23. Chapter Twenty-Three Tristan
The silence was a heavy blanket, smothering the room. I lay there on my back, staring at the ceiling of the house on stilts. Now that we’d finished having incredible sex and Adriana was putting her clothes on next to me, I realized there was something I should have done before any of this.
“You have other clothes?” I asked as I looked down at the wet silk gown, even though she clearly did.
“Yeah. I guess my Dad must have left some here.”
“Right. Nice of him.”
She raised her eyebrows, saying nothing.
My phone, on Do Not Disturb, mocked me from the pocket of my jeans tossed carelessly on the floor. I reached over, plucking it out, and the missed calls lit up the screen like a Christmas tree—too many from Kieran, a couple from Carmen. A twist of guilt gnawed at me, but my focus was on Adriana, sitting on the edge of the bed, her movements steady as she dressed.
“Damn,” I muttered to myself, thumbing off the DND setting. Adriana’s eyes met mine, sharp and questioning, but I only offered her a rueful half-smile before hitting Kieran’s number. There was no avoiding the conversation now.
“Tristan? Are you okay?” Kieran’s voice crackled through the speaker, laced with frustration and concern.
“Safe,” I said curtly. “Adriana’s here. She’s alive.”
“Alive?” He paused, his relief palpable even through the static. “And unharmed?”
“Seems so.” I glanced at Adriana, who was smoothing down her shirt over her baby bump—a simple motion that somehow spoke volumes about her resilience. “But we’ve got another problem. This storm’s done its worst, and now we’re stuck in this damn beach house. Can’t exactly scale down the stilts with her in tow. I don’t want to risk her safety or the twins’.”
“Then get her out the normal way, Tristan. What’s stopping you?”
I scowled as I remembered the wrought iron fence guarding the stairs, its presence an unwelcome reminder of our captivity. “Thinking about dragging her downstairs and kicking that fence in so we can leave. It’s either that or we sit here waiting for the ocean to take us.”
“Kick it in, then,” he said, his tone all business now. “And fast. You don’t know how long you’ve got before Silvio comes looking for her.”
“Right.” I almost ended the call, my mind already racing through the motions of escape. Adriana watched me, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and uncertainty. But there was no time for hesitation. We had to move—and move now.
“Wait,” Kieran said. “On second thought, don’t kick it down. You might not be able to and it’s daylight. I wouldn’t be surprised if Orsini has eyes everywhere. You might have gotten away with it because you did something insane by going up the cliffside, but there are probably cameras pointed right at those stairs.”
My hand tightened around the phone as a curse left my lips, softer than the sigh of the wind outside. Adriana was silent beside me, her gaze locked on the horizon where the storm had raged just hours before. The idea of Silvio Orsini’s men out there, waiting for us to make a move, set an edge of annoyance in my chest.
“Then what? We sit here like ducks waiting for the hunt?” I shot back, pacing across the worn floorboards.
“Tristan, think. If Silvio comes back—“
“Maybe we wait for him,” I interrupted, an idea forming like a spark ready to ignite. “Wait for Silvio to waltz back in here so I can put a bullet between his eyes. Then we walk out free.”
Adriana’s sharp intake of breath drew my attention. Her dark eyes met mine, a tumult of conflict swirling within them. “No,” she said, her voice carrying a weight that tugged at something inside of me. “You can’t kill him. He’s my father. Despite...everything...I love him. If he took me, it’s because he’s got no other choice.”
I could see the struggle in her, the clash of loyalty and fear battling in her expression. A part of me wanted to lash out against her naivety. It was so odd because of how she’d been raised, and yet it was one of my favorite things about her, this drive to give people the benefit of the doubt no matter what; another part of me, strangely protective, wanted to shield her from the harsh realities of our world. But neither side would help us escape this precarious perch above the churning sea.
“Your dad or not, Adriana, we can’t stay here.” My voice softened without permission. “We need a way out. You understand?”
She nodded, her resolve hardening once more, and I turned away to hide the conflict raging within me. Kieran remained silent on the other end of the line, and I knew we were running out of time. With every tick of the clock, Silvio’s return loomed closer.
“Alright, Kieran,” I said, gripping the phone tighter. “We need a plan—and fast. Ade, finish getting ready.”
The room felt like a cage made of old wood and salt air. She was putting on her slippers, it was better than going out in the cold barefoot. Her words about Silvio echoed in my head, gnawing at me. Love for family—it was something deep, twisted up with duty and blood. I couldn’t fault her for it, but damn if it didn’t make this mess thicker.
“Tristan?” Her voice yanked me back to the now.
