When Was Stefan Salvatore Born Novels & Stories

I promised her that I will always keep her safe. When I was 10, Fabiano and I would go to shooting ranges to practice. He always made sure that no one in the building knew about my training. I studied hard in school and I learned every language I could possibly learn. Marina and I would stay late at night to practice speaking in different languages. We prepared ourselves for the worst. I was 14 when Salvatore became a Made Man. His training paid off and he was soon known for his outstanding skills when using a knife. People commonly refer to him as “The Slasher”. Shitty name, I know. He killed his first man by slitting his throat. I pretended to feel sick but deep inside, I liked it. Marina

“How’s everything going? I heard you’re seeing someone.” “You mean… like a hallucination?” He narrows his eyes at me. I crack up. “No,” I say, lightly punching his arm. “I know you’re ready to get back out there. You just haven’t admitted it yet.” “No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Dating isn’t for me.” Salvatore is the only one in the Red Fang clan who had his fated mate the first time, and only her, for most of his life. She died. Left him with a little boy who died not long after.

An elderly man right beside Alexia speaks first and it moves on till it reaches him, he looks Alexia up and down and he smirks and says, “We met this morning, it’s like destiny, or should I say fate? I should have introduced myself then, but it skipped me because I couldn’t think straight when I saw you.” Alexia smiles in his direction and nods her head. She wipes her palms slowly in her trousers so, it isn’t obvious that she is nervous. The young man continues when she doesn’t say a thing, “My name is Damon Salvatore. The CEO of Salvatore Gold company.” Alexia replies to him, with a blank expression,

"Thirty days, Mr. Hamilton. Twelve million dollars. That's more than generous considering you tried to fake your death to avoid paying me." "I didn't fake my death! Someone drugged me! Someone tried to kill me!" "Perhaps." Salvatore's tone said he didn't believe it. "Or perhaps your plan simply went wrong. Perhaps you took too many sedatives. Perhaps your accomplices made mistakes." He paused. "Either way, you're alive. Which means you pay." "Please," I said, my voice breaking perfectly. "Mr. Salvatore, he just woke up. Give us time to figure out what happened. To find out who did this—"

Travis was waiting for them by a bookshelf-concealed safe that was open. Maybe he couldn't be much more of a stereotype. Get comfortable. When Salvetti hesitated in extending an offer, he was pushed aside. To paraphrase, "Please, I don't, d-d-don't know a-a- any - " Taking out a switchblade, Salvetti spun it between his fingers. You approved the Sicilianos' forged adoption papers around fifteen to sixteen years ago. Salvetto leaned closer, fiddling with the switchblade, his palm braced on Mason's shoulder. My question is, "Why?"

I say and he laughs for the umpteenth time. Surely, I’m not that funny. “You’re right,” he says, but in a more serious tone, he speaks again. “I’m alive today because of you. I might be an evil person, but I will never forget the person that saved my life.” “Thank you,” I breathe. “Alright. I’ll make the call. And don’t worry, I’ll tell him you’re one of my best. Trained well, loyal, discreet, and expensive.” For Salvatore, everything eventually boils down to money.

Salvatore Salvatore pulled Alexa closer in the back seat of the car as Clayton drove. Their flight had landed only a few minutes ago at Bradford, Inc.’s private hanger at the airport. Alexa had slept for most of the flight, and Salvatore was exhausted as well. They’d filled their honeymoon with adventures he would remember for the rest of his life. His brother, Eric, had been the one to push Salvatore out of his comfort zone before he died. When his brother was gone, he’d lost the will to have fun.

"No. He thought she left him because Antonio threatened her. Carlo was devastated, and he tried to find her, but Antonio made sure that didn't happen." I flipped through more documents: There were surveillance photos of my mother with Carlo, FBI case files with large portions redacted, and a picture of a man I assumed was Michael Sutherland; a man whose eyes looked eerily similar to mine. "How do you know all of this?" I suddenly demanded. Salvatore hesitated at first, then he reached for his wallet. He pulled out an ID card and slid it across the table. FBI Special Agent Robert Stefano, it read. "Because I'm just like her," he said quietly. "I've been undercover with the Romanos for twenty

Carlo Salvatore was a man of contradictions, a monster whom many mistook for a saint, a killer. Standing at 6'4", he carried himself like the beast he was. His skin was a drawing board of violence, marked by knife scars from knife fights and gunshot wounds. A black spiderweb tattoo crawled up the left side of his neck, with which an inscription of a faded barcode LF-117, was covered. The barcode and the spiderweb tattoo were the only remnants of a past he’d burned to the ground.

" I suggest sarcastically, scrolling through I*******m to see pictures of tons of pretty girls enjoying life and having fun. I'd give anything to live this kind of life now. "If only it were that easy. Put the phone down Arianna." He commands, stuffing his hands in his pocket. "Like I said, Mateo is the best officer in his field, went to one of the best military schools in America at the age of sixteen. Went to an army school again at 25. Been working as a detective for over 9 years." "If he is so amazing like this, why become a detective?" I ask Salvatore, crossing my arms under my boobs making them puff out more not mistaking the way he tensed when he looks at me. I guess I'm getting my re