26. Chapter Twenty-Six Adriana
We tabled the murder talk for later.
The night had a quiet kind of sacredness to it, the apartment filled with shadows and the rhythmic sound of Tristan’s breathing. It was one of those rare moments where time seemed to halt, allowing us to forget the chaos that trailed our lives like a relentless shadow. I lay there, nestled against his warm chest, feeling the rise and fall as he cradled my burgeoning belly with a gentleness that belied the strength in his hands.
“Tristan,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper as dawn painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange. He stirred beside me, his blue eyes fluttering open, meeting mine with a sleepy sort of intensity.
“Morning, love,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer, as if he could shield me and our unborn children from the world with just his touch.
“Have you thought about what’ll happen when they’re here?” I asked, my fingers tracing patterns over his arm. The reality of motherhood, of bringing new life into our complicated existence, felt overwhelming and yet oddly comforting.
He shifted slightly to face me better, his eyes scanning my face with all the attentiveness of a man who thrived on details. “I have, every day,” he admitted. “It’s going to be...different. Challenging, even. But I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” I confessed, though I couldn’t help the ripple of anxiety that coursed through me. “I always wanted kids, you know? Just never expected it all to happen so quickly.” My hand instinctively went to the swell of my stomach, the future we created together stirring within me.
“Names,” Tristan said suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “We need to think about names.”
A smile found its way onto my lips despite the nerves. “Any ideas?”
He paused, his gaze softening. “For our girl...What do you think about Catherine?” His voice held a note of vulnerability. “To honor my mum.”
The suggestion warmed me more than any blanket could. “Catherine,” I repeated, letting the name roll off my tongue. “It sounds lovely.”
His hand came to rest on my cheek, thumb brushing away an errant lock of hair. “You think so?”
“Absolutely.” I leaned into his touch, reveling in the simple comfort it brought.
For a long moment, we stayed like that, wrapped up in each other and the quiet anticipation of the future. I could feel his breath on my skin, the steady beat of his heart against mine, and something like peace settled over me.
“Your smell,” he said unexpectedly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I like it. It’s... calming.”
“Even now?” I joked lightly, acutely aware of how pregnancy had heightened my senses, made me more conscious of the scents and spaces around me.
“Especially now,” he confirmed, tightening his hold on me once more. And in the shelter of his arms, with the light of a new day creeping in, I believed for a moment that everything might just turn out okay.
The calm was shattered by a sudden jolt inside me, a flutter that caught my breath. “Tristan,” I gasped, grabbing his hand and pressing it firmly against the curve of my belly. “Did you feel that?”
His eyes widened, a mix of astonishment and joy lighting them up as he felt the movement under his palm. “They’re kicking?”
“Seems like it,” I laughed, the sound bubbling up through the surprise. The twins had chosen this moment to make their presence known.
“Which one do you think it is?” Tristan asked, his voice tinged with wonder.
“Probably both,” I said, smiling at the thought of our children already showing their feisty spirits. “It must be getting cramped in there.”
“Imagine sharing a room with someone constantly poking you,” he mused, the corners of his mouth twitching into an amused grin.
“Sounds like every family gathering at the Callahans’,” I teased, and we shared a light laugh, the sound mingling with the soft morning light that filled the room.
The laughter faded into a comfortable silence, and Tristan’s expression shifted into something more contemplative, his thumb caressing the skin of my abdomen in thoughtful circles. He checked in with me, his concern evident even as he tried to keep the mood light. “You know, Dr. Hawthorne mentioned you need to stay relaxed with everything going on.”
“Relaxed,” I echoed, the word feeling foreign on my lips. “With everything that’s happened, it’s been hard to find a moment of true calm.”
“I know,” he said softly, his blue eyes searching mine. “But whatever comes, we’ll face it together. For them,” he added, nodding toward my belly.
