“You have some really old pictures here. Hope you don’t mind.” She pulls one out carefully and shows me. “I love old vintage pictures.” A soft smile curves her mouth, one I haven’t seen yet, warm and unguarded.
I drop to the floor next to her, cross-legged. Her scent floods my brain, sweet and sleepy, wrapping tight.
“Look.” She holds up a picture of the old mansion my great-grandfather owned. He stands at the entrance with my great-grandmother, arms linked. The photos are faded, some barely holding colour.
“It’s so impressive how in the old days the pictures had so much feeling, even without any colour in them.” She points to a tree beside them, finger tracing gently. “Look at the leaves.”
I stare. They look happy. In love. Something I’ve never felt. Chest tightens unexpectedly. I glance at her, eyes glowing with excitement, hands moving softly over the images.
“You okay, Flynn?” She asks quietly, staring back, brows knitting slightly.
“Yeah.” The lie slips, but she sees through it, eyes narrowing knowingly.
“Liar.” She leans in slow, kisses me. Not like our usual clashes. This one different: soft, slow. Her hand rests behind my neck, fingers threading warm. I slide mine to the back of her hair, fist loose, letting her tongue slip into my mouth, moving lazily, exploring.
It feels different. Heart beats faster, thudding hard against ribs.
She breaks the kiss, a smile lingering, and turns back to the pictures. “I didn’t know you had a farm.” She says light, and I frown deep, surprise flickering.
“I don’t.” I frown; my family is old money, really old. It stretches back centuries, roots buried deep.
“Isn’t this your great-grandmother?” She shows me a picture, her fingers gentle on the edge. Her, Edith Glove, maiden name intact, standing on a farm with her parents? No, it can’t be.
I snatch the picture up, flip it quickly. Name matches: Edith Glove, 17 years old at the Glove farm. The ink faded but clear.
“Is there more?” My voice cracks frantic now, pulse spiking. Autumn nods slow, her eyes wide, and pulls out another stack. One shows her older, my great-grandfather’s arm wrapped possessively around her waist, hand splayed on her hip.
“So the very rich Brady married a lovely farm girl?” Autumn’s in awe, her gaze soft on the images, lips parting slightly.
“She wasn’t a member.” I murmur low, throat tightening.
“A member of what?” Autumn asks, her head tilting curiously, but I don’t reply. I stand fast, muscles coiling, and pick up my phone and press Kian’s number.
“You better be dying, mate. It’s two a.m.” He groans sleepily, his voice thick.
“I need your help.” I bolt down the stairs to my bedroom, feet pounding. “Pull all the info on my great-grandfather, Ellijah Brady. Especially the wedding certificate.” I hear Kian shift, sheets rustling as he wakes fully.
“Okay, what am I looking for?” Kian’s wide awake now, alert in his tone.
“I think he married a farmer. My great-grandmother. I don’t think she was connected to the Consortium. So if I’m right.” My voice starts to tremble, hand gripping the phone white-knuckled.
“It means you can too,” Kian finishes, breath catching. “Fuck, Flynn. You want to marry Autumn?”
“I’m not killing her. Pretty sure neither of you want that either.” I know they like her, and there’s Viviana. She would never forgive them orDeclan; if they were forced to kill her, there would be a heavy knot forming in my stomach at the thought. Something I haven’t felt since my father died.
“I’ll dig into this. Give me an hour.” Kian hangs up abruptly. I yank on a sweatshirt, fabric pulling over my head, and head to Kaden’s office. I know he’s still there, probably plotting how to get us out unnoticed, make us disappear clean.
“Kaden.” I burst in, door banging. He stands instantly, gun in hand. We’re all on edge, nerves frayed. Who knows what Flanaghan has planned next.
“Fuck, Flynn.” He groans with relief, holstering the gun back.
“There might be a way. If I marry Autumn.” I let it out; my chest tightens.
“Marry Autumn?” He stares at me, brows shooting up like I’m losing my shit. “She’s a civilian.”
“She is, but only if there’s precedent.” I grab the car keys from his desk, metal cold in my palm. “They can’t refuse.” I stare him down hard, jaw set. “I won’t let her die, Kaden.”
He stares back for a beat, eyes softening. “I know.” He moves quickly, grabbing a coat, shrugging it on.
