Chapter Forty Tristan
Iwas pretty sure my brother was going to shoot me.
Leaning heavily on Adriana, I felt her arm tense under my weight as Kieran’s unflinching gaze stared us down, the barrel of his gun an unwelcome addition to the scene. The cool Boston air did nothing to ease the heat that flared within me—a mix of anger and a dread I couldn’t shake.
“Kieran,” I rasped out, disbelief sharpening my voice into something harsher than intended. “What the fuck are you doing?”
His eyes, dark mirrors reflecting none of their usual warmth, met mine. “You don’t understand, Tristan,” he said quietly, his tone steady despite the chaos he was causing. “I did everything I could...to protect you.”
The words hung heavy between us, a promise or a curse—I couldn’t tell which. Fear gnawed at my insides, fear for myself and for Adriana, whose breaths I could feel quickening against my side. But before another word could claw its way out of my throat, the moment shattered.
“Kieran! Why the hell haven’t you pulled the trigger yet?” Ronan burst through from the parking lot,, his voice slicing through the early evening calm with the sharpness of broken glass. His face twisted in desperation and fury, he stalked toward us, his every step echoing betrayal.
“Tristan, you have to believe me,” Kieran’s voice held an edge of urgency as he addressed me without taking his eyes off Ronan. “There’s more at stake here than—“
“Shut up!” Ronan bellowed, his hand twitching towards the gun holstered at his side.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Memories crashed over me like a relentless tide—my father Malachy’s cold, ruthless hands; my mother Catherine’s lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling of our grandiose family home; whispers and doubts about whether the blood that ran through Kieran’s veins was the same as mine.
“Kieran, please,” I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability I despised bled through, raw and unguarded. “Don’t do this.”
Time slowed, seconds stretching into eternity. Kieran’s expression remained unreadable—a mask carved from years of navigating the treacherous underworld we were born into. Then, in a move so swift it blurred before my eyes, Kieran pivoted, his arm extending in one fluid motion.
The gunshot rang out, a solitary crack that broke the silence and echoed down the empty streets of Boston. My ears rang. I flinched, expecting pain, expecting darkness. But when I opened my eyes, Ronan was the one collapsing to the ground, a red bloom spreading across his forehead.
“Run,” Kieran breathed, his gaze snapping back to me. In his eyes, I saw not malice but an intense resolve.
I fully intended to do that. But then my legs gave out, the strength I’d been clinging to evaporating like mist in the morning sun. Kieran caught me before I hit the ground, his arms steadying my broad frame as though it weighed nothing.
“Tristan, come on,” he grunted, and with an effort that betrayed his lean build, he half-dragged, half-carried me to the waiting car. Each movement was agony.
“Get him out of here, Adriana,” Kieran said, his voice cutting through the haze in my mind. “Now.”
“Wait, what about you?” I asked.
Kieran shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. Just get as far from all this shit as you can.”
Adriana was there then, her dark hair whipping around her face as she moved to take my weight from Kieran. Her hands, usually so steady, trembled as they worked to ease me into the passenger seat.
“Talk to me, Tristan,” she implored, buckling the seatbelt over me with shaking fingers. “Stay with me.”
“Adriana,” I murmured, struggling to focus on her face. The world was tilting on its axis, and all I could think of was her and the twins she carried—our future, so fragile in this moment.
“Drive. Please.” My voice was a hoarse whisper, the words laced with more fear than I cared to admit. I couldn’t afford to lose her; not her, not our babies, not now.
She nodded, her eyes—a deep well of resolve—locking onto mine for a heartbeat before she slipped into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and we peeled away from the curb, leaving behind the catacombs of Boston and the life I knew.
“Keep talking, Tristan,” she said again, her voice steady despite the clear panic I saw dancing in her gaze. It was her strength, her unwavering determination, that kept the darkness at bay, that whispered promises of safety and love even as my world went black.
The city lights blurred into streaks as we raced away from everything I had ever known. “I thought Kieran would...you know.” I couldn’t finish the sentence, the admission lodging like a bullet in my throat. My own brother, whose loyalty I’d questioned, might have been my silent guardian after all.