“Right.” I shook off the unease. “We’ve got to move.”
I had no idea when Silvio would show his face, but the thought of him walking through that door had my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs. We needed a way out, and we needed it yesterday.
“Kieran,” I barked into the phone, pacing by the window where the sea stretched out calm after the storm—deceptive peace. “It’s time to shake things up. Rig an explosive on the gate. If we’re going to be seen, let’s make it damn unforgettable.”
“Explosives, Tristan? That’s your plan?” Kieran’s voice crackled with static and skepticism.
“Got a better one?” I shot back, peering through the slats in the blinds. Nothing yet, but that meant nothing.
“Fine,” he relented after a beat. “But if this goes south, it’s on you.”
“Everything’s on me, lad,” I muttered, quickly ending the call. Adriana was watching me, eyes sharp as daggers; she didn’t need to say it—I knew she was judging every call I made.
“Listen,” I said, softer now, “your dad... If there’s another way, I’ll find it. But right now, it’s us or them.”
“Us,” she whispered, and there was steel in that single word. It wasn’t a choice any of us wanted, but it was the one we had to make.
“Us,” I agreed, and waited for the world outside to explode into chaos.
It didn’t take long. Kieran came prepared, just as he always did, and we only had to wait a few more minutes before we heard the explosion outside.
Adriana and I, we were on our feet in an instant, the force of the blast rattling through us like a promise of violence yet to come.
“Move!” My voice was sharp, a blade slicing through the haze of danger. We bolted for the stairs, the structure groaning under the stress as if it too yearned for escape. I could feel the tension coiled in Adriana’s frame, her determination matching my own step for desperate step.
The wrought iron gate that once barred our way laid twisted and smoldering, remnants of Kieran’s handiwork. I didn’t allow myself a moment to admire the destruction; there was no time for that. Every second counted, every breath was borrowed time.
We descended, the chill of the winter air biting at our exposed skin, a reminder that this was Boston, not some tropical hideaway where sins could be washed away with the tide. The planks beneath us creaked in protest, but held their ground, offering us a treacherous path to what we hoped would be freedom.
I reached the bottom first, my hand instinctively reaching back for Adriana’s. Her fingers slipped into mine, sweaty, cold, clammy. She was scared. We dashed across the sand, hearts thundering in unison against the cage of ribs that struggled to contain them.
But the hope that had surged within me, fueling my muscles and clouding my judgment, shattered as swiftly as it had bloomed. They were waiting for us—Silvio’s men—like wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing, their guns a grim punctuation to the serene midday scene around us.
“Damn,” I hissed, feeling Adriana tense beside me. There was no mistaking the cold intent in their eyes, no doubting the orders they’d been given. Silvio’s command ran deep, and these men were his loyal instruments of enforcement.
Maybe my dad had been right. Maybe, by backing off from the engagement that night, I had signed a death warrant for all the Callahans.”
“Callahan?” The one in front, a bulky guy with a jaw like concrete, stepped forward. He didn’t need to ask me, of course he knew who I was. His voice was a low rumble, devoid of warmth or welcome. “You’re coming with us.”
Chapter Twenty-One: Adriana
“You heard me, Tristan,” Vinny’s voice boomed, his heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor. “You’re coming with me.”
I knew this man. I’d seen him during countless business deals with my dad. Now he stood there, bigger than Tristan, looking at him as if he was nothing.
I moved instinctively, placing myself between them. “Wait!” My voice was fierce, protective. “He’s with me. I’m an Orsini, remember?”
Vinny’s dark eyes flickered to mine, cold and unyielding. “Of course I remember. But orders are orders,” he grunted, dismissing me with a look. “And you ain’t the boss, Adriana. Your father is.”
Panic clawed at my throat, but I swallowed it down. “Please, Vinny,” I begged, my voice dropping as I tried to reason with him. “Don’t do this. You don’t have to…”
Vinny’s expression softened for a second, but Tristan wasn’t waiting for negotiations. With a swift movement born from years of surviving in the shadows, he lunged at Vinny.
“Tristan, no!” I cried out, my heart pounding as their bodies collided with a sickening thud. I watched, frozen, as they grappled with each other, the sound of fists meeting flesh as they fell on the cold, wet asphalt. I wanted to tear them apart, to scream until they stopped, but fear for the tiny lives inside me rooted me to the spot.
“Stop, please!” My plea was drowned by the violence before me. Tristan’s face was set, his blue eyes blazing with a determination that matched Vinny’s own relentless force. They were two titans locked in a battle that I couldn’t bear to see.
