Page 61 of False Heir

“Didn’t feel like going back to my apartment,” Liam said, shrugging, although the gesture didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The sound of that, uh, of the thing that happened, was still ringing in my damn ears. Needed to clear my head, have a drink... more than a drink, if I’m being honest.” He glanced up at me with a half-hearted attempt at a smirk. “Just wanted to forget about it all for a bit. You get that, don’t you?”

I did get it, more than he realized. But acknowledging that, sharing that kind of vulnerability, was not something I could afford—not with everything teetering on a knife’s edge. So, I stayed silent, letting the clamor of the fish and chip shop fill the space between us. My own meal lay mostly untouched, the vinegar tang hanging in the air, reminding me of simpler times—times before codes, before legacies, before every choice felt like life or death.

Liam sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair—a mirror image of the stress I felt but mastered at hiding. “Anyway, she’s probably halfway back to Ireland by now.”

“Really? That’s strange,” I found myself saying, a frown creasing my brow. “I thought I knew every fully Irish person in Boston.”

“Well, obviously, you don’t,” Liam said, taking a swig of his coke.

“Speaking of which,” Kieran said, his voice pulling me from my thoughts, “we’ve got bigger fish to fry than Liam’s love life. The Orsinis are being hit hard.”

Liam perked up, all traces of personal woes momentarily forgotten. “Another bust?”

“Yep,” Kieran confirmed, his gaze sharp and knowing. “They lost two of their warehouses this week alone. It’s weird—like someone’s got it out for them specifically.”

“Can’t be the Rossis since they’re working with Silvio, unless they fell out,” I said. “Which could well happen. That man–I don’t think he knows how to keep a friend.”

“Who else would be after the Orsinis, though?” Liam asked. “We’re not attacking them and as far as we know, no one else is encroaching on the territory…so…it’s weird, right?”

“Or it’s just their turn in the barrel,” I mused, my mind racing with possibilities. Each move we made on this chessboard of power came with risks and rewards. “We need to stay alert. If they’re being targeted, it could spill over onto us. It’s not like we can go to Dad and ask what to do.”

“Agreed,” Liam said, nodding solemnly. “But who would go after them with such precision? It doesn’t feel like random hits.”

“Maybe it’s not,” Kieran replied. “Could be someone new trying to make a name for themselves—or an old enemy settling scores.”

“Either way,” I concluded, feeling the familiar tug of command, “we need to keep our eyes open and our defenses tight. The last thing we need is a war on two fronts.”

“Tristan’s right,” Liam added. “Let’s not let our guard down.”

Now that we were talking about business, my appetite returned somewhat.

I was halfway through my fish and chips when the vibration in my pocket jolted me back to the present. Glancing at the screen, I saw Adriana’s name flash with a message that twisted my insides.

She wanted space.

Fuck.

“Everything alright?” Kieran asked casually, but I was already stuffing my phone back into my pocket.

“Fine,” I lied, barely tasting the tartar sauce as I took another bite of my lunch. The cool air from the marina did nothing to soothe the heat building in my chest. “Is this cod? It tastes like haddock.”

Liam smirked, crumpling his napkin and tossing it onto his empty plate. “Yeah, that definitely wasn’t cod,” he said.

Kieran agreed, nodding solemnly. “It was haddock. Always is on a Thursday.”

I looked at them in disbelief, my fork pausing halfway to my mouth. “How did I not know this?”

“Because you never pay attention,” Liam shrugged, his smirk widening as he knocked back the rest of his drink.

That was a low blow and I frowned, setting down my fork. With Adriana’s text burning a hole in my pocket, there was a certain truth to it. My mind had been elsewhere these past few weeks—months even. It was tough to focus on anything when your future—your family—was at stake.

“Alright, alright,” I conceded, raising my hands in surrender. “Maybe I’ve been preoccupied.”

“Seriously, Tristan. You can talk to me. You know that, right?” Liam’s voice carried a sincerity that snagged my attention despite everything else.

I glanced back at him, the image of his earnest expression momentarily grounding me. “I appreciate it, Liam, but I’ve got this under control,” I lied smoothly, even as my gut tightened with the knowledge that control was the last thing I had when it came to Adriana.

“Sure you do,” he replied, not quite convinced but dropping the subject all the same. He knew better than to push when my walls were up.

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