“Sometimes ‘together’ feels like a tall order when your world is a never-ending storm,” I admitted, resting my head against his chest, seeking the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Then we’ll be the eye of that storm.” Tristan’s voice was firm, resolute, as if he could will the chaos away with sheer determination. “For Catherine, for her brother, for us.”
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to lean on him, to believe in his promise, even if just for this quiet moment before the world rushed back in.
It didn’t take me long to come back down to reality.
I should’ve been used to the clangor of violence by now, but the sharp report of a gunshot still reverberated in my ears. Tristan had pulled the trigger, and Vinny... Vinny was no more. The image clung to me like a second skin, a constant reminder of the life I was entangled in.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Vinny,” I said. “I grew up around him.”
“Ade,” he said, his voice low and steady, “I’m sorry you had to see that. I truly am.”
My breath trembled as I fought back the chaos swirling within. I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper, “I understand why it happened. Vinny came for you, and it was him or us—but that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.”
His hand found mine, fingers lacing with a tenderness that belied the strength within them. He didn’t speak, but his grip spoke volumes. It was an apology; it was reassurance. It was everything.
“My dad won’t stop, you know,” I said, breaking the silence that had settled between us. My statement was a fact, plain and simple. “He’ll send others after us.”
Tristan’s jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching with the tension of truths unspoken. “I’m aware.” He paused, his gaze distant, as if he was viewing a complex puzzle only he could piece together. “There’s a lot we still need to untangle, Adriana.”
“Deeper how?” My heart raced at the thought. There were layers to this, layers we hadn’t peeled back yet. And every layer brought us closer to danger, to betrayal, to potential ruin.
“Let’s just say that the roots of betrayal may be closer to home than we’d like to admit,” Tristan replied cryptically. “We’ll figure it out, though. We have to, because if we don’t...” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to.
“What does that mean?” I asked, going to stand.
Tristan sat up and turned away, running a hand through his short-cropped hair.
“There’s a rat in the Callahan operation we’ve been trying to flush out,” he said, his voice low and lethal. “It’s Killian.”
My breath caught in my throat. Killian – not just an underling, but one of Tristan’s most trusted friends. The idea twisted in my gut like a knife. “Killian? But—isn’t he your ride or die?”
“I thought the same,” Tristan interrupted, his words sharp as shattered glass. “But when I was about to lay into him, Kieran told me to back off.” He paced the room, the movement predatory, a lion caged by his own doubts. “I suspect Killian might be taking orders from Silvio Orsini.”
“Silvio?” The name fell from my lips, heavy with the weight of blood ties and betrayal. My own father, a man who had once cradled me in his arms, now orchestrating this chaos from the shadows.
Tristan nodded, his shoulders set like concrete. “It’s all too neat, Adriana. Your father’s sudden move against me, Carmen’s suspicious activities—“
“Wait.” I raised a hand, trying to piece together the fragmented puzzle he laid out before me. “Carmen? My sister is involved in this?”
He hesitated, then nodded again, his expression grim. “Yes, remember? You found discrepancies in the accounts. Funds that should have been there, gone. It looked like embezzling. Only Carmen had access. That was what made the most sense.”
“But she offered to show me her financial stuff,” I told him, though that seemed like cold comfort at the time.
“Yeah…the things you know about, Ade.”
I swallowed, my mouth dry. “But... she wouldn’t. She knows what would happen if—“ The sentence died on my lips. She knew. We all did. In our world, theft was rewarded with one thing only: death.
“Your father kidnapping you, wanting to kill me...” Tristan continued, his voice a low rumble of thunder, “I don’t have all the pieces yet, but it can’t be a coincidence.”
I struggled to keep up, to understand the web of deceit that seemed to ensnare everyone I loved. “I don’t understand,” I admitted, my voice shaking with the effort of staying calm.
“Neither do I, not entirely. But we need to figure it out.” He stepped closer, the intensity in his eyes pinning me in place. “And soon, Adriana. Or else we might not live long enough to regret it.”