Page 12 of False Heir

Relief, sharp and immediate, cut through the tension knotted in my chest. She was safe—for now. But the frustration that she had to take such measures, that our lives were a constant chessboard of threats and safety plays, gnawed at me with steel teeth. This wasn’t the life I wanted for her, for our children. It was time to rewrite the rules we lived by. I thought.

I just had no idea how to do that.

I changed course, the tires gripping the asphalt as I steered away from the familiar route to the estate. The cabin would be our sanctuary tonight. With every mile clocking on the dashboard, my resolve hardened like concrete in my veins. I’d stand against any storm, face down any enemy. Nothing and no one would harm my family.

The night stretched out before me, an expanse of darkness pierced by the headlights of my car—two unwavering eyes cutting through uncertainty. My grip on the steering wheel was ironclad, each turn bringing me closer to Adriana, to the promise of her strength and the silent oath I had made to protect our future.

“Almost there, love,” I murmured to the quiet interior of the car, to the shadows that danced just outside the reach of the lights. “Hold on.”

The gravel crunched under the weight of my car as I finally turned into the narrow path leading to the cabin. It was a hidden gem, surrounded by the towering trees and the thick brush of untamed wilderness—an ideal spot for privacy and reflection.

My mom’s cabin. Now my soon-to-be wife’s cabin. I would put this in her name as soon as I could, once we were out from under the iron grip of the whole fucking thing.

The isolation here was a double-edged sword; it provided solace but also served as a vivid reminder of why we needed such seclusion.

My phone lay on the passenger seat, the screen casting an ephemeral glow in the dimness. I snatched it up, scrolled to Ronan’s contact card with practiced ease, and waited for his gruff voice to answer.

He’d come back from his Florida holiday to deal with a massive shitstorm, and while my life was complicated, I was honestly glad I wasn’t him.

“Report,” I commanded curtly once he picked up.

“Everything’s quiet at the estate, Tristan. No more moves from the Rossi clan. We’ve doubled the patrols and checked all security systems. Killian left with them in his car. Silvio Orsini was with them. Are you sure you don’t want us to pursue them?”

I sighed. There was nothing I wanted more, but this was not the time. “No, lad. Stay cool. I need the Callahan estate to be on lockdown. I need to make sure my brothers are okay. Obviously listen to whatever instructions Kieran has, but make sure no one comes anywhere near my house.”

“Aye, boss,” Ronan said. “You got it. Everything is quiet over here like I said. Too bloody quiet, if you ask me.”

“What about Carmen?”

“Yeah, I think your brother likes her.”

“What?”

“That wasn’t what you were asking?”

“I was just asking if she was okay.”

“Fine,” Ronan said. “Sharing a drink with Kieran last I checked.”

I rubbed my forehead, the tension seeping into my temples. “Right. I want to know as soon as anything changes. Immediately.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Ronan assured me.

“Good. Keep your eyes open and your guards up.” Ending the call, I shoved the phone back onto the passenger seat, my gaze resting on the modest cabin’s silhouette against the dark tapestry of night.

There were a hundred different scenarios running through my head, each one a potential disaster waiting to happen. But those thoughts had to wait. Adriana was my focus now.

I parked the car, killed the engine, and stepped out into the night. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth—a natural perfume that always seemed to calm my restless spirit. I rounded the car and approached the cabin with swift strides, the soft light spilling from the windows guiding me home.

She was standing at the door, her silhouette framed against the light. Even from a distance, I could see the tension in her posture, the slight tremor in her hands. But when our eyes met, there was a fierceness there too—Adriana was no damsel in distress, she never had been, and it just made me love her more.

“Tristan,” she breathed out, and that single word was laced with so many emotions it nearly stopped my heart.

“Ade.” My voice was rough, like gravel, as I closed the gap between us in a few long steps.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, feeling the warmth of her body meld against mine. She clung to me, her fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt, seeking reassurance in the solid reality of my presence. And I held on just as tightly, the beat of her heart against my chest a drumming promise that we were still alive, still fighting, still together.

This was what we were fighting to protect—the right to hold each other, to love without fear, to live without looking over our shoulders every second. For this moment, the chaos of our lives melted away, leaving only the two of us, holding onto each other as if we could somehow merge into one unbreakable entity.

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