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She took a step forward and I could feel the world tilt on its axis. This wasn’t just a simple run-in; this was a game changer. And as her lips curved into a provocative smile, I knew that our story, our war, was about to take a turn that neither of us could have ever anticipated.
Chapter Nine: Adriana
Ihad never felt that scary, but I sent Tristan’s men–including his brother–scampering away.
They faded into the shadows, leaving Tristan and I standing alone in the dimly lit alleyway. His blue eyes held mine with an intensity that made my heart flutter. I prided myself on being a strong woman, but Tristan Callahan had a way of making me feel like a seventeen-year-old girl with a crush.
“Was that your dad’s man?” I asked. “The one trying to shoot us on our turf?”
I didn’t want him to see how pale I was at that and was grateful for the cover of night. “No,” I said. “I told him I was going to handle this myself.”
He shook his head. “Did he listen?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Look, I...I need to talk to you. Do you have somewhere we can go?”
“Adriana, I just fucking killed a man,” he muttered. “You can’t just come at me like this. Can’t it wait?”
“I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t important. I know how to take a hint.”
He was silent for a moment, his gaze searching mine to weigh the sincerity of my words. “Fine, follow me,” he said, turning to lead me further down the narrow alleyway.
We rushed through a maze-like network of backstreets and cramped spaces. Each turn appeared more obscure and confusing than the last, but Tristan moved with an ease that suggested he’d known these paths all of his life. Finally, we reached an old brick building nestled in one of the quieter corners of the city.
Tristan typed a code on the intercom next to the wrought iron gate, and it swung slightly open. “No one will find us here,” he said. “Ladies first.”
As we stepped inside the building, the cold and dingy exterior gave way to a surprisingly warm and inviting interior. A spiral staircase twisted upwards into a high-ceilinged loft. The dimly lit space was furnished with minimalist, modern pieces that contrasted with the aged brickwork.
“What is this?”
“Drop off point,” he said. “For drug ops. My dad has a few stashed around the city, and I bought a few myself. Just in case I don’t want the law to find me.”
“Tax write-offs?”
He smiled. “Something like that.”
I followed him up the stairs to the second level, where a sleek kitchen and small living area were carved out in the open concept space. A large window took up nearly an entire wall, revealing a view of the city in all its chaotic beauty.
He moved to the fridge, his broad back to me as he rummaged for a moment. With a clink of glass on glass, he produced two beers and walked back over, handing one to me with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m not usually one for sharing my hideouts,” he said, opening his beer and taking a swig. “But you’re right. We do have unfinished business.”
I nodded, trying not to let my nerves show. Tristan had this way of silently dominating a room, even one as sparse and cold as this. My heart pounded in my chest like a war drum, and despite how much I wanted to take a sip of my beer to calm my nerves, I knew I shouldn’t.
“Tristan,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. There was so much to say and yet, I found myself lost for words. He looked at me, his blue eyes steady in the dimly lit room, waiting. I put the beer down.
“Wait. Before you start, I know I owe you an apology,” he said. “My dad insisted I call your dad first, and then I was too scared to call you myself. I didn’t want to make things worse than they already are. I know you don’t just sleep with anyone.”
My stomach twisted into knots.
“I’m not here about whether you want to marry me or not,” I began, still unable to find my voice. There was so much to say and yet, I found myself lost for words. He looked at me, his blue eyes steady in the dimly lit room, waiting.
He remained silent as he leaned back against the counter. The silence between us felt electric.
“Tristan, I think–no, I’m sure–that I am...” My voice faltered as I trailed off. His sharp gaze softened slightly as he seemed to sense my struggle. “I’m pregnant.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Tristan remained motionless, his piercing blue eyes staring into mine. His expression was unreadable, but it wasn’t rejection or disgust that I saw there; it was shock.
He blinked, shaking his head a little. “Sorry, I don’t think I heard you right. My hearing is still fucked from the gunshot. What?”