“Ade,” Tristan grunted, ducking a punch. “Stay back.”
Every instinct screamed at me to intervene, but I couldn’t risk it. Instead, I stood helpless, my hands trembling as I clutched my belly, praying for it to end without more bloodshed.
“Enough!” I shouted again, but neither man heard me over the roar of their own combat. I felt tears welling up, blurring my vision, as I realized that this world of power and control had no place for mercy.
Tristan ducked another punch as they went to the ground again. The struggle seemed to stretch on forever, a nightmarish dance of violence that blurred before my eyes. Then, with a suddenness that made my heart lurch, Tristan’s hand shot out lightning-quick, seizing the gun from Vinny’s breast pocket as if he’d known it was there all along.
“Ade, look away!” he barked, just as the gun roared and Vinny’s body went limp while the gunshot sounded out. A spray of red mist filled the air, and I turned away too late, bile rising in my throat. The sound of Vinny’s body crumpling to the ground was a dull thud against the roaring in my ears.
“Adriana! At me! Look at me!”
I forced my gaze up, meeting Tristan’s piercing blue eyes. They were cold now, the warmth I’d seen in them so many times before replaced by the hard glint of necessity. He scanned the area quickly, annoyance etched across his features. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
My heart still hammering in my chest, I told myself to get a grip.
“Tristan, we need to leave,” I managed to say, my voice quivering. “The police—“
“I know,” he cut in sharply. “The cops will be here any minute because of the explosion. We can’t be here when they arrive.”
My legs felt like jelly, but I followed his lead. Behind us, the beach stretched wide and desolate under the dimming sky. The tide was going out, the waves dragging back toward the horizon like reluctant witnesses fleeing the scene.
“Help me with this,” Tristan said, nodding toward Vinny’s lifeless body. It wasn’t a request.
“Tristan, I—“ My protest died on my lips as I saw the resolve in his eyes. This man, who I thought I knew, was showing me the depth of his world—a world where disposing of a body was just another inconvenience.
“Ade, please.” His voice softened for a moment, and I saw a flicker of the man I cared for. But it vanished as quickly as it came. “You’ve done this before. You can do it again.”
“Okay,” I whispered, steeling myself against the nausea that threatened to overcome me. Together, we dragged Vinny’s body away from the sidewalk and toward the water. His body left a mark across the sand, moving with an urgency driven by the knowledge that time was our enemy now. The wet sand clung to my slippers, heavy and accusing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that with each step, we got closer and closer to being found out.
It was weird–I knew this man, I hadn’t wanted him to die. And dragging his body felt…horrible. Nauseating. Necessary, sure. But I hated it.
“Into the water,” he instructed, his voice barely audible over the sound of the surf. “It has to look like he drowned.”
I barely had time to register his words as the cold water lapping at my ankles when Kieran’s voice cut through the night. “Tristan, you need a hand?”
“Kieran,” Tristan acknowledged with a curt nod, his gaze never leaving the dark waters where Vinny’s body was now adrift. “Handle this, will you? We have to leave before Silvio sends more of his men to clean up his mess.”
“Of course,” Kieran replied, his tone as dark as the ocean before us. “I can manage here. You two get going.”
Relief washed over me like a warm tide. I wasn’t sure if I could stomach any more of this grisly task, and the thought of Kieran taking over was a strange comfort. He was part of this world, capable of things that would haunt me for the rest of my days.
“Thanks, Kieran,” I murmured, but he didn’t seem to hear me, already focused on what needed to be done.
“Let’s go, Ade,” Tristan said firmly, reaching for my hand and pulling me away from the scene. His touch sent an unexpected jolt through me.
“Kieran, I’ll send a car for you,” Tristan called over his shoulder as we made our way back to where the car was parked.
“Make it quick,” Kieran shot back, his silhouette blending into the darkness as he began his solitary work. “I’m counting on it.”
Tristan’s grip tightened around my hand, and I felt the silent promise in his touch. He would do whatever it took to protect his brother, just as he would do anything to keep me safe. It was a dangerous bond that tied us all together, but in that moment, there was a fierce loyalty that I couldn’t deny.
“You okay?” Tristan asked me when we reached his car, then shook his head. “I mean, physically.”
“I’m unharmed. Traumatized, but unharmed.”
He smiled a little. “Good. We need to get back to the estate.”
“Tristan, I can’t—I just want to go home,” I begged, the weight of the night’s events pressing down on me. I couldn’t face the austere walls of the Callahan estate, not after what had just transpired.
He hesitated, searching my face for something—perhaps for the strength he always seemed to think I had. But that day, all I felt was vulnerability and a desperate need to escape.
