyes open at The Crooked Thorn tonight. I won’t be there.”
A beat. “Tristan, we need to talk.”
“I know, but I can’t tonight.”
“Understood. Anything else?”
“If Kieran is there, tell him…just tell him to play it smart.” My grip tightened on the phone, the weight of leadership squeezing the air from my chest.
“Always does,” Sean replied, his confidence in my brother a small comfort.
“Alright. Keep me posted.” Ending the call, I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and merged back into the flow of traffic. The early evening haze settled over Boston like a shroud, matching the heaviness in my heart.
Kieran could handle this. He had to. As for me, I’d do what I did best—keep us one step ahead, in the shadows where I belonged.
I steered my thoughts away from the looming threats and focused on a more immediate mission. Adriana. A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I parked outside the ice cream shop, its neon sign a beacon in the growing dusk. The bell above the door jingled as I stepped inside, and I was greeted by the familiar sweet scent of waffle cones and sugary delights.
“Triple chocolate, two scoops,” I ordered, the server’s eyebrows raised in recognition. It wasn’t my usual request, but Adriana’s. Her favorite. On impulse, I grabbed a bag of pretzel twists from the adjacent shelf—salty to balance the sweet, just how she liked it.
“Anything else for you?” the server asked as he handed over the cone, already starting to melt around the edges.
“That’ll do it.” I paid with cash, leaving a generous tip before striding back to the car.
The drive to the safehouse apartment was quick, the streets quieter than usual. Every red light seemed to last an eternity, every turn felt too slow. When I finally pulled into the nondescript parking garage and killed the engine, the silence was deafening. I gathered the ice cream and snacks, my heart thudding against my ribs as I made my way to the apartment.
Adriana was there, her silhouette framed by the dim glow of a single lamp. She turned as I entered, her face softening when she saw what I’d brought. Her hair was wet and she was only wearing her underwear.
“You remembered,” she said quietly.
“Of course, I did.” My voice sounded rougher than I intended as I handed her the cone and watched her take the first, careful lick. The sight was such a stark reminder of normalcy that it momentarily stunned me.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her hand coming up to rest against my cheek. Her touch was grounding, pulling me back from the edge of a precipice I’d been toeing all day.
“Better now,” I admitted, though the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. I had returned to her, yes, but danger still danced on the horizon, waiting for an invitation to strike.
“You didn’t get any ice cream for yourself?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t that hungry.”
“You weren’t?” she asked, licking her ice cream. “Well, thank you for this.”
“Adriana, we’ve got a situation,” I began, my tone grave as I pulled away just enough to look her in the eye. “The cops are onto us. Surveillance has picked up around the safehouse. We can’t stay here.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was always cautious, her mind dissecting every angle before committing to action—a trait that had kept us both alive on more than one occasion.
“Tristan, are you sure?” she pushed back, her skepticism lining her words like steel. “I mean, it could be routine. Kieran would’ve tipped us if things were heating up.”
“How can you trust him after–after everything?”
“Well, he’s kept you alive so far, hasn’t he?” she said matter-of-factly.
“Kieran’s good,” I conceded, “but he’s not infallible. I don’t want to gamble with your life.” I watched her absorb this, her face an unreadable mask.
“Moving again is risky. It draws attention,” she countered practically, her voice steady even as I saw the faintest flicker of unease in her gaze. “How certain are you?”
“Dead certain.” I stepped back, running a hand through my hair. I hated the anxiety bubbling up in her, but I wasn’t about to let my guard down, not when our lives were on the line.
“Trust me, I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure.” I tried to keep my voice level, to reassure her without letting on how much I was wrestling with my own demons. “We need to disappear for a while, lay low until we figure out our next move.”
She sighed, the weight of the world seemingly resting on her shoulders. “It feels like we’re always running.”
“Maybe so,” I said, “but it’s better than the alternative. I promised I’d keep you safe, Adriana. That means doing whatever it takes.”
Her silence filled the room, heavy and thick. Finally, she nodded, her decision made. “Okay, Tristan. Let’s do it your way. But if we’re jumping at shadows—“
“We’re not,” I interjected quickly, though I appreciated her need for reassurance. Turning away to hide the concern etching my features, I started gathering what few belongings we couldn’t leave behind.
As we left the dim warmth of the apartment, the cool evening air hit us like a sobering slap. The streets of Boston loomed large and foreboding, but our steps were purposeful. With each stride, I felt the familiar resolve settle over us. Whatever lay ahead, at least for now it felt like we’d face it side by side.
“Tristan,” Adriana started, her voice breaking the silence between us as we navigated through the early evening shadows of Boston’s streets. “Where are we headed?”
“Somewhere safe,” I assured her, my hand finding hers, squeezing it tight. I needed her to believe, to trust me. “Somewhere you’ll like. But we need to keep moving.”
“Always moving,” she murmured, almost to herself.
“Adriana,” I stopped, turning to face her. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to stand still. I spoke with urgency, trying to infuse every word with the determination I felt burning inside me. “I know this isn’t the life we dreamed of, but I swear to you, I’m doing everything I can to make things right. Kieran’s playing a dangerous game, and we can’t afford to be pawns in his strategy.”
“Are you–”
“Yes, I’m sure,” I said, getting annoyed.
“Alright, jeez. Got it.”
We moved quickly then, our strides synchronized as we made our way to the car parked discreetly down the street. As I slipped into the driver’s seat and Adriana settled beside me, I took one last look at the rearview mirror, scanning for any signs of pursuit.
Nothing.
“Next stop, a new beginning,” I said, putting the car in gear. The engine roared to life, a low growl that filled the quiet street.
“Next stop,” Adriana repeated, her voice steadier now.
With that, I pressed down on the gas, and we sped away from the life we knew, racing toward an uncertain future that I was hellbent on shaping into something worth fighting for.
As I maneuvered the sleek black car through the tangled veins of Boston’s streets, Adriana rummaged through the paper bag between us, her fingers closing around the ice cream I’d grabbed for her. A small victory in a day fraught with tension.
“I brought the spoon, right?” she asked, kicking off her high heels and tucking her feet beneath her.
I passed it to her, my eyes never leaving the road. “Just don’t get any on the leather,”
She scoffed, scooping up a generous amount. “Please, like your driving hasn’t already tested this car’s interior. You better not pull another high-speed chase like last time. I want to enjoy my ice cream.”
I chuckled, but the sound was short-lived. The possibility that we were being tailed still gnawed at the back of my mind. My laughter faded into the hum of the engine as I checked the mirrors again, my gaze sharp.
“Relax, Ade,” I reassured her, though I kept my vigilance. “We’re clear... for now.”
The city lights blinked past us, casting shadows over Adriana’s face as she indulged in her small treat. She looked over at me, her lips curved in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Tristan,” she started, her tone serious despite the chocolate smeared at the corner of her mouth. “What happens next? I mean, really happens? We can’t keep dodging bullets forever.”
I took a deep breath, the weight of leadership pressing down on me. “We make our own path, away from all this chaos. It won’t be easy, but I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Even if it means defying your family?” Her question lingered in the air, thick with implication.
“Even then.” I reached over and wiped the stray chocolate from her face with my thumb. “You’re my family too, Adriana. And I don’t plan on losing you.”
“If you don’t want to lose me, you might need to start letting me in.”
I sighed. “Yeah, Ade,” I said. “I know.”