Page 60 of Captive Bride

“Bellamy is ruthless, and he has no roots here. He can fuck off to Dublin whenever he wants. If this doesn’t go well, if he loses anyone, guess what? It doesn’t matter. Malachy was an absolute bastard, but he tried to keep us alive. To Bellamy, it doesn’t make much of a difference. And he's got people in place, ready to move on his command."

My blood ran cold. "The other families...you mean my father?"

Kieran nodded grimly. "Among others. He sees the Orsinis as the biggest threat to his takeover."

"Jesus Christ," Liam muttered, his face pale.

I felt sick to my stomach. The thought of losing my family, of my children growing up without their grandparents, was unbearable. I looked at Tristan, seeing my own fear reflected in his eyes.

“We have to tell him,” I said.

“Ade, maybe we shouldn’t involve your Dad in this.”

Too fucking late, I thought, as I made my way back to the living room.

And toward my dad.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Adriana

Tristan wheeled himself up to me, stilling me with his hand on my arm.

We stood outside the Orsini household, our shadows stretching long in the late afternoon sun, a private storm brewing between us. Tension crackled like static around Tristan and me, his voice a low rumble.

"Adriana, we can't risk telling Silvio," he said, jaw clenching as if bracing against my inevitable pushback.

"Tristan, we're talking about Bellamy here," I shot back, my heart thudding in my chest. "He's not just some two-bit thug; he's a genuine threat to us—"

"Which is exactly why we shouldn't involve your father," he interrupted, his eyes flitting around nervously, as if the mere mention of Bellamy might summon him from the shadows.

I took a step closer, our bodies almost touching, and lowered my voice to a fierce whisper. "Look, I know Dad hasn't been...model parent material, but he doesn't deserve a death sentence. Not informing him could be just that."

"Ade, you know as well as I do that dragging your dad into this will only escalate things." The blue of his eyes darkened, a clear sign of the unease churning beneath his calm facade.

"Maybe," I admitted, shaking my head slightly, feeling the weight of my responsibility. "But it's his right to know, isn't it? We're a family, and families protect each other, even when it's hard."

“And you think pissing Silvio off is going to do that?”

"Tristan, this isn't a game. It's our lives."

He took a step closer, his broad shoulders blocking the sunlight. "I know that better than anyone," he said firmly. "But involving Silvio? That's lighting a fuse on a powder keg. We can protect the family ourselves; we don't need to drag him into the crossfire."

"Can we, though?" I arched an eyebrow, the familiar unsettled feeling creeping over me. This wasn't just Tristan being overly confident; it was more personal, more desperate. He was keeping something from me—I could feel it in the tightness of his posture, the way his eyes darted away before meeting mine again.

"Tristan," I reached out, touching his arm lightly, feeling the muscle tense under my fingers. "What aren't you telling me?"

His jaw ticked, that telltale sign of his anxiety. The guarded look in his eyes was a fortress I knew all too well. "Adriana, it's not that simple—"

"Save it. You're not just worried about starting a war; there's something else you're not sharing." My intuition was like a live wire, sparking against the cool facade I maintained. "Is Bellamy targeting us personally? Is that it?"

He shifted uncomfortably, his broad frame somehow seeming smaller under the weight of my scrutiny. "It's complicated," he muttered, but even as he said it, I knew it was a deflection.

“Don’t do that. We have children together. If there’s something going on, you need to onboard me.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, his entire body slumping in his wheelchair. “Come here,” he said. “Sit on my lap. I want you, and only you, to hear this.”

I hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on Tristan's lap. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I could feel the tension in his body, the rapid beat of his heart against my back.

“Look,” he said. “David and Amber Miller could’ve easily killed us that first time they walked into our house. We didn’t have defenses, we didn’t have anyone else there, the chances of them winning was higher. Yes?”

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