Chapter Thirty-Seven
Adrian
The warehouse shower had washed away Noah's blood, the fresh clothes had replaced the tactical gear, but it was crossing this threshold, returning to her , that truly cleansed my soul.
The space welcomed me with familiar warmth.
My piranhas swam their eternal circles in their tank, the city sprawled endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, and there, curled on the massive leather sectional like a sleeping angel, was my entire world.
Isla lay exactly where I'd left her, wearing one of my oversized t-shirts that swallowed her delicate frame.
Her blonde hair spilled across the cushions like liquid gold, and even in sleep, one hand rested near her throat where the white ribbon still encircled her neck.
My mark. My claim. My promise of protection fulfilled .
Isla had one arm flung carelessly over her brother's face, her hand covering his nose in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable.
Crew was snoring softly despite the obstruction, his limbs hanging off the edge of the couch.
"Fucking cute,” I whispered, something in my chest constricting at the sight.
The kid had done good, watched over his sister like the protector I'd known he could be.
But now it was my turn to take over, to reclaim my role as her protector and provider.
I approached the couch with silent steps, my body moving with the fluid grace of a predator who'd successfully defended his territory.
Kneeling beside Isla, I allowed myself a moment to simply observe her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips were slightly parted in sleep, the absolute trust radiating from her even in unconsciousness.
"That can't be comfortable, kid," I murmured, gently lifting Isla's arm off Crew's face.
The boy didn't stir, exhausted from the day's trauma and newfound thirst.
"Time to come to bed, angel.” I slid my arms beneath her with reverent care.
She stirred as I lifted her, her body melting against my chest with the perfect fit of puzzle pieces finding their places.
Her weight was nothing in my arms; she never had been, never would be. I was strong, I was built to cradle the softest of curves.
Every inch of her pressed against me felt like coming home after a war I'd been fighting my entire life.
The bedroom embraced us in shadows and silver moonlight streaming through the windows.
I'd always loved this room—the exposed brick walls, the massive platform bed with its charcoal sheets, the way the city lights painted everything in shades of dreams and desire .
But it had never felt complete until she'd started sleeping here, until her vanilla scent had mingled with the me that defined my space.
I settled onto the bed with her still in my arms, adjusting so she lay partly across my lap, her head resting against my chest where my heartbeat could remind her she was safe.
Her eyelashes fluttered as consciousness began to return, those ocean-blue eyes focusing on my face with sleepy confusion that quickly melted into relief.
"You're back," she whispered, her voice rough with sleep and emotion.
"Always," I promised, my hand finding her hair and stroking through the silken strands. “I’ll always come back to you."
She blinked slowly, awareness creeping in as she registered my changed clothes, the way I held her, the satisfied calm that had replaced the murderous rage she'd last seen.
Her fingers found my jaw, tracing the line with gentle reverence.
"Noah?" The single word carried everything—question, fear, hope.
"Paid for what he did," I answered simply, my voice carrying the finality of a door closing forever. "He'll never be able to touch you or Crew again. Never be able to hurt anyone again."
I watched her process this, saw the moment understanding settled in her eyes.
She didn't ask for details, didn't demand explanations or justifications.
She simply accepted what I'd done as the natural order of our world—that those who threatened what was mine faced consequences beyond their comprehension.
Her response was a soft sigh of relief as she burrowed deeper into my embrace, her arms winding around my waist like she was trying to merge our bodies into one.
"It's over," she breathed against my chest, and I felt the last of her tension drain away.
"It's over," I confirmed, my arms tightening around her. "Just us now, angel. Just our family. "
The word 'family' caught in my throat, thick with emotions I was still learning to name. For twenty-seven years, family had meant pain, betrayal, and survival.
Then Connor and Jax had shown me it could mean loyalty, brotherhood, and protection.
But this, holding Isla while Crew slept safely in the next room, was something else entirely. This was what I'd been searching for without knowing it existed.
We lay in comfortable silence for long minutes, her fingers drawing absent patterns on my chest while I memorized the weight of her against me.
This was peace. This was contentment. This was what normal people felt when they said the word 'home.'
"Adrian?" Her voice was small, curious, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Mmm?"
"I just realized... I still don't know your last name."
She tilted her head to look at me, a sleepy smile playing at her lips.
"I know you told me about Wade Easton adopting you, about how Connor and Jax became your brothers. But you never actually said what name you took."
I chuckled, the sound rumbling through my chest and making her smile widen. "You noticed that, did you?"
“Duh, it’s you,” she said with that matter-of-fact tone that never failed to make my heart dance. "So? What is it?"
I was quiet for a moment, my fingers playing with the ends of her hair as I considered how to explain.
"Connor made up his name," I said finally. "Graves. It suited him with that death and darkness aura he carries. He wanted something that belonged only to him."
She nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. "But you?" she prompted gently.
I smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I chose nothing.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Nothing? ”
"Adrian. That’s all. Clean slate, new beginning, no baggage from a past that nearly destroyed me. I was set free.”
She was quiet for a moment, processing this. Then her fingers found my heart, drawing a simple X surrounded by intricate designs of ink.
“So Adrian has no last name,” she said softly. “That somehow fits you.”
"You think so?"
"Mm-hmm." She traced the ink with delicate touches that sent shivers down my spine.
"Mysterious, dangerous, impossible to predict or control. Just like the man I fell in love with."
The word 'love' made the world brighter every time she said it.