“Okay,” he said, starting the engine. “Where do you want to go?”
I didn’t answer him, but we knew we had to get the fuck out of there, so when he started the car and drove around aimlessly, I couldn’t help but be grateful.
I stole a glance at Tristan, noticing how his hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. He was always so composed, but now I could sense the tension in his broad shoulders, the way he seemed to hold his breath. It was as if he was bracing for impact, expecting me to shatter.
“Tristan,” I whispered, my voice breaking the silence like thin ice. “Your jacket...”
He didn’t look at me, but I saw him glance down briefly, his jaw tightening when he spotted the blood that had smeared across the leather.
“It’s not mine,” he said. “It’s Kieran. He knows how to take blood off leather,” he said matter-of-factly.
“What?” I asked. I mean, it made perfect sense, my brain just refused to process that it was a thing Tristan and Kieran would simply know off the top of their heads.
The sight of it made my heart clench, and suddenly, the floodgates opened, tears spilling over and streaming down my face.
“What do you mean…” he turned to look at me and his sentence died in his mouth. “Ade.”
“My apartment,” I said between sobs. “I want to go back to my apartment.”
“Okay,” he replied.
I could tell he wanted to reach out, to comfort me, but his responsibility to protect both of us kept his hands firmly on the wheel.
“Keep driving,” I managed to say between sobs. “Please.”
We didn’t speak again until we reached the familiar street of my apartment building. The place I once thought of as a simple, secure home now felt like a sanctuary after the chaos of the evening. As we pulled up outside, I wiped away my tears, trying to steel myself for whatever would come next.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Tristan asked, his blue eyes scanning the area with a vigilance I knew all too well.
“No place feels truly safe anymore,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. But here, at least, there were no expectations, no roles to play—just me and the remnants of a life I was still trying to hold onto.
“Okay,” he said, and though I heard the reluctance in his voice, he turned off the car and stepped out to open my door. As I followed him into the building, I couldn’t help but feel that strange mix of fear and reassurance that seemed to follow whenever Tristan was near.
He led me through the corridor, his broad shoulders a silent promise against the shadows that seemed to loom from every corner. The sound of our footsteps echoed off the walls, the only noise in the otherwise quiet building. When we reached my door, I reached under the buddha sconce and grabbed my spare set of keys. I fumbled with them, my hands still trembling from the events of the night.
“Here, let me.” Tristan’s voice was soft as he took the keys from me, his fingers brushing against mine in the process. The door clicked open, and he gestured for me to enter first.
The apartment was dark. He followed me inside,I followed him inside, closing the door behind us with a soft click. “Stay here” Tristian said firmly. The apartment was dark and the air felt heavy. He flicked on the lights while going through the apartment checking every room.
After clearing the apartment Tristian came back to get me from the front door. “Sit down,” he said, guiding me to the small couch in my living room. “I’ll make you some tea.”
I watched him move into the kitchen, an oddly domestic sight—Tristan Callahan, heir apparent to a crime dynasty, boiling water for tea. It was moments like these that reminded me there was more to him than the rumors and the responsibilities he carried on his shoulders.
“Green okay?” he asked, peeking his head around the corner.
“Perfect,” I replied, trying to muster a smile.
A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming cup, the scent of green tea filling the room. I wrapped my hands around the mug, the warmth seeping into my skin, but it did little to stop the shaking.
“Ade,” Tristan said, his tone gentle, “talk to me. What’s wrong?”
I stared at him.
“Okay, right, but…but right now. What’s wrong, love?”
I opened my mouth to answer him, but the concern in his eyes was my undoing. All the fear, the uncertainty, the weight of my decisions—it all came crashing down on me. And there, in the safety of my own home, with Tristan watching over me, I allowed myself to break. The sobs shook my body, tears streaming down my face as I tried to articulate the storm within me, but no words came out.
“Shhh,” he soothed, sitting down next to me and pulling me into his embrace. His touch was tentative at first, as if he were afraid I might shatter completely, but when I didn’t pull away, he held me tighter. He couldn’t tell me it was going to be okay, it was probably not going to be okay, it would never be okay.
But I was safe in his arms, and there, I cried for everything that had happened, for everything that could never be. Just a moment, despite the danger, despite the chaos of our lives, I let myself believe that everything would be okay.
Until I pulled away from Tristan and looked into his blue eyes. “You were right,” I said.
His brow furrowed. “About what?”
“About killing my dad,” I replied. “You need to kill him. Because if you don’t, he’s going to kill you first.”