Page 76 of False Heir

I shook my head. “I wasn’t that hungry.”

“You weren’t?” she asked, licking her ice cream. “Well, thank you for this.”

“Adriana, we’ve got a situation,” I began, my tone grave as I pulled away just enough to look her in the eye. “The cops are onto us. Surveillance has picked up around the safehouse. We can’t stay here.”

Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was always cautious, her mind dissecting every angle before committing to action—a trait that had kept us both alive on more than one occasion.

“Tristan, are you sure?” she pushed back, her skepticism lining her words like steel. “I mean, it could be routine. Kieran would’ve tipped us if things were heating up.”

“How can you trust him after–after everything?”

“Well, he’s kept you alive so far, hasn’t he?” she said matter-of-factly.

“Kieran’s good,” I conceded, “but he’s not infallible. I don’t want to gamble with your life.” I watched her absorb this, her face an unreadable mask.

“Moving again is risky. It draws attention,” she countered practically, her voice steady even as I saw the faintest flicker of unease in her gaze. “How certain are you?”

“Dead certain.” I stepped back, running a hand through my hair. I hated the anxiety bubbling up in her, but I wasn’t about to let my guard down, not when our lives were on the line.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure.” I tried to keep my voice level, to reassure her without letting on how much I was wrestling with my own demons. “We need to disappear for a while, lay low until we figure out our next move.”

She sighed, the weight of the world seemingly resting on her shoulders. “It feels like we’re always running.”

“Maybe so,” I said, “but it’s better than the alternative. I promised I’d keep you safe, Adriana. That means doing whatever it takes.”

Her silence filled the room, heavy and thick. Finally, she nodded, her decision made. “Okay, Tristan. Let’s do it your way. But if we’re jumping at shadows—“

“We’re not,” I interjected quickly, though I appreciated her need for reassurance. Turning away to hide the concern etching my features, I started gathering what few belongings we couldn’t leave behind.

As we left the dim warmth of the apartment, the cool evening air hit us like a sobering slap. The streets of Boston loomed large and foreboding, but our steps were purposeful. With each stride, I felt the familiar resolve settle over us. Whatever lay ahead, at least for now it felt like we’d face it side by side.

“Tristan,” Adriana started, her voice breaking the silence between us as we navigated through the early evening shadows of Boston’s streets. “Where are we headed?”

“Somewhere safe,” I assured her, my hand finding hers, squeezing it tight. I needed her to believe, to trust me. “Somewhere you’ll like. But we need to keep moving.”

“Always moving,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“Adriana,” I stopped, turning to face her. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to stand still. I spoke with urgency, trying to infuse every word with the determination I felt burning inside me. “I know this isn’t the life we dreamed of, but I swear to you, I’m doing everything I can to make things right. Kieran’s playing a dangerous game, and we can’t afford to be pawns in his strategy.”

“Are you–”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said, getting annoyed.

“Alright, jeez. Got it.”

We moved quickly then, our strides synchronized as we made our way to the car parked discreetly down the street. As I slipped into the driver’s seat and Adriana settled beside me, I took one last look at the rearview mirror, scanning for any signs of pursuit.

Nothing.

“Next stop, a new beginning,” I said, putting the car in gear. The engine roared to life, a low growl that filled the quiet street.

“Next stop,” Adriana repeated, her voice steadier now.

With that, I pressed down on the gas, and we sped away from the life we knew, racing toward an uncertain future that I was hellbent on shaping into something worth fighting for.

As I maneuvered the sleek black car through the tangled veins of Boston’s streets, Adriana rummaged through the paper bag between us, her fingers closing around the ice cream I’d grabbed for her. A small victory in a day fraught with tension.

“I brought the spoon, right?” she asked, kicking off her high heels and tucking her feet beneath her.

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