Page 36 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Kieran

T ristan stood near the stone arch that led to the lower garden path, gloved hands tucked behind his back like he was reviewing a chessboard only he could see.

Liam paced near the patio steps, hands shoved in his coat pockets, eyes flicking between us.

I stayed still. Shoulders tight. Heart tight. Everything tight.

It was Christmas morning.

Inside, the house was filled with warmth and noise—kids yelling over new toys, her sister and mother calling for more coffee, Adriana humming along to Bing Crosby while she basted something. But out here? Out here it felt like purgatory.

Liam exhaled hard, his breath misting. "You have to tell him."

“Really?”

Liam gave me a look. I knew him well enough to know it meant that he wasn’t buying my bullshit. I got it, I just wished he had given me a little more time.

Tristan turned. Not fully—just enough that I could see his face in profile. "Tell me what?"

His voice was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant someone had already loaded the gun.

Liam looked at me. I looked back.

"The girl," Tristan said, still facing the hedge. "The one who called you Key. Who is she, Kieran?"

I felt my lungs collapse, rebuilt them. It didn’t fucking help; I still sounded breathless when I spoke. "Rosie Marquez. Ruby’s daughter."

"And she's yours," Tristan said.

It wasn't a question.

Liam looked away, jaw tight.

I nodded once.

Tristan let the silence grow, let it root through the mud and cold between us. His eyes came to rest on me: blue, bottomless, sharp as the day they first pulled me out of the river.

“You didn’t know?”

I shook my head. “Not until very recently.”

Tristan didn’t say anything at first–just turned slightly, like he needed a different angle to process the blow. Then, soft and stunned, he murmured, “My niece.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Your niece.”

“My God,” Tristan said, after a second. He started laughing…

but it was guttural, raspy, not entertained—shocked and angry .

“She is yours.” His gaze burned hotter than the morning sun over the snow.

“I should have seen it in her eyes, that same big smile like no one could ever hurt her…that’s you all over.

And you let my entire family watch that little display last night without saying a single word. ”

“I didn’t know what you’d do.”

Tristan stopped laughing so fast it was jarring. “You didn’t know what I’d do?” he repeated, incredulous. “And when, exactly, have I crossed you?”

“I didn’t know at first,” I said, jaw tight. “And when I did— you were the one who told me to ruin her. I made a call. Rosie is mine. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but protecting her mattered more than pleasing you.”

“More important to protect her than to please me.” Tristan’s tone was sardonic, but his expression was unreadable. “And yet you seem convinced the two are mutually exclusive. As if protecting what’s ours means going it alone.”

I didn’t say anything to that—because…no, that hadn’t occurred to me.

That he had as much of a vested interest in Rosie as I did, because she was our blood. She was a Callahan.

“Kieran,” Tristan said, “we have blood on our hands. We always will…but Boston? It’s ours.

The city bends to us, not the other way around.

If you think you’re keeping her safe by pulling at the heartstrings of a resentful DA one day and shunning us the next, then I don’t think you understand your own family. ”

“You could hurt her. That wouldn’t keep her safe.”

His jaw tightened. “I would never hurt our family. I would never hurt a child in our family.”

Tristan’s gaze cut to Liam, then back to me. “Did you know? How long?”

“Not long,” Liam said, and I was surprised at how quickly he came to my defense. “Just a few weeks, months. I don’t know. He wasn’t trying to play you. He was trying to figure out what to do.”

“And Marquez? How long has she known?”

“From the beginning,” I said. “She knew but I wasn’t answering her calls.

I’d cut her off…because it was back when you were under investigation, Tristan.

They were watching everything. Adriana was pregnant, and you told me to keep my head down, and I fucking did…

and I missed the first eight years of my daughter’s life because of it. ”

Tristan exhaled—then reached out and clasped my shoulder, squeezing tight. “I’m sorry for that, lad.”

I just stared. Couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Then he took a deep breath, glancing to Liam, then back to me. “I think it’s time we stop treating your little indiscretion like an asset liability and start factoring her in.”

“Factoring her in how?” I muttered. “I’ll tell you what I told Liam. If anything happens to her or her mother—”

“You’re going to lose your shit? Yeah, I don’t doubt that’s true.”

“Then trust me.”

“I do,” Tristan said. “That’s why I’m standing here. That’s why I haven’t told you to go fuck yourself like I’d tell anyone else. She’s a Callahan. You’re a Callahan. But this only works if you quit keeping secrets, Kieran.”

“They’re not secrets,” I said. “They’re fucking survival tactics.”

“Pull your head out of your arse,” Liam said, joining us. “Or someone else will.”

“I can’t do both, you know,” I replied. “Keep Tristan in the loop and keep her safe.”

“You know, I’m offended. I might give you a lot of shit, but I’ve kept you alive for a long time. I’ve kept all of us alive for a long time. I can do it for your daughter, too. Watch me,” Tristan said, his voice solemn.

“Yeah, watch you,” I said bitterly, trying and failing to keep the scorn out of my voice.

“Then what? When do you decide it’s too risky?

