Page 39 of Captive Bride

"Adorable little things," Amber chimed in, her smile genuine as she spoke of Catherine and Matteo. It was a moment of normalcy, one I clung to like a lifeline, even as I sensed the undercurrents that threatened to pull us all back into the depths of The Callahan Legacy's tempestuous sea.

"Excuse me, where's the bathroom?" David's voice sliced through the hum of our conversation. His question was a pebble tossed into the still waters of our evening, rippling outward with an undercurrent I couldn't quite place.

"Down the hall on your left," I directed without a second thought, my attention already swinging back to the familial scene before me. David nodded, his movements as silent and discreet as he slipped away.

I sank deeper into the sofa, letting the fabric hug my weary body. The dimly lit living room of the Delaware house seemed to shrink around us, creating an intimate circle where Amber's laughter mingled with Carmen's animated storytelling. Kieran listened, his eyes radiating warmth that contradicted the chill creeping in from the early winter evening outside.

"Can you believe it? They both have Tristan's eyes," Carmen enthused, her hands gesturing wildly as if painting their portraits in the air.

"Thank goodness they got Adriana's nose, though," Kieran added with a smirk, earning a playful swat from Carmen and a reluctant smile from me.

"Hey!" I feigned indignation, but my heart swelled at the mention of my children, my very own twins who lay sleeping peacefully just rooms away. This moment, this bubble ofdomesticity we'd carved out amidst a life more accustomed to whispers and shadows, felt almost surreal.

"Speaking of Tristan, how's he holding up with daddy duties?" Amber's inquiry pulled me back, a reminder of the delicate balance we maintained between family and the ever-looming presence of our history.

"Like he was born for it," I replied, pride threading my words. "He's a natural."

Our laughter filled the room, a sound so rare and precious that I wanted to bottle it up and keep it safe. It was a stark contrast to the life we led within Boston, where every step was a calculated dance on the knife-edge of power and peril.

"Never thought I'd see the day when Tristan Callahan would be changing diapers," Kieran chuckled, shaking his head with disbelief etched across his features.

"Life is full of surprises," I murmured, the corners of my mouth lifting in a knowing smile. And as I basked in the glow of this fleeting normalcy, I could almost forget the weight of the crown we bore and the sacrifices it demanded. Almost.

I excused myself from the cozy cocoon of camaraderie, the laughter fading behind me as I made my way through the quiet corridor to check on the babies. The soft carpet muffled my footsteps, a stark reminder of the silent vigilance that had become second nature. As I neared the nursery, the muted sound of rummaging caught my attention. The bathroom door was ajar, a sliver of light cutting through the dim hallway.

Curiosity piqued, I approached silently, peering through the crack. My fingers found the burner phone in my pocket—a precaution as instinctive as breathing—and I zoomed in on David's reflection in the mirrored cabinet. He shuffled through our personal items with a puzzling sense of urgency, his features tight with concentration. "What the hell?" I muttered under my breath, my eyebrows knitting together in suspicion.

I watched him for a few more seconds, the unease in my stomach growing. But fatigue pulled at my bones, heavy and insistent, and the soft gurgles of the twins beckoned me away. I pocketed the phone, tucking away my misgivings for now. With one last wary glance at the cracked door, I turned toward the nursery, the need to see Catherine and Matteo overwhelming everything else.

I edged past the bathroom, a knot of concern lodging itself in my throat. The twins needed me more than whatever David was up to. As I pushed open the nursery door, a wave of relief washed over me. The soft glow from the nightlight bathed the room in a serene amber hue, and there they were—my little ones.

"Hey there, my loves," I whispered, padding over to the twin cribs. Catherine stirred at the sound of my voice, her tiny fists unfurling like blossoms in the morning light. She blinked sleepily up at me, cooing gently as if to assure me that all was well in her small world. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to her forehead. Her skin was warm, her breaths even and tranquil, everything about her utterly perfect.

Matteo, ever the vigilant one, watched me with his ocean-deep eyes from his crib. He reached out with a chubby hand, grasping for something only he could see. I brushed my finger against his palm, and he latched onto it with a strength that beliedhis tender age. "Strong like your dad," I murmured, my heart swelling with a mix of pride and an indefinable ache. His gaze held mine, unblinking, as if he understood the chaos that swirled just beyond these four walls.

Ensuring they were both content and safe, I allowed myself a moment to breathe in the peace of their slumbering forms. This room, a haven within the fortress that was our home, was the one place where the weight of the Callahan Legacy seemed to lift, if only slightly. Here, I wasn't just Adriana Orsini, navigating the treacherous waters of allegiance and survival—I was a mother, and they were my world.

I slumped against the nursery wall, my gaze flitting between Catherine's peaceful slumber and Matteo's tiny, clutching fingers. The softness of their breath, the gentle rise and fall of their chests—it was a lullaby more potent than any melody, bringing a rare solace to my frayed nerves.

"See? This is nice. Normal," I whispered to myself—a word that tasted foreign on my lips. In this room, with my babies' innocent eyes staring back at me, I could almost believe in such a thing. But beyond these walls, life was a relentless storm, a game where every move was a matter of survival. Our pasts was a world drenched in shadow, and we were all bound to its pull, like marionettes dancing to a tune not our own.

My body ached for rest, my mind for reprieve, but I knew neither would come easy. The exhaustion that clung to me was a cloak woven from sleepless nights and whispered fears—a constant reminder of the life I had chosen. Or perhaps, the life that had chosen me.

It was in this weary reflection that the stillness shattered. A sharp noise pierced the quietude of the Delaware house, yanking me from my thoughts. My head snapped toward the window, eyes narrowing as I strained to listen. It was out of place, unexpected—a crack that split the evening air, leaving a ripple of alarm that coursed through me.

"Stay put," I murmured to the twins, though they were none the wiser. With careful steps, I moved toward the sound, my senses honed from years of living on a razor's edge.

Every cell in my body was awake, alert, ready to face whatever breach had dared to disturb our sanctuary.

It was one thing to come after me…

But coming after us when the twins were there?

The very idea of it made my body thrum with fury. And I was ready to fight.

Chapter Eighteen: Tristan

Acrash jolted me from sleep, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to break free. Blinking away the grogginess, I scanned the shadows of my bedroom, every muscle coiled tight.

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