“Kieran?” she prompted gently, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror before settling on the road ahead.
“Maybe he’s been protecting me. It’s hard to believe, but—“ A shudder ran through me. “I’ve been wrong about him.”
“Tristan, this changes nothing.” She reached over, her hand finding mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re in this together. You’re safe with me.”
“Adriana, your hand is shaking.” I squeezed back, trying to pour whatever strength I had left into her.
“Focus on us, okay?” She gave me a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “We need to get you some help. A hospital—“
“No hospitals.” The words came out firmer than I felt. “They’ll be watching. We can’t risk it.”
“Okay, no hospitals,” she acquiesced, though her brow furrowed with worry. “We’ll figure something out. Just rest for now.”
Rest. As if such a thing were possible when every nerve ending screamed in protest, and the future was a gaping abyss that threatened to swallow us whole.
“Delaware,” I murmured, my voice a husky whisper as I fought against the pain. “We should’ve stayed in Delaware.”
“Tristan, you need help now.” Adriana’s tone was laced with urgency, her grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled.
“Delaware is where we should have been all along,” I insisted, my words slurring slightly as my body waged its silent war against the creeping numbness. “None of this—none of it would’ve happened if we hadn’t come back to Boston.”
She glanced at me, her eyes reflecting the streetlights that flashed by in a steady rhythm. “Alright, Delaware. Hold on for me, Tristan. Just hold on.”
The darkness outside mirrored the one closing in on me. I could feel parts of my body starting to fade, a terrifying numbness spreading from my toes up through my legs. I reached into the glovebox, fingers fumbling until they closed around the bottle of hardcore medication the doctor had prescribed earlier—pills meant to stave off the worst of the pain from the gunshot wound that still throbbed angrily beneath my blood-stained shirt.
“Here,” I said, dry-swallowing a couple of pills. “These should help.”
“Tristan, be careful with those,” she warned, but there was no time for caution. The only thing that mattered now was making it through each excruciating moment.
“Keep talking to me,” I urged between shallow breaths. “Tell me about the twins. Did we decide on names?”
“I do like Callum,” she said. “Callum and Catherine, that’s nice, right?”
“Callum and Catherine Callahan,” I replied. “Kind of sounds like a fancy law firm.”
“Maybe they’ll be lawyers,” Adriana said.
“Yeah, big family legacy of lawyers,” I said, laughing dryly.
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” She reached over, running her hand through my hair in a soothing motion. “I think you’re going to make an incredible father. You just need to stay with me, okay?”
“Thanks, Ade.” A ghost of a smile crossed my lips as I leaned back against the seat, letting the medicine pull me under.
The darkness welcomed me like an old friend, offering a reprieve from the pain and the relentless march of my thoughts. I clung to it, letting the uneasy sleep wrap around me until the gentle hum of the car engine and Adriana’s occasional murmurs faded into silence.
I woke to the soft patter of rain against windowpanes, the early morning light barely making a dent in the gloom of the safehouse’s interior. I blinked slowly, trying to orient myself in the stillness that was so at odds with the chaos we had left behind. Delaware’s quiet suburbia felt like another world compared to the fraught battlegrounds of The Callahan Domain.
“Tristan.” Adriana’s voice cut through the haze, her tone laced with worry. I turned to see her leaning over me, her short dark hair framing her face in a way that made her keen observation skills seem almost palpable.
I smiled at her. She was okay, the twins were okay–I didn’t know how long she had driven for, but it didn’t matter.
“Are you okay?” she asked, searching my face for signs of consciousness.
“Ah—“ I began, nodding. But as I attempted to shift my body in response, a jolt of panic struck me. There was no familiar tingling of pins and needles, no discomfort from lying in one position for too long. There was nothing.
“Tristan, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, love,” I said, trying my best to stave off the panic blooming in my chest.
“Doesn’t look like nothing?”
I sighed. “I think I’m okay. I just...I just can’t feel my legs.”