Love wasn't something I'd ever expected to experience, let alone inspire in someone as pure as Isla.
But here she was, wrapped in my arms, declaring her love for a monster in designer jeans.
"There's something else," I said, my voice dropping to that intimate register reserved only for her. "About the name thing."
She looked up at me with curious eyes.
"I want to take yours.”
Her eyes widened, and I watched the meaning sink in, not just that I wanted to marry her, but that I wanted to become part of her family rather than the other way around.
"Adrian," she breathed, her voice thick with emotion.
"Hills," I continued, my thumb tracing over her cheekbone. "Adrian Hills. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Tears gathered in her eyes, making them shine like captured starlight. "You want my name?"
"I want everything that's yours," I confessed, the honesty brutal and beautiful between us.
"Your name, your family, your future. I want to belong to you as completely as you belong to me. "
She was crying now, happy tears that she wiped away with the back of her hand.
"But the free space—it means so much to you. Your fresh start, your independence..."
"Was just the bridge," I interrupted, cupping her face in my hands.
“It was what I needed to become the man worthy of you. But Hills, your name, your legacy, that's what I want to carry forward."
I shifted so we were facing each other completely, her legs tangled with mine, our bodies aligned in perfect symmetry.
The intimacy of the position, the vulnerability in her eyes, the trust she offered me so freely, it all combined to create a moment so perfect it felt sacred.
"I spent my whole life feeling like I was missing pieces," I continued, my forehead resting against hers. "Like I was some broken thing that could never be whole. But you..."
I paused, searching for words adequate to explain what she'd done to me.
“You didn't fix me, angel. You made me realize I was never broken to begin with. Just waiting."
"Waiting for what?" she whispered.
"For you. For this. For the family I was always supposed to have."
Her hands framed my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones with reverent care.
"Are you sure? Really sure? Because once you're a Hills, you're stuck with us. All our flower gardens, soccer games, and Sunday dinners that run too long."
I laughed, the sound bright and genuine in the quiet room.
"Angel, have you met my chosen family? I can handle anything. Besides," I added, my voice growing serious again, "I already have the most important Hills, and she's perfect."
"We can be a little crazy," she warned, but she was smiling.
"Good," I said, kissing the tip of her nose. "Crazy recognizes crazy. I'll fit right in. "
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck while she processed everything I'd just laid at her feet.
I could see her mind working, could practically feel her heart racing against mine where our chests pressed together.
"Adrian Hills," she said finally, testing the name on her tongue. "Adrian Hills and Isla Hills."
"Has a beautiful ring to it," I agreed.
"When?" she asked suddenly, her eyes bright with excitement and possibility.
"When what?"
"When do you want to make it official? Because I'm thinking sooner rather than later, before you change your mind and decide you actually prefer the mysterious thing."
I laughed, rolling us over so she was beneath me, my body caging her against the mattress in a position that was becoming as natural as breathing.
"Angel, I'm not changing my mind about anything that involves you. Ever."
"Good," she said, her arms winding around my neck. "Because I'm already mentally planning the wedding."
"Are you now?" I asked, settling my weight more fully over her, loving the way she fit beneath me like she was made for this exact purpose.
"Mm-hmm. Small ceremony, just family. Your family, my family…”
“It’s perfect," she decided softly, her fingers stroking through my hair with gentle comfort. "It'll be perfect."
We fell into comfortable silence again, the weight of everything we'd just shared settling around us like a warm blanket.
The morning light continued to strengthen, painting geometric patterns across the exposed brick walls and making the city beyond the windows seem less harsh, more hopeful.
I traced lazy patterns on her skin where my t-shirt had ridden up, marveling at the softness of her, the way she shivered under my touch despite the warmth of the room.
"I love you," I said suddenly, the words falling from my lips.
"I love you, too," she replied without hesitation. "All of you. The good, the bad, the absolutely terrifying parts that probably should scare me, but just make me want to crawl inside your skin and live there."
"That's dark, angel," I teased, but my heart was racing at her words.
"I learned from the best," she shot back with a grin that was pure mischief.
I kissed her, slow and deep and thorough, pouring everything I couldn't say into the connection between us.
She tasted like sleep and promises, like the future I'd never dared to imagine for myself.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
"No more running," I said against her lips. "No more walls, no more secrets. Just this, forever."
"Forever," she agreed, sealing the promise with another kiss.
Outside, the city was waking up, traffic beginning to build, people starting their days, the world continuing to turn in its predictable patterns.
But here, in this room, in this bed, time felt suspended.
The past was gone, burned away with Noah's remains. The future stretched ahead of us, bright with possibility.
I held my angel close as the morning light grew stronger, her heartbeat steady against mine, her breathing evening out as contentment pulled her toward sleep again.
She was mine completely. Not just my girlfriend or my obsession, but my partner, my equal, my chosen family.
Adrian Hills, I thought, testing the name in my mind.
It felt right in a way that nothing ever had before. Like coming home after a lifetime of wandering.
"Sleep, angel," I whispered into her hair. "I've got you. "
She drifted off in my arms, and I allowed myself to accept, finally and completely, that this was how the story was supposed to end.
Not with violence or vengeance, but with love. With family.
With the kind of peace that came from finding the one person who looked at all your broken pieces and called them beautiful.
The chaos was over. The healing could begin.
And Adrian Hills, no longer an empty space, finally had a name worth carrying into forever.