Page 94 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

For a while we didn’t move. Sean stayed inside me, getting softer slowly, our bodies still locked together. The room was filled with the sound of our breathing, which got slower and quieter. The morning light went higher across the bed, shining on the sweat on Sean’s shoulder. I drew a circle on his skin with my finger, feeling the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart against mine.

Sean laid beside me, pulling me into his chest without letting me go completely. One arm went around my waist, heavyand strong in a way that felt new. His other hand found mine, our fingers intertwining.

There was silence again. It was different now, not scary like before. This silence felt full and necessary. The walls between Sean and me were gone now. There was no going back after what just happened, not after the way Sean touched me like I was the only thing that kept him in the world.

I closed my eyes and let the quiet settle over us, knowing that when we got up from the bed, everything would be different. I stayed still for a long time.

Sean lay beside me, close in a way that no longer felt temporary.

Even in sleep, he didn’t leave space between us the way he used to. There were no careful gaps anymore, no invisible rules keeping us apart. I stared at the ceiling and listened.

My hand moved slightly against the sheets.

A small motion. Sean reacted without waking fully. His breathing changed and his weight adjusted a little, like his body registered me even in sleep. That should have felt strange.

It didn’t. I turned my head toward him.

He wasn’t fully relaxed. His sleep looked controlled, like he never dropped into it completely. Like rest passed through him instead of taking him.

Before, I would have called it control. Now it looked like habit. Something built over time and never switched off.

I let out a slow breath. Nothing else mattered right now. Not my father or Anton.

Just me and Sean, finally close.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sean

Maeve was eager to tell me everything she’d discovered. She had papers spread across the table between us—notes, names, and connections.

She looked tired by the end of her explanation, like she’d spent all her resources putting pieces together and still wasn’t sure whether the picture made sense.

“So Gabrielle is connected to all of them somehow,” she said.

I looked down at the papers. Then back at her. “I know.”

Maeve blinked. “What?”

“I know.”

For a second she simply stared at me. The reaction was almost funny. She’d expected resistance—an argument, or maybe even denial.

I leaned back in my chair. “You weren’t wrong about any of it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You knew this whole time?”

“No. But I figured out Gabrielle was part of it based on when she came back into the picture.”

The frustration disappeared immediately. “Sean, there’s was a fifth person I can’t identify. Someone on the inside.”

I nodded once. Maeve waited. I could practically see the questions building in her head. Finally I said it.

“It’s Declan.”

The silence that followed lasted several seconds. She looked genuinely shocked. “Declan?”

“Yes.”