บททั้งหมดของ BLOOD AND PETALS: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Adrian shouldn’t have been standing.The doctor had said six weeks minimum. Luca had said don’t be an idiot. His body said sit the hell down every time he shifted his weight.He ignored all of it.Pain burned white along his ribs as the jet touched down. He braced a hand against the seat, jaw clenched, breath measured so no one would hear the crack in it.Luca watched him from across the aisle. “You’re bleeding through the bandage.”Adrian didn’t look down. “Then stop staring.”“This isn’t bravery,” Luca said quietly. “It’s recklessness.”Adrian finally met his eyes. “Is Elena in custody yet?”Luca exhaled. “Not officially. Australian police are holding the scene. Alec stalled them claimed shock, confusion, whatever he could think of.”“And Mateo?”“Unharmed. Sleeping. Sedated now.”Adrian closed his eyes for a second too long.Good.That was the only word that mattered.When he stood, his vision dimmed. He waited it out, counting breaths like he’d learned after the stabbing. In. Hold

Adrian Volkovwas very good at disappearing.He didn’t change his name this time. Didn’t need to. He just stayed out of reach moving cities every few days, sleeping in places with exits, keeping his phone dark except for Luca.He told himself it was discipline.He told himself it was love.He told himself Elena deserved a life where men didn’t bleed in front of her child.None of that stopped her from finding him.Elena knew the moment she saw the car.Matte black. Too clean. Parked wrong.She slowed her steps, Mateo’s small hand still wrapped around her fingers.“Alec,” she said calmly, not turning. “Take Mateo inside.”Alec stiffened. “Why?”“Because he’s here.”Alec followed her gaze.Across the street, Adrian leaned against the car like he belonged to the night. Thinner. Paler. Alive in that dangerous, barely-holding-it-together way that made Elena’s chest ache.Mateo looked up. “Mama?”She crouched. “Go inside with Alec. Lock the door. I’ll be right there.”Mateo hesitated. “Is it

The burned body wasn’t Isabela.Adrian knew it the moment Luca said Madrid.Isabela Calderón didn’t die anonymously. She didn’t vanish into fire without making sure the ashes landed somewhere painful. If she was dead, she would make sure someone watched it happen.This body was bait.And bait meant timing.“Get me everything,” Adrian said, already moving. “Autopsy window, time of death, accelerant used. I want to know who lit the match and who watched it burn.”Luca followed, matching his pace. “You think she staged it herself?”“No,” Adrian replied. “She outsourced it.”His ribs protested as he climbed into the car, sharp pain flaring up his side. He ignored it. Pain was honest. Betrayal wasn’t.Luca glanced at him. “You’re still bleeding.”Adrian looked down. Blood had seeped through the bandage again, slow and dark.“Then she’s already ahead,” he said. “Drive.”Elena didn’t unpack.She couldn’t.The apartment Adrian had moved her into was secure too secure. Steel doors. Blacked-out

The warehouse smelled like rust, oil, and old blood.Adrian stepped out of the armored SUV slowly, ignoring the way his shoulder screamed beneath the bandages. The night air cut cold across the port, the Mediterranean crashing violently against the concrete docks below like it was warning everyone to leave.He didn’t. He needs to finish this fast before his family gets hurt againElena stepped out behind him before Luca could stop her.“Elena—” Luca started.She shut the door calmly and adjusted the pistol holstered beneath her coat. “Not tonight, Luca.”She was ready to step int this dirty life if it means she gets to live peacefully with her son and maybe with Adrian. Because it seems that even if she runs faraway the wars always have a way of dragging her back.Adrian glanced sideways at her, jaw tight.“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.“You keep saying that,” she replied. "But that decision is not for you to decide.”Luca muttered a curse but signaled the men forward anywa

The house felt different when there were no guards shouting into radios.No gunshots in the distance.No doctors hovering.Just morning light slipping through the curtains.Elena woke up slowly, tangled in warm sheets and something warmer.Adrian.He was already awake.She could feel it.He wasn’t moving, but his breathing was too steady. Too controlled.“You stare too much,” she murmured without opening her eyes.A pause.“I wasn’t staring.”“You were.”Silence.Then, softer“I was making sure you were still here.”Her eyes opened.That voice.Not the mafia boss.Not the cold strategist.Just a man who had almost lost everything.She rolled onto her side, facing him fully. His hair was messy. The scar near his shoulder was still pink from surgery. There were faint shadows under his eyes.“You don’t have to check if I’m breathing every morning,” she whispered.“I do.”“Adrian.”“I wake up expecting it to be gone,” he admitted quietly. “You. This. Peace.”Elena reached up and touched h