BLOOD AND PETALS のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 16

Adrian’s hand closed over Elena’s wrist as he led her down the marble corridor. His grip wasn’t harsh, but unyielding a man used to command, not request.“Where are we going?” she asked, voice clipped with nerves.His smile was faint, dry. “A meeting. You’ll sit beside me.”Her steps faltered. “Why?”“Because they need to see you,” he said simply. “They need to see that you’re mine.”The words curled around her like a chain. She swallowed hard but didn’t fight. She couldn’t not now, not when she was still weaving her web of manipulation. Still, dread coiled in her chest as they entered the grand dining hall.Men waited at the long table, their eyes sharp, calculating. The air smelled of cigar smoke and fear. Adrian guided her to the seat at his right, laying a hand briefly at her back a gesture of ownership, of dominance.The meeting began, business spoken in clipped tones about shipments, territories, betrayals. Elena sat silently, hands clenched in her lap. She told herself to sta

Elena left in the hour before dawn, when even monsters slept.The mansion was quiet in a way that felt unnatural, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. She stood barefoot on the cold marble floor, her small bag resting at her feet, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain it would wake him.Adrian.She turned slowly, her eyes drifting to the bedroom doorway.He lay sprawled across the bed, dark hair falling into his eyes, one arm flung over the empty side where she had slept only hours before. Even in sleep, he looked dangerous—too still, too controlled, like a weapon set down but never disarmed.Elena swallowed.“If I stay,” she whispered to herself, “I will disappear.”Her fingers trembled as she reached for the door handle. Memories assaulted her—his voice murmuring her name in the dark, the way his gaze stripped her bare, the way protection felt indistinguishable from possession.She loved him.That was the cruelest truth of all.But love should not feel li

ADRIAN'S POVAdrian had learned many things in the years Elena was gone.He had learned how silence could rot a man from the inside.How power meant nothing when there was no one left to witness it.How obsession, when starved, sharpened into something almost holy.The photograph lay on his desk, its edges already worn from how often he had touched it.Elena stood behind a stall overflowing with flowers, her hair tied back loosely, her face thinner but unmistakable. Beside her stood a boy serious-eyed, dark-haired, his posture alert in a way no child’s should be.Adrian stared at the child the longest.“That’s my son,” he said quietly.No one contradicted him.“You’re certain?” Luca asked, cautious. “We’ve been wrong before.”Adrian’s mouth curved faintly. “I’ve never been wrong about blood.”He stood, shrugging into his coat. “How exposed is she?”“Not very,” Luca replied. “No ties to local crime. Cash transactions. A quiet life.”Adrian paused. That, more than anything, confirmed it