Page 84 of False Heir

"Tristan," Kieran's voice was strained, carrying a weight I'd rarely heard before. "I wanted to protect you. To give you a chance to be prepared. To fight for your place, if it comes to that. You needed to hear it from me first. From family."

“But I didn’t hear it from you!” I said. “You literally buried a box at my mum’s cabin and expected me to figure it out without your help!”

“I just thought that might be easier,” Kieran said.

“It wasn’t. It’s fucked up.”

"Tristan, please." Kieran's voice cracked like thin ice underfoot. "I know I've made mistakes, but believe me when I say I did it for us—for the family."

"Us?" My hands unclenched only to rake through my hair in exasperation. "Kieran, your secrets have a way of turning our world upside down. How is that protecting us?"

Because knowledge is power!" He shot back, his own frustration mirroring mine. But there was something else there—in the set of his shoulders, the tension around his eyes. Fear.

"Power," I scoffed, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. I was tired of power and the games that came with it. And yet, it wasn't something I could simply walk away from—not without consequences, not without abandoning everything we stood for as Callahans.

"Look at me, Tristan." Kieran stepped closer, and I felt my resolve waver. His presence had always been quiet but undeniable. Now, it was tinged with desperation. "This isn't about power for the sake of power. It's about survival. Our legacy. I didn't do this to hurt you; I did it because I couldn't stand by and watch you lose everything you're meant to have."

Meant to have..." I echoed, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Was there anything left that was meant for me, or had all of it been just illusions cast by others' expectations?

"Tristan," Kieran continued, his tone softer now, "I'm in this with you. All the way. Whatever comes, whatever threats we face—Bellamy, the other gangs...we face them together.”

“No, we fucking don’t. Not if you’re keeping things from me.”

I leaned back against the cool leather of Kieran's couch, trying to make sense of the chaos that had been unleashed on our city. His apartment, normally a sanctuary of calm in the heart of the storm, felt different today—like the outside turmoil had crept into these walls.

“I know you’re angry–”

“I’m trying really hard not to beat the shit out of you right now, actually,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” Kieran said. "This shit happening out there, it's got everyone on edge. Bellamy's move from Dublin...I didn't see it coming."

"Didn't see it coming or didn't want to?" I countered, my gaze fixed on him. Kieran had always been the master of hidden agendas, but this was something else.

"Fuck, you think I wanted any of this?" Kieran stood up and began pacing the room, his steps silent on the thick carpet. "When I spoke to Bellamy, it was just to inform him about Malachy. The old man’s dead, and I thought he should know."

"Dead," I repeated, the word still foreign on my tongue. Our father, Malachy Callahan, had cast a shadow long and dark over our lives. It had only been a few months and it already felt like it had been forever.

Now, with him gone, we were left to navigate the darkness without a guide.

"Dead," Kieran confirmed. "And when I told Bellamy, do you know what he said?" He stopped pacing and looked at me, his eyes hard as flint. "'Finally? Good.' That's what he said."

"That's fucked up," I muttered, feeling anger coil in my stomach—not just at Bellamy's words, but at the entire situation we'd found ourselves in.

"Isn't it just?" Kieran's mouth twisted into a grim smile. "Makes you wonder if the bastard ever cared for anything beyond power."

"Doesn't matter now." I stood up, squaring my shoulders. "What matters is keeping this city from tearing itself apart. If Bellamy thinks he can waltz in here and take over, he's got another thing coming."

Kieran nodded, a flicker of the old fire returning to his eyes. "We'll handle it, Tristan. You and me."

I looked at him for a second.

I didn’t think we would be able to handle things together.

And right then, I just needed to figure out if I was going to kill him.

Chapter Thirty-Six: Tristan

I looked at my brother, wondering if I should go through with it. If I should kill him.

---