Page 34 of Captive Bride

My thumb hovered over the screen of my phone, a weight settling in my chest. We had vanished without a trace, leaving nothing but whispers and ghost stories in our wake. The life we knew was filled with eyes that watched too closely and mouths that whispered our fates before we could decide them ourselves.

"Damn it," I hissed, the decision cannibalizing my resolve. Adriana stirred, a frown creasing her brow, and I stilled, not wanting to disturb her rest. She carried the brunt of this burden, her body having done the impossible, and now she lay there, vulnerable yet so fiercely strong.

Family meant protection but also peril. To call or not to call? That was the question that gnawed at me, fraying the edges of my determination. Adriana sighed in her sleep, a small sound of contentment that seemed to pierce through my indecision.

"Whatever it takes," I promised quietly, knowing that no matter what came next, I'd stand between her and the world if I had to. Adriana shifted again, her hand moving to rest on her belly, now deflated from its precious cargo.

I took one last look at the twins, their tiny chests rising and falling beneath the clear plastic domes of the incubators. Adriana's rhythmic breathing filled the room with a steady cadence, her features relaxed in sleep. The sight of them, so peaceful, made my heart clench with a ferocity that scared me. I had to do this for them, for her.

Gritting my teeth against the pain in my leg, I maneuvered my wheelchair through the door, the quiet click of its wheels on the linoleum floor echoed mockingly in the silence. The determination to protect my family battled with the dread of inviting danger back into our lives. But Adriana needed her sister, her mom, and if I were honest with myself—I needed help too.

Fumbling with the phone, I dialed the familiar number, each beep a step closer to tearing down the walls we’d built around us. It rang once, twice...

"Go for Callahan,” Kieran said.

“Hi.”

"Tristan?" Kieran's voice, heavy with sleep yet sharp with surprise, crackled through the line. The familiarity of it dug into my gut, a reminder of all we'd left behind.

"Yeah," I confirmed, my voice low as I rolled back to gaze at Adriana through the closed door. "It's me."

Silence reigned for a moment before Kieran finally breathed out a sigh. "I was wondering when you'd call. If you’d call.”

I sighed. “How are things in Boston?”

He sighed, too. “How much do you want to know?”

“The headlines.”

“Okay. Bellamy is currently in charge of the family and he’s pissed. He says you let everything drop after Dad died. The Rossis saw a power vacuum so they attacked a warehouse downtown. We lost a lot of product, so Bellamy decides to blow up some Rossi venues.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, and guess what? The Rossis blamed the Orsinis. So now Silvio is pissed and he wants to kill Bellamy. Well, he wants to kill you, too, but that’s unrelated.”

"Guess I'm not winning any popularity contests," I muttered, leaning my head back against the wheelchair. My eyes flicked instinctively to the door leading back to Adriana and our newborns. Danger was closing in from all sides. “You? Liam?”

"We're hanging on," he said, his voice taut with strained calmness. "Trying to keep things from spiraling out of control."

"I’m sorry, Kieran," I said, an apology that had been long overdue. A silence stretched between us, a chasm filled with unspoken words and buried grievances.

“No. I’m sorry,” he replied. “I should’ve…look, Bellamy was in my ear, okay? I was beside myself since Dad died and then I saw that there was this plot forming to dethrone you and I wanted to loop you in but you were already dealing with so much shit. I know you were grieving Dad, too.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, he might not even be my Dad, so does it matter?”

Kieran remained silent on the other end of the line, having been momentarily caught off guard by my bitter outburst. I could almost picture him running a hand through his disheveled dark hair, looking every bit the brooding enigma he was. The silence stretched between us, a taut thread about to snap, before he finally broke it.

“Regardless of what discoveries DNA tests might sprout, Tristan,” Kieran said quietly, “You are my brother. That has never changed for me.”

His words, heavy with sincerity, echoed in my ears long after they were spoken. Despite our strained relationship and the tensions that had driven us apart, we still shared an unbreakable bond forged by years of shared pain and sacrifice—a bond I'd thought was lost.

He had killed for me. He would again.

I knew that in my bones.

"I know," I replied gruffly, his words having erased some of the bitterness that had tainted my memories. "Listen…I didn’t call to spin the past. I called because—"

"Because you need help," Kieran cut in, his voice laced with understanding. "I get it, Tristan."

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