The Triplet Alphas' Secret Mate

Chapter 188: The Painting

​Liam POV

​"Fucking no way!" I gasped.

​The chair behind me hit the floor with a loud crash, the sound echoing through the sudden silence of the ballroom. Several people turned to look at me, but I didn’t care. The entire room could have caught fire right then, and I wouldn’t have blinked. My eyes were glued to the canvas under the bright spotlight.

​My breath caught in my throat, cutting off my air.

​The painting was beautiful, but it wasn’t a fantasy scene. It was a memory. A very specific, private memory from our childhood that nobody else in the world could possibly know.

​The canvas showed a massive, ancient oak tree under a bright blue sky. High up on one of the top branches, a little girl with long, wild chocolate hair was trapped. Her tiny hands gripped the bark, her face painted with a mix of fear and excitement, terrified to jump down.

​And directly below her were three identical young boys.

​My eyes watered as I stared at the details. One boy was already halfway up the trunk, his hands and knees scraped up as he climbed frantically to reach her. I choked back a breath. I knew that boy was me. I was always the one who couldn’t wait, the one who had to climb up to get her myself.

​Beside the tree trunk, the second boy was standing with one hand stretched out high in the air, his expression calm and steady, gesturing for her to just take his hand so he could guide her down safely. That was Leo. Always the grounded one, trying to be reasonable.

​And the third boy—Leonard—was standing right at the base, his arms thrown completely wide open, a bright, confident grin on his face. You could almost hear him yelling through the paint, daring her to just let go and jump, promising he would catch her no matter what.

​It was the summer we turned ten. Scarlett had climbed too high trying to rescue a bird, and the three of us had nearly lost our minds trying to get her down. We had never told a soul about that day.

​To anyone else in this room, it was just a sweet, nostalgic painting of children playing by a talented artist named ’Faceless.’

an abstract guess. The artist knew our faces. She knew

organizer asked, stepping

sleeping for five years, suddenly slammed against the walls of my mind, howling

my wolf roared, his voice filled with a manic, desperate energy. She’s alive, Liam! She painted this! Only she

dark, terrifying growl that

sir!" he stammered, his hands shaking. "As the auctioneer said, she goes by ’Faceless.’ Everything was handled through her manager via email and private couriers. We’ve never

my hands onto the table, cracking the polished wood

even

to the painting. The detail was too perfect. It was her. Scarlett was out there. She was alive, and she was hiding behind the name

a mind link

the moment they connected, not giving them a chance to speak. "Drop whatever the hell you are doing and come to the city gallery ballroom right

a treaty meeting, I’m not in

as I stared at the painted memory of our childhood. "Scarlett is alive. And she

Leonard’s voice slammed into my head through the mind link, sharp and vibrating with a mix of exhaustion and sudden shock. "Scarlett

sheer force of my mental voice making both of my brothers wince on the other end.

as always, though I could

at the canvas, staring into the painted eyes of the little girl stuck in the tree. I stared at the young version of Leonard with his arms wide open, and the young version of Leo offering a steady hand. The reality of it was burning through my veins like liquid fire. They hadn’t seen it yet. If they

for me at the pack house," I snapped, cutting them both off. "I am bringing her message to you. I’m

sharp flick of my wrist, I severed the mind link, shutting out their

absolute, heavy and suffocating. Hundreds of high-society wolves, powerful politicians, and wealthy pack members were all staring at me. Some looked terrified, their instincts telling them to cower under the suffocating pressure of my Alpha aura. Others just looked deeply confused, whispering behind their hands as they tried to figure out why the supreme Alpha of the pack had just cracked a mahogany table and started snarling at

stood frozen on the stage, his microphone halfway to his mouth, completely unsure of how to proceed with a

the heavy wood scraping loudly against the marble floor. I didn’t care about their whispers. I didn’t care about the scandal or what