Page 62 of Captive Bride

"An explosion," he confirmed, his voice low, rough with the sudden shift from heated debate to cold dread. We both knew what this meant: Bellamy wasn't just threatening; he was acting.

Instinct took over. We turned as one, sprinting toward the house, our hearts pounding a frantic rhythm against our ribs.The plush carpets of my childhood home muffled our desperate steps as we raced through the halls, echoes of the blast still reverberating in my mind.

"Matteo! Catherine!" My voice was sharp with fear as we burst into the nursery. There they were, our newborns, Matteo's tiny fists balled in sleep, Catherine's wide-eyed gaze turning towards us. Relief flooded through me, raw and overwhelming.

My parents were there, watching over them.

Tristan swept Matteo into his arms, cradling him close, while I scooped up Catherine, her warmth a stark reminder of what was at stake. For a moment, the chaos outside faded, replaced by the fierce need to protect these innocent lives we had created together.

“Everything okay?” My dad asked.

“Yes, Mr. Orsini,” Tristan said. “We were just startled by the, uh, sound.”

“There’s construction across the street,” my mom said. “Scheduled demolition.”

I nodded, trying to keep my face neutral despite the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. "Right, of course. The demolition."

But as I locked eyes with Tristan, I knew we were both thinking the same thing. That was no scheduled demolition. The timing was too perfect, the sound too ominous. This was Bellamy, sending us a message.

"Right," I said, forcing a smile. "Of course. We should have known that."

Tristan's eyes met mine, and I saw my own unease reflected there. We both knew this wasn't over.

"Why don't we take the twins for a walk?" Tristan suggested, his voice casual but his grip on Matteo tightening almost imperceptibly. "Get some fresh air?"

I nodded, understanding the unspoken message. We needed to get out, to assess the situation without alarming my parents.

"That sounds lovely," I agreed, adjusting Catherine in my arms. "Mom, Dad, we'll be back in a bit."

As we stepped outside, the late afternoon sun felt harsh and unforgiving. The air was thick with tension, a stark contrast to the peaceful suburban scene around us. I clutched Catherine closer to my chest, her tiny warmth a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty we now found ourselves in.

Tristan wheeled beside me, Matteo secure in his lap. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning for any sign of danger. We moved down the street in tense silence, both hyper-aware of our surroundings.

"We need to talk about this," I said under my breath, keeping my voice low.

"Not here," Tristan replied, his jaw clenched tight. "We don't know who might be watching."

I nodded, understanding his caution. We continued our walk, maintaining the facade of a normal family outing. But with every step, every rustle of leaves, every distant car engine, my nerves frayed further.

As we rounded a corner, Tristan suddenly stiffened. "Don't react," he murmured, "but there's a black SUV parked across the street. It wasn't there earlier."

“So what do we do?”

“We go back to my place,” he said. “My building is a fortress. And then…I don’t know, we can decide what happens after that.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Tristan

The weight of the world seemed to evaporate as soon as the door to the Boston apartment clicked shut behind us. Our bags hit the floor with a thud that echoed off the walls, followed by an almost synchronized collapse onto the couch. Adriana sank into the cushion next to me, her sigh mingling with mine in a silent chorus of relief.

The babies were miraculously still asleep in their carriers. I couldn't believe our luck. Adriana and I exchanged a weary but triumphant glance.

"We made it," I whispered, not daring to speak any louder.

She nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. "For now."

“Let’s put them in their nursery,” I said.

gently lifted the carriers, careful not to disturb the sleeping twins and put them on my lap. Adriana followed close behind as wemade our way to the nursery. The room was bathed in soft moonlight filtering through the curtains.

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