**Chapter Nine: She's Salvatore**

**Adrian's POV**

*What do you want?*

The question had been sitting between us for three days now, unanswered, the kind of silence that says more than words would.

The last signature dried black on the contract in front of me. I set the pen down slowly and let the quiet settle over the room. Twelve men sat around the table, waiting for me to say something.

"Done."

Within a week, every Salvatore shipment would be running through routes my people already controlled. Their allies would keep shaking my hand across boardroom tables, never realizing they were feeding information straight into my empire piece by piece.

One clause in the contract mattered more than all the others combined. Celine Salvatore now belonged to me — her name, her future, her body, all of it. She would live from now on as Samantha Dela Cruz. Any attempt to reach back into her old life would count as a breach of the agreement, and the price of breaching it was death. I'd made sure of that clause myself.

The rain had already started by the time I left the building. One of my men stepped forward with an umbrella, and I waved him off without slowing down. I got into the back seat and watched the city smear into streaks of grey and gold through the rain-soaked window.

I found myself thinking about her again — the way she'd looked at me over the last few days, like she was still trying to work out whether I was a monster or something worse. She had courage, even when her hands shook badly enough that she couldn't hide it. She argued when she should have gone quiet. She asked ‘why’ in a world where everyone else had learned a long time ago not to ask anything at all.

And then there was the kiss.

I hadn't planned it. She'd stepped in too close, furious, daring me to do something about it, and before I'd fully decided to, my hand was already at her jaw. Even now I couldn't explain why I'd let it happen. I only knew it hadn't been about weakness. If anything, it was the opposite.

*Damn it, Adrian! She's Salvatore. Blood of the men who erased your sister.*

The car slowed as we reached the gates. The mansion came into view through the rain, dark stone, glass running floor to ceiling, the whole place built to look like it belonged to someone who didn't need to explain himself to anyone. The gates opened and I got out before the guard could reach my door, the rain hit me cold and hard the second I stepped onto the driveway.

That was when I saw her.

She was standing out in it, soaked through, near the side garden under one of the tall trees, like she'd tried to run and then simply run out of anywhere to go. She looked cold. Small. Like whatever fight she'd had in her earlier that day had burned itself out somewhere between the mansion and that tree.

The courtyard went quiet the moment I stepped into it.

Our eyes met, something in me reacted faster and harder than I wanted it to. Her face still had that same look — frightened, yes, but underneath it was something else that refused to fully give in. Like she'd rather stand there in the rain and freeze than let me see her break.

Her lips parted like she was about to say something, then didn't.

Good. I preferred there to be some fight left in her before I dealt with it.

The closer I got, the more her situation seemed to settle over her. I could see it landing, piece by piece, in her expression. Something in me almost hesitated. Almost. A flicker of something that wasn't part of the plan, gone as fast as it came. She wasn't here for me to feel anything about. She was a weapon, nothing more, and I intended to use her exactly that way.

I reached her and took hold of her arm, pulling her toward the house without a word. She was drenched through, and some part of me registered that she'd get sick standing out here much longer, which irritated me more than it should have. She belonged to me now. I wasn't going to let her ruin herself out of stubbornness before I'd even decided what use she'd be.

"No, no, where are you taking me?" Her voice shook, but there was still an edge to it, still that same refusal to just go quietly. "Let me go!"

Something passed between us the second my hand closed around her arm, sharp, unexpected. I didn't stop to think about what it meant.

"Where are you taking me? Let me go!" She asked again, louder this time, more desperate, digging her heels in as we got closer to the house.

"You're hurting me!"

My men pulled the door open ahead of us. I brought her inside and shut it behind me, cutting off the rain and her voice from the rest of the courtyard in the same motion.

She flinched back from me the second we were alone.

"Did they pay you to finish the job already?" she asked, breathing hard. "I always thought you were working with the Salvatores."

She turned and started hitting the window with the flat of her hands, like anyone outside would hear her over the storm.

"Help—"

My patience ran out. I caught her wrist before she could get another word out, turned her toward me, and put a hand over her mouth. Her cries turned into muffled, panicked sounds against my palm, her eyes wide with fear.

I pressed two fingers against the side of her neck, just under her jaw, holding steady until her body went slack against me a few seconds later.

She sagged into my arms, unconscious, and for a moment she looked almost peaceful, too peaceful for someone who'd been screaming at me a breath earlier. I carried her up the stairs to one of the guest rooms on the second floor, large, comfortable, and secure enough that there was no version of tonight where she woke up and simply walked out of it. I laid her down on the bed. Her dress was still soaked through, and I called for the Nanny to come deal with it and keep watch until she woke.

Rosa arrived a few minutes later, one of the older maids who'd worked for my family longer than I'd been running it myself. She looked at the woman lying unconscious on the bed, then at me standing by the door, and didn't ask the obvious question.

"Adrian," she said quietly, eyes down. "Should I call for the doctor?"

"No, nanny" I said. "Just get her into something dry and stay with her. If she wakes up and causes trouble, let me know at once."

Rosa nodded and went to the closet without another word. She pulled out a plain nightdress and got to work, I turned my back to give the room what privacy it could still offer, though I didn't leave.

"She's very beautiful," She said, low, almost to herself.

I kept my eyes on the rain running down the window instead of answering right away.

"She's Salvatore," I said eventually. "That's the only useful thing left about her."

She finished what she was doing in silence for a moment before asking, carefully, "Will she be staying long?"

"She's staying for good," I said. "Whether she wants to or not."

She pulled the blanket up over her once she'd finished, then stepped back and folded her hands in front of her.

"Should I bring her something when she wakes? Tea, maybe, something warm."

I looked over at the bed. Sam's — Samantha's — face had gone slack and quiet now, none of the fear from a few minutes ago left in it.

"Bring her whatever she asks for," I said. "Nothing sharp. Nothing she could use against anyone. And the door stays locked whenever you're not in the room."

"Sure."

She hesitated at the door, then said, quiet enough I almost missed it, "She looks frightened."

I didn't have an answer for that one. I looked at the old woman who had been a part of my life from childhood, then the lady on the bed, my wife on paper, my leverage against a family that had taken more from me than they'd ever understand, my possession, whatever word fit best depending on the day.

Rosa bowed slightly and let herself out, closing the door behind her without another word.

I stood there alone for a while after that. The rain kept going against the glass. I stepped closer to the bed and looked down at her, at the damp hair stuck to her forehead, and reached out before I'd fully decided to, brushing it back off her face.

She stirred but didn't wake.

I pulled my hand back sharply, irritated at myself for the gesture. She wasn't here to be looked after. She was here because she was useful, and nothing about that had changed in the last five minutes.

My phone buzzed again. A message.

*Unidentified graves found*

I looked back at her sleeping form.

If you're still out there… I'll find you.