A month from now? Two months from now? When I try to reach out to her mother and she files harassment charges?

You really think I trust you to not make any choice that will keep us out of cuffs?

You think I trust anyone in this fucking family to not hedge? ”

“That’s not fair,” Liam said. “The lines are just so crossed. We wouldn’t hedge. Why do you think we’re talking to you instead of just…shooting you?”

That was a little sweet. Fucked up, but sweet. I looked at Tristan and he smiled.

“Alright,” I said, looking at both of them. “Fine. You want me to tell you everything?”

“Yes,” Liam said. “That’s exactly what we want.”

“Then here it is: I don’t know what she’s going to do.

I don’t know if she’s going to walk away or talk to the feds or wake up one morning and decide civil unions are the best way to ride out the fucking apocalypse.

I have no fucking clue, because for the first time in my life, I am not calling the shots. And that scares the shit out of me.”

Tristan cocked his head. “You can bury her with this,” he said. “A DA having an affair baby with a mob boss…I mean, it’s really stupid of you, but exceptionally juicy.”

“No,” I said. “She’s not coming for us anymore, either. Don’t you get it? The whole Callahan thing will just ring like an empty campaign promise, because now we also have enough to destroy her for good. It might be chaotic, but it’s good old-fashioned mutually assured destruction.”

Tristan raised a brow. There weren’t many surprises left for him in this business, but the thought of his brother’s dramatic self- destruction seemed to entertain him. “So you think you can keep this over her head long enough to keep the feds off us?”

“I think,” I said, “that I might know her better than they do.”

“Well, then,” Tristan replied. “It seems like you finally have this figured out.”

I shrugged. “About time, right?”

“If you’d told us sooner, we wouldn’t have made this so hard on you.”

“You’d have made it harder,” I said.

“Yes, well. You’ll have to forgive us for being protective. You’re still our brother.”

“Damn it, Tristan,” I said, and I could feel the exhaustion leave my body. “How many times did you think about just getting rid of her?”

“A few,” he replied. “But now I know she’s my niece’s mother, right? So I probably shouldn’t kill her. But if you fuck this up, then it might end up ruining your life, too.”

I smiled tightly. "That's never stopped you before."

Tristan gave me a long, hard look. "You're still keeping something from me. I know you, Kieran. I know exactly when you're holding back and why, and you should know better by now. Tell me what you're planning, or figure out a will in advance."

I didn’t flinch.

He wanted to see panic. I gave him silence.

Tristan stepped closer, enough that I could see the faint scar under his right eye—the one he got in Belfast and never talked about.

“You think I won’t find out?” he said quietly.

“You think Liam won’t slip, or that Ivanov won’t crack when I finally lean on him?

”“I’m not planning anything,” I said, which was only half a lie. “Not yet.”

“Wrong answer,” Tristan murmured. “Because the only thing worse than scheming behind my back is waiting until after the explosion to say you saw the match.”

“I’m not lighting anything.”

“No, you’re just standing in the kitchen, staring at the fuse,” he snapped.

Liam shifted beside us, uncomfortable. “Maybe this isn’t the time—”

“This is exactly the time,” Tristan said, eyes still on me. “Because I need to know if my brother is about to throw his entire life into the fucking woodchipper over a woman who already has one foot in a federal building.”

“I’m not throwing anything,” I said. “I’m protecting what’s mine.”

“She’s not yours,” Tristan said. “Not in any way that matters. She’s not your wife. Not your ally. Not your guarantee. She’s a wild card. And you know what wild cards do to empire stability? They burn the whole deck.”

“I don’t care.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow.

“I’m telling you now,” I said, and my voice didn’t shake. “If you make me choose between Rosie and the family, I will walk.”

“There is no choosing,” Tristan said. “There’s no walking. We’re your family, Kieran. You don’t get to cut and run.”

A gust of wind blew across the lot, sharp and biting. He stepped in closer, his tone quieter now, but colder. More dangerous.

“You think you’re the only one who cares what happens to them?” he said. “She’s got your blood in her veins. That makes her ours. Ruby too, whether she likes it or not. You think I’m going to let some prosecutor with a martyr complex raise a Callahan daughter without protection?”

My hands curled into fists.

“You don’t get to make that call,” I said.

Tristan just smiled—something dark and wolfish and final. “We’re already making it.”

He looked at Liam, then back to me.

“You want to play house with the DA? Fine. But you better make goddamn sure the doors are locked and the windows don’t rattle. Because if you’re bringing her into this, she’s in. And that means if she fucks up, if she gets soft, if she turns on us—she’s not just your problem. She’s mine.”

I didn’t flinch. “Then I guess you better hope she doesn’t turn.”

He stared at me for a beat, then clapped a hand on my shoulder. Tight grip. Steel beneath the skin.

“I do hope that,” Tristan said. “For your sake. For hers. For Rosie’s.”

Then he let go and turned toward the car, his coat snapping in the wind.

Liam stayed behind a second longer. Gave me a look I couldn’t read. Then followed.

And just like that, I was alone in the snow—my choices crystallizing like frost.

They weren’t just mine anymore.

They were ours.