Page 33 of Illicit Throne

“Why would they involve themselves now?” his voice was barely more than a murmur, directed more towards himself than me.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, hating how helpless and useless I felt. I’d grown up in this world, watching my father’s ruthless decisions shaping our lives. Yet, despite that training, I felt woefully inadequate in this moment.

Silence fell between us once again, heavy with the weight of our thoughts and fears. All we could do now was wait and hope that Silvio and Malachy could maintain control over the rapidly escalating situation. And that they wouldn’t turn on each other.

“For what it’s worth,” Tristan said, taking a sip of his almost empty coffee cup. “My father was furious with me too.”

“I bet he was,” I muttered, picking at the frayed edge of my shirt, my mind elsewhere. The Rossis had proven themselves skilled tacticians over the years, and this calculated move against the Callahans could not be ignored. It was a clear message that they didn’t respect the ongoing negotiations and were more than willing to start another war.

“He wanted what was best for our family, for our legacy,” Tristan continued, his gaze fixated on the black dregs in his cup as if they held the answers to our problems. “He thinks we’ve become too soft, my brothers and me. That we don’t understand how important this marriage alliance is because we haven’t seen real bloodshed.”

“And have you?” I asked, my gaze landing on him.

Tristan looked up at me, his blue eyes haunted. He didn’t reply immediately but instead took in a shaky breath. The silence hung heavy between us before he finally answered.

“What? Seen blood? Yeah, I have,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t want that for us, Adriana. I don’t want that for our child.”

He looked so vulnerable then, stripped bare of all pretence. It was a side of Tristan I had never seen. His usual demeanor was replaced by raw honesty and fear.

“This is on me,” Tristan said, rubbing his temple. “I think I do know why they attacked. A couple of months ago, the Rossi family got raided. Some people were caught, some were indicted. There’s a power vacuum there now, and I was supposed to be the one to unite the Callahans and the Orsinis...instead, I divided us. They probably think we’re more vulnerable than we ever have been.”

“But Tristan,” I interjected gently, reaching out to still his restless hand. “We didn’t do this to ourselves. None of us knew about the Rossis. We can’t blame ourselves for what they decided to do.”

“But still,” he defended, a crease forming in his brow. “I feel like I failed you, Adriana. I was supposed to keep you safe.” His hand cradled my belly, a simple gesture filled with so much tenderness and regret.

“You have,” I assured him, placing my hand over his. “And you continue to do so.”

“I should’ve known,” he murmured, looking down at our linked hands as if they had the answers etched on their skin. “I should’ve been prepared...”

“No one could’ve seen this coming,” I told him softly, lifting his chin gently so that he was looking at me instead of our hands. His eyes were filled with torment, guilt eating away at him. “You need to understand that.”

He shook his head. “My father told me,” he said, his fingers rubbing circles on his temples. “I just wasn’t listening to it. I wasn’t listening to him.”

“What did he tell you?”

I watched as he chewed the inside of his mouth. “He told me that if I backed away from the deal,” he replied, his words slow, deliberate. “We were all dead.”

Chapter Thirteen: Tristan

Once we were done with breakfast, I realized that the house hadn’t really been stocked with food beyond the very basic necessities. The realization hit me with an unexpected pang of guilt. I’d promised Adriana that she would be safe here, away from the dangers of our families’ feud and the city’s chaos. But the stark truth was, I’d only managed to bring her from one prison to another.

Car keys in hand, I made my way towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Adriana asked, her sharp gaze following my movements.

“Into town,” I revealed, pulling on a coat against the early morning chill. “We need supplies.”

Adriana rose from her chair instantly, her dark eyes intense. “I’m coming with you.”

“No.” The word escaped before I could even consider any other response.

She looked stung, and it felt like a punch to my gut. But it didn’t change the fact that it was too dangerous for her to be out in public right now, especially without reinforcements at our side.

She brushed her hair back behind her ear. “Tristan,” she said. “Be reasonable. There’s no way whoever was after you followed us here.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly at her words. “Sweetheart,” I said, meeting her gaze with an intensity that took even me by surprise. “That’s exactly what they’d want us to think.”

Adriana’s gaze darkened. “Fuck you,” she said. “Don’t talk down to me.”

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