Page 44 of Captive Bride
"Adriana, run!" he shouted, struggling to keep Amber subdued. “Get them and get out!”
I didn't hesitate. Clutching Catherine and Matteo to my chest, I bolted from the closet. My legs felt like jelly as I stumbled into the hallway.
“Carm! Tristan!” I called out, my voice cracking with fear.
I stumbled down the hallway, my heart pounding in my ears. The twins whimpered against my chest as I clutched them tightly.
"Carmen! Tristan!" I called out again, desperation creeping into my voice.
Suddenly, Carmen appeared at the end of the hall, her arm wrapped in a makeshift bandage. "Adriana! Thank God," she breathed, rushing towards me.
"We need to go, now," I gasped, my eyes darting back towards the nursery where I could still hear the sounds of Kieran and Amber's struggle. “Where’s Tristan?”
“Here,” Tristan said. He was in his wheelchair, at the end of the hallway, David’s body draped over his leg. “I assume you were dealing with a similar problem.”
“Shh,” I said to Matteo, who had started to fuss. "It's okay, baby," I murmured, trying to keep my voice calm despite the panic coursing through me.
“Give her to me,” Carmen said, extending her arms. “I’ll keep her safe until we get out of here.”
“Where’s Kieran?” Tristan asked.
I hesitated for a moment, my eyes locked with Tristan's. The love and determination I saw there gave me strength. I nodded, swallowing hard.
"I love you too," I whispered.
Then I turned and ran.
Chapter Twenty: Tristan
The door to the nursery slammed open, and I barreled in, my heart hammering like a fist against my ribcage. What hit me first was the chaos—a twisted ballet of violence that had no place amid the soft pastel walls and the gentle murmur of a lullaby escaping from an abandoned mobile.
At least Adriana and the babies weren’t here. If they got away, they might be okay.
"Tristan!" Kieran's voice cut through the grunts and shuffles, but I barely registered it.
Amber, with her reddish-blonde hair sticking to her sweat-drenched forehead, was a whirlwind of desperate fury. Her arm snaked out, a flash of steel in her grip. She wasn't as strong as Kieran—no, she couldn't match his lean muscle that coiled and uncoiled with a viper's lethal grace—but that damn knife evened the odds too much for my liking.
"Let go of me, you bastard!" Amber spat, teeth bared as she tried to maneuver the blade towards Kieran's side.
"Tristan, help!" Kieran managed to twist away, avoiding a stab that would've ended things then and there.
I didn't think. My body moved on instinct, propelled by the fierce need to protect what was mine. Blood roared in my ears as I crossed the room in two long strides, grabbing Amber's wrist in a vice grip. It hurt so fucking much.
Her knife clattered to the floor, the sound absurdly loud in the sudden stillness of the nursery.
"Gotcha," I growled, my fingers digging into her flesh as she struggled against me. Her eyes, wide and wild, met mine for a split second before Kieran's fist connected with her jaw.
"Sorry, Amber," Kieran muttered, though his eyes told me he wasn't sorry at all.
The fight left her in a sudden whoosh, her body going limp in my arms. We were a tangle of limbs, gasping for breath, the aftermath of adrenaline leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. The nursery, once a haven of innocence, now looked like a battlefield, toys strewn about as silent witnesses to the carnage we'd wrought.
“You okay, man?” Kieran asked, turning to me as I tried to stop myself from collapsing.
I nodded, though my arms trembled from the exertion. The wheelchair suddenly felt miles away. Sweat beaded on my forehead as nausea roiled in my gut. I'd pushed myself too far.
"Help me back," I managed to grit out.
Kieran's eyes widened in understanding. He quickly grabbed my arms, supporting my weight as he guided me back to the chair. I sank into it gratefully, my legs useless beneath me.