171 The Photo
171 The Photo
Olivia’s POV
“What’s in here?” I asked curiously, breaking the seal on the envelope.
Gabriel gave a small nod. “See for yourself.”
His face remained unreadable, completely blank–giving nothing away.
I furrowed my brows and slowly pulled out the contents. It was a photo.
One glance, and I froze.
It was a picture of my father… with Sir Damon.
They were standing close, heads slightly bowed in conversation. It looked like the photo had been taken without their knowledge.
My heart raced.
This couldn’t be right.
“When… when was this taken?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Was it before
was arrested? That was four years ago, but…”
My voice faded as I stared at the photo, my heart racing.
my father
My father looked older in this photo. He had a well–groomed, full beard. His black hair was longer now, and there were a few grey strands that hadn’t been there before.
And Sir Damon–he looked exactly as he did now. Not four years younger.
“This… this doesn’t make sense,” I whispered.
My hands shook as I looked up at Gabriel. “What is this? Where did it come from?”
Gabriel stepped closer, his confusion mirroring mine. “I had my spies search Anita’s father’s room. They found it hidden in one of his drawers.”
My mouth opened, but no words came out at first.
This photo–it felt recent. Too recent.
(<171 The Photo
But it couldn’t be.
My father was dead. Burled. Gone.
And yet, in this picture… he looked alive. Dressed neatly in a dark coat, posture strong,
salert. Not like
someone who had been rotting in a grave.
My heart pounded against my ribs.
“What am I seeing?” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
Gabriel stepped closer, sharing my confusion. “I was also confused when I saw this photo.”
I blinked slowly, trying to piece it all together. My throat tightened.
“But my father is dead,” I said again, more firmly this time, as if saying it with enough certainty would make everything make sense.
Gabriel looked at me carefully, the tension in his jaw tightening. “Was he buried?” he asked gently. “Do you know where his grave is?”
I shook my head slowly. “No… I know nothing.” My voice cracked. “We weren’t allowed
to see him. Not after the arrest. Not even after his death.” (2
Tears stung the corners of my eyes.
It had been four long years since I last saw him. And now–this. This photo that didn’t
look old.
“My men are still digging,” Gabriel said softly. “We need to find out where he was buried–or if he was ever buried at all.”
My lips parted, and before I could stop myself, the question spilled out.
“What if he’s still alive?”
It sounded stupid. Ridiculous. Naive. But the second I saw that photo, it was the first thing I felt. Deep in my chest, beneath the pain and disbelief.
Gabriel didn’t laugh. He didn’t even look surprised.
Instead, he stared at me as if trying to feel what I was feeling.
“I’ll look deeper into it,” he said. “I swear I will.”
171 The Photo
The tears broke free, slipping down my cheeks. “But if he’s alive… why wouldn’t he come back to me?” My voice cracked again. “Why wouldn’t he say something? Anything?”
I clutched the photo to my chest like it could hold me together, but I was already falling apart. The tears came harder now, and I turned my face away in shame.
I hated crying.
But Gabriel stepped closer–close enough that I could feel his warmth again. We were still naked, our skin kissed by the fading sunlight and the cold breeze from the leaves.
“I hate seeing you cry,” he said gently. “You don’t deserve this kind of pain, Olivia.”
His voice was low, almost a whisper–but it reached deep inside me.
I looked up at him through blurred vision, and he was just there, looking at me like I
mattered.
And before I knew what I was doing, I moved into him–my arms wrapping around his waist. I buried my face into his chest. His scent surrounded me, calming and strong.
He held me. Carefully. Tenderly.
And for a moment, I didn’t feel so alone.
Then he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. His hand lifted to cup my cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb.
His gaze dropped to my lips.
And then–he kissed me.
My heart skipped a beat.
And I didn’t pull away.
I froze. My mind went blank, my body stiffening as his lips pressed gently against mine.
This wasn’t like I imagined it.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate.
It was soft. Careful. Like he was giving me a chance to pull away.
171 The Photo
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Because the moment I processed what was happening, every ounce of logic vanished.
Gabriel was kissing me–a man who wasn’t one of my mates…
And it felt so damn good.
And it felt so good.
Slowly, my body responded. My lips moved hesitantly against his, my hands gripping
his hair.
Gabriel’s kiss deepened, and I let it.
His mouth was warm against mine, his hands firm on my waist, and the world melted away in the heat of the moment.
His scent, his breath, the gentle pressure of his lips–it was all too much and not enough.
Then, suddenly, a thought slipped into my mind like a crack in glass.
The triplets.
They would feel this.
The bond between us would carry it straight to them–my breathlessness, the racing
of my heart, the electric heat spreading through my body.
And for a second, I hesitated. I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve stopped.
But I didn’t.
Because the very thought of them feeling this–feeling what I felt when they fucked Anita on our wedding night–lit something wild inside me.
I wanted them to feel it. Let them ache. Let them taste even a piece of the pain they
gave me.
A soft moan slipped from my lips as I pressed into Gabriel, kissing him der–with need, not regret.
171 The Photo
His hands gripped my waist, responding to the sudden change, and I gasped against his lips.
I wanted them to feel it.
I needed them to feel it.
Gabriel groaned low in his throat as he pressed me backward until my back met the rough bark of a tree. My breath hitched, but I didn’t stop him. I wrapped my arms tighter around his shoulders, grounding myself in him.
He lifted one of my legs, hooking it around his waist without breaking the kiss. His palm slid up my thigh, anchoring me there as he kissed me like I was the only thing he saw–like I was his.
The forest around us was still, but inside me, everything was burning.
I didn’t care if someone saw us.
I didn’t care about rules or shame or bonds.
All I cared about was this–how he made me feel seen, wanted, alive. 1
But then–suddenly–a sharp, searing pain shot through my chest.
I gasped.
Voices echoed in mind.
“Olivia!”
“Where are you?”
my
“What are you doing–what is this pain?”
The triplets.
I stilled against Gabriel’s body, breathing heavily, the mind link buzzing in my head like static. Their emotions poured in–confusion, hurt, anger. Pain.
But I didn’t answer.
I smirked instead, slowly pulling my mind away from theirs until the lir snap, cutting them off.
‘osed with a
171 The Photo
I blocked them from communicating with me.
I turned my gaze back to Gabriel, my voice barely a whisper. “I want more.
His eyes darkened.
A slow, knowing smirk curled on his lips.
“Then I’ll give you more,” he whispered back.
The second kiss was slow, but the heat between us intensified. Gabriel groaned between kisses, pulling me closer as his hands gripped my waist. I moaned into his mouth, the sound spilling from me without thought as I felt his hardness pressing against my stomach.
Driven by instinct, my hand slid down between us. The moment my fingers wrapped around his hardness, Gabriel broke the kiss with a guttural grunt, his eyes blazing with desire as they locked onto mine.
“You’re driving me insane,” he growled, his voice rough and full of need.
I smirked, leaning closer until my lips brushed his ear. “Then show me.”
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