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“It’s not about money, Tristan,” I interrupted sharply. “It’s about us–about our lives. What kind of life can we give to a child? Our families are at war, and this child would be at the center of it all.”
He paused and turned to look at me, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my heart quake. “So we just…terminate it? Just like that?” His voice was a whisper, barely audible over the deafening silence in the room.
“Yes,” I said, my voice laced with tears. “Yes, just like that.”
He took a step toward me, his hand on my cheek. “You want the baby,” he said. He wasn’t asking me.
He was right.
“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice trembling along with the rest of me. “I was raised Catholic, Tristan. Abortion…it’s not something I ever thought I’d consider. But this…” I gestured around at his hideaway. “...this is no life for a kid.”
Tristan nodded slowly, removing his hand from my cheek and staring at me intensely. “You’re scared,” he said after a moment. The statement wasn’t accusatory; it was factual, a simple observation.
And he was right.
I was terrified.
“Of course I’m scared,” I snapped, immediately regretting my harsh tone. Taking a deep breath, I tried again, softer this time. “I’m scared of everything this means…for me...for you...for us.”
“I don’t care about our families,” he spat out, the anger flaring in his eyes startling me. “I care about you. About our baby.” His voice softened as he said the last words.
His honesty floored me and for a moment, I was speechless. It was the first time he had referred to it as ‘our baby’ and despite the circumstances, I couldn’t help but feel a warm flip in my heart. His blue eyes bore into mine, intense and full of…what? Determination? Desperation? Love?
“Look, I know there’s a lot to figure out, but–”
He was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot in the distance. And then, closer, the gate to the building swung open.
And we were no longer alone.
Chapter Ten: Tristan
Ihad barely had time to process what Adriana had told me when I realized that someone had broken into the building. The realizations hit all at once; someone had followed us from the pub, this was definitely not an Orsini hitman, and both of us were in grave danger.
Fuck.
All three of us.
Without a second thought, I grabbed Adriana’s hand, pulling her in the opposite direction. The sounds of heavy boots echoed through the empty corridors and the smell of gunpowder filled the air.
“Tristan,” she said, her voice trembling as our hands intertwined. “What’s happening?”
“No time to explain,” I answered, pulling her along as we raced through the labyrinthine corridors of the building. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
Her eyes were wide with terror and her breath came ragged as we darted into an adjacent hallway. I could feel the fear coming off her in waves, but she didn’t hesitate, responding to my pulls and tugs as we ran. There was a strength there, a resilience that humbled me.
“Where are we going?” she panted as we raced down the corridor.
“We have to get away,” I said. “That wasn’t one of your dad’s men?”
“Why would one of my dad’s men come after me?” she asked between ragged breaths. She wasn’t fast, but she was determined, keeping up with me stride for stride.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, forcing the words out between breaths. “But right now, we need to just focus on getting out of here alive.”
Her grip on my hand tightened, and she managed to give a nod, steeling herself for the race that was before us. We turned down another corridor, this one lined with crates and boxes. We darted between them, using them as cover from whoever was chasing us.
The sound of boots grew closer, and my heart pounded in my chest. It wasn’t fear that spurred me on–it was adrenaline. The thump of my heartbeat was a reminder of what I had to lose, what we had to lose.
“Up here,” I said, guiding her towards a staircase at the end of the corridor. She didn’t question me but followed quickly, her breath coming in ragged gasps now. “Go, go. You go first.”
