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“I’m not leaving her in Silvio Orsini’s hands any longer than I have to.”
“Okay,” Kieran said. “Alright. Let’s get her back.”
As we drove on, the sun began its ascent, casting shadows over the road. I didn’t know what we’d find at the beach house, but I knew one thing for certain—I wouldn’t stop until Adriana was safe.
It didn’t take long to find it.
The property loomed ahead, a silhouette against the cloudy sky. My stomach twisted as I took in the sight of the house perched like a vulture on the rocky cliff, its stilts sinking into the jagged earth as if claiming its territory. I’d never been here before, but it radiated an aura of impenetrability.
No.
Not an aura.
This place was a fortress.
Silvio knew exactly what he was doing.
I parked right in front of it, taking the car out of gear and killing the engine. “Stay here,” I told my brother.
“Tristan, think this through,” Kieran’s voice cut through my focus, a hint of caution in his tone. “Do you really want to charge in there?”
“I don’t give a fuck about what I want,” I spat out, my gaze locked on the barrier blocking the stairs. It was clear; no one was meant to pass. Jumping the railing wasn’t an option; it stood too tall, mocking my desperation with its cold iron grin. There was only one way left for me to get up there.
We watched the waves lap at the house. Fall had turned to winter and the tide was coming in. Somewhere in the distance, a warning buoy clanged mournfully against the rising wind. Winter in Boston meant frigid tides and treacherous undercurrents, a formidable adversary for all but the most seasoned of seafarers. But this was no ordinary storm; on the horizon, dark clouds billowed ominously, signaling an impending nor’easter.
As I looked at the frothing ocean and back at the fortress-like house, my mind raced to piece together a plan. The house seemed to jeer back at me with its oppressive aura and the waves crashing at its base—each one higher than before—were like a time clock ticking down relentlessly.
I opened my car door against the gusts of wind threatening to take it off its hinges. Salty sea spray hit my face, stinging my eyes. I squinted at the house again, challenging it silently. My eyes traced its walls and windows, landing on a balcony jutting out from what looked to be the second floor. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance I had.
“Gimme your jacket,” I demanded, holding out my hand to Kieran without breaking my gaze from the house. He complied, tossing me his thick leather coat. I shrugged it on, relishing the small comfort against the chilly wind.
“You’re going up there, aren’t you?” Kieran asked, his voice full of quiet resignation.
“There’s no other way,” I said, my words barely audible over the crash and roar of the waves.
“Do you want me to come with--”
“No,” I cut him off, turning to lock eyes with him. “I need you here.”
“Tristan, you could die.”
“I’m not planning on it,” I replied.
“Oh, good. Because your plans always go well,” he said.
“Adriana is up there,” I said, more to myself than to him. The conviction in my voice felt like a shield against the danger that awaited me.
“Or she’s not, and this is a wild-goose chase.” Kieran was out of the car suddenly. He grabbed my arm, trying to anchor me to reason. “Carmen could be wrong.”
I yanked my arm away, feeling the surge of adrenaline overpower any sense of self-preservation. “She wouldn’t send us here if she didn’t believe Adriana was in that house.” My words were a growl, the beast of urgency clawing at my insides.
“Fuck’s sake. We can’t lose you like we lost Dad.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be okay.”
And just as I said that, a wave crashed into shore and the sky darkened even more.
Chapter Twenty: Tristan
