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Chapter One: Adriana
Glass shattered.
I snapped my eyes open. Sharp, cold fear rushed through me, slicing through the warmth of sleep like a knife. Tristan was already up, his body rigid, eyes narrowed and sharp in the dim light. His hand reached out to the bedside table, fingers wrapping around the cold metal of the handgun he kept there. Always prepared, always ready.
It took me a few seconds to reorient myself. We’d been staying in the Callahan estate. Tristan had insisted that we move into his place because they had more security and I couldn’t fault him for thinking that. My apartment was smaller. There was no 24/7 security. There were a lot of things that had to be done with the Callahan estate still and Tristan appreciated being home after his father’s death.
And then there was the fact that it allowed me to get away from my own sister, from my own family. Not that things with Tristan were much better. He was still sure we shouldn’t get married yet and I wasn’t going to try to convince him of anything he didn’t want to do.
But all of these thoughts were fucking irrelevant, anyway, because Tristan was moving like a shadow in the darkened bedroom to grab the gun he kept in the closet.
I sat up, pulling on the oversized shirt Tristan had worn yesterday, my fingers shaking as I reached for the knife I had started to keep by my side of the bed.
“Stay here,” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep and tension. But I was already too awake, too aware of the danger lurking in our once safe space to obey.
“What if...” The thought of him facing the unknown enemy alone made my stomach twist, my heart pounding so hard it was all I could hear. “What if you need backup?”
“I’ll call Kieran,” he said. “Not my pregnant girlfriend.”
I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me, “Pregnancy hasn’t made me useless, Tristan.”
“But it makes you someone I can’t afford to lose. Seriously, Adriana. Stay here,” he shot back, pausing at the door to shoot me one last glance. Underneath the stern exterior, I could see the fear flickering in his ice-blue eyes.
Before I could say anything else, he slid out of the room and shut the door behind him. The soft click felt like a gunshot, and I was left alone in the sudden stillness.
I remained where I was, clutching the cold knife in my hand as I strained my ears to listen for any sign of danger. My heart pounded against my ribs, matching the rhythm of the old antique clock ticking away in the hall.
Minutes ticked by with torturous slowness. And then... a crash from below. I flinched at the sound, terror twisting like a cold snake around my spine. Instinct propelled me to my feet, the rough carpet beneath my bare soles grounding me in the reality of the situation.
“Fuck it,” I whispered to the empty room, my fingers closing around the doorknob. Tristan’s words echoed in my mind. I could practically hear him telling me off for doing something foolish. But I couldn’t just sit here, not when I heard another crash from downstairs, followed by a muffled groan that could’ve been Tristan’s.
I slipped out of the bedroom, my heart pounding in time with my hurried footsteps. The darkness was thick around me, swallowing up any sense of familiarity this house once held. Every shadow seemed to be hiding something sinister, every creak of the floorboards under me felt like a threat.
Making my way down the staircase was like walking through a nightmare, each step slower than the one before. The living room light flickered on abruptly and I froze, blinded momentarily by its stark brightness.
I wasn’t used to the Callahan estate.
This wasn’t my home. It was a fortress, a stronghold for a family that had become mine, but whose bones were made of secrets, blood, and treachery. Yet it was where I found myself, caught in the middle of a deadly scene as if I had somehow stumbled onto the set of some graphic mafia movie.
Tristan had his back to me, his attention focused on an intruder. The intruder was also brandishing his gun at Tristan. I couldn’t see the intruder’s body because Tristan was standing in the way.
I thought about calling out, alerting Tristan to my presence, but that would only distract him. The intruder was wearing a mask, revealing nothing of his features. I was grateful for the fact that he was facing away from me and that I hadn’t fully rounded the hallway corner; it concealed me as I edged further into the room.
Tristan’s body was rigid, caution and concentration etched into every line of his tall frame. Seeing him like this felt like a punch in the gut—another stark reminder that the man I loved was not just a man, but a soldier always ready for battle.
The intruder moved suddenly, lunging at Tristan. My heart stopped as Tristan dodged the assault in a swift motion, retaliating with a punch of his own. The room echoed with the sickening crack of bone connecting with flesh.
But even in the flurry of violence, Tristan remained calm. His movements were precise and calculated: a kick thrown here, a punch landed there. It was like watching some brutal kind of dance.
The intruder was fast, but Tristan was faster. Every attack was met with a counterattack, every step followed by a step back. They circled each other like predators stalking their prey. My breath hitched with every clash, every move Tristan made.
Before I knew it, the intruder was on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Tristan stood over him, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. In the dim light, I could see the ruthlessness in his eyes—those were not the same eyes that had cradled me with warmth and love just a few hours ago.
“Who sent you?” Tristan demanded, but the man merely chuckled before coughing up more blood. He didn’t answer; instead, he reached out to grab at Tristan’s leg.
Tristan rewarded him with a harsh kick in the face. The introducer let out a groan, spitting blood on the cold marble floor. My stomach churned at the sight, the sharp tang of iron filling the room and stinging my nostrils.
“Wrong move,” Tristan said. The gun was still in his hand, and Tristan stuck out his arm to get him in the temple. The body of the intruder had fallen in an inelegant heap on the floor and he was just…lying there. Doing nothing. When Tristan pulled the trigger, the gunshot was silenced, but it still felt like it cut through every single noise around us.
