Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 352: Mine, Even in Ruin

–Livana–

I knew it was a trap.

And still—I stepped into it.

Some snares are not avoided. They are studied... then dismantled from within.

I entered the room with my armed men, Logan and Jane at my side, both masked. They had been holding Damon and Caine for three days now.

I hadn’t expected restraint. Not from people like them. I assumed brutality, impatience—violence as their native language.

But they kept them alive. Untouched, for the most part.

A mistake.

Because if they had truly hurt them—

I would have made sure they learned what suffering actually meant.

I removed my mask just as the cameras flickered. Lore had already infiltrated their system. The doors opened for us as if the place itself had bowed. The guards froze—confused, awaiting orders that never came.

Power doesn’t always roar.

Sometimes—it paralyzes.

I stepped into the conference room. Leaders filled the screens—faces framed in polished authority, gathered in their little digital kingdom.

And at the center—

Kelly.

Of course.

She stood at the podium, the quiet architect of this gathering.

I let my gaze sweep across the monitors, memorizing every expression, every flicker of fear poorly concealed.

"Everyone," I said lightly, a smile curving my lips, "your Queen has arrived."

Beside me, I heard Logan nearly choke on a laugh.

Kelly stared. Unmoving.

"I’m kidding," I added with a soft chuckle. "But you received my gifts, didn’t you?"

Silence.

Their faces—blank canvases stretched too tightly over panic.

"Queen, we can negotiate," the President of Nepal spoke.

Ah.

One of my more... fragile files.

"Release our men," I said, my tone turning absolute. "All of them."

A pause.

"I don’t negotiate."

"But your family—" the President of America began.

I turned my head sharply, my gaze slicing through the screen.

"I hold information that could ignite a civil war across your states, Mr. President," I said quietly. "Your own men would turn against you... the moment they discover what you truly are."

My eyes lingered, deliberate.

"And you dared to use one of my pawns..."

I stepped closer to Kelly, my fingers brushing her shoulder—light, almost affectionate.

"I do not forgive betrayal."

"You possess dangerous technology," the Prime Minister of Britain spoke, voice steady beneath strain. "Of course we planned to destroy you."

"How predictable," I murmured. "Did the Queen advise you on this, Prime Minister?"

A beat.

"I want her on the line."

Then—

The doors opened.

Damon.

Caine.

They were brought in.

Pale. Lips dry. Bodies rigid with exhaustion.

Something inside me tightened—sharp, violent.

Their black tank tops clung to them, outlining strength that had not yet broken.

Damon...

Still infuriatingly beautiful.

Even now.

Especially now.

I walked toward them, my movements calm—too calm.

Then I tore my husband’s shirt open.

Fabric gave way.

Bruises bloomed beneath—purple, black, ugly against his skin.

My breath stilled.

I did the same to Caine.

Damage catalogued.

Noted.

Remembered.

"Now I feel very exposed," Caine muttered dryly.

But Damon—

He was grinning.

Looking at me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

As if he hadn’t just been dragged through hell.

Idiot.

Mine.

"Hands," I snapped.

Logan moved instantly toward Kelly.

"Give me the hands of those who hurt them," I continued, my voice sharpening into something lethal. "And the tongue of the one who gave the order."

Kelly didn’t move.

"Did you command it?" Logan asked, voice low, dangerous.

She didn’t even blink.

Of course she didn’t.

She wasn’t the one.

I lifted my gaze to the screens.

Three of them.

I already knew.

Red laser dots appeared—steady, unshaking—pressed against their heads.

They froze.

Panic, finally.

"You can’t do this!" one of them hissed, her voice unraveling in a language she thought might shield her.

"Queen," Damon called softly. "Killing isn’t your style, my love."

"Torture is," I replied, just as softly.

A promise.

A certainty.

"We’re leaving," I said. Then, to the cameras—

"If any of us are harmed..."

I smiled faintly.

"It will be the end of all of you."

My men removed the cuffs from Damon and Caine.

Jane turned, giving Kelly a look—sharp, knowing. She paused midway when a voice cut through our comms.

"At least take Kelly with you!" David exclaimed. "Take that traitor!"

I stilled.

Then I shook my head.

No.

Not yet.

Kelly and I had an understanding.

"Ignore it," I commanded.

I stepped closer to her, lifting her chin between my fingers.

"You’ll pay for this," I murmured with a smirk.

Then I turned away.

We walked out surrounded—guns, eyes, tension thick as a drawn blade.

We could have died there.

We should have.

But the red dots remained steady on their leaders’ heads.

And fear...

Fear is the strongest leash of all.

They had no choice.

They let us go.

–Lore–

"Fuck! Why didn’t you take her?!"

He keeps throwing tantrums like a malfunctioning unit—loud, relentless, zero cooldown.

"We can’t do that," I say, voice low, controlled—like I’m diffusing a live grenade. "You can hunt her once this operation is over."

"What if she dies?" he hisses, sharp and desperate. "We can’t have that!"

Yeah. No kidding.

I don’t have full access to Livana’s playbook—hell, nobody does—but I’ve got the King’s Men on live tracking. Their helicopter blinks across my screen, a moving pulse of green in a sea of threats.

Jane. Logan. Livana. Caine. Damon.

All in that bird.

And every second they’re airborne feels like a coin flip.

Missiles. Interception. Mechanical failure. A bad gust of wind on a worse day.

And Livana—

She’s pregnant.

One mistake, one wrong variable, and everything collapses.

My finger hovers an inch above the execute key. Dead man’s switch. If anything happens to them, I push it—and every file, every secret, every rotten truth gets dumped to the press. Global broadcast. No survivors in reputation.

Mutually assured destruction.

Alyssa’s hand tightens on my shoulder. I can feel it through the fabric—warm, tense. She’s scared.

David?

Dead silent. For once.

We wait.

Seconds stretch. Systems hum. Rotors slice through audio feeds like distant thunder.

Then—

The helicopter lands. Safe. Warehouse secured.

I exhale, leaning back slightly, rerouting my focus to the nests currently under siege.

Feeds flicker.

Bodies everywhere.

Traitors.

Some still slumped in swivel chairs, like they died mid-command. Others—dragged, scattered, abandoned. We already evacuated the loyal ones. Clean extraction. Minimal loss.

The army that raided the nests?

They froze.

Gas deployment—automatic.

Toxic payload released through the vents. They came prepared with masks—standard protocol.

But not for the secondary trigger.

Explosion.

Chain reaction.

Gone.

Just like that.

All connections drop. Static. Black screens.

I turn to David.

He hasn’t moved.

Not an inch.

His eyes are locked on one feed—Kelly.

She’s in the middle of a podium, surrounded. But not by our men. Different uniforms. Government, maybe. Hard to tell through the distortion.

Captured.

Transferred.

Prison.

David moves suddenly—fingers flying across the keyboard. Tracking. Hijacking. Overriding feeds like he’s possessed.

He locks onto the location.

One of the armed men raises his gun.

Fires.

The sound cracks through the speakers—sharp, final.

I watch David break in real time.

Slow. Silent.

Like a system shutting down piece by piece.

That’s the end of Kelly.

I look away.

Alyssa steps in, wrapping her arms around him.

David doesn’t sob. Doesn’t scream.

But the tears?

They fall anyway. Quiet. Relentless.

None of us knew he’d fallen that hard.

"Is this the end now?" Alyssa asks softly.

I shake my head.

Negative. Mission far from over.

"They’ll come after us," I say, eyes scanning new data streams. "No way they fold this easily."

Now they understand Livana.

And that makes her more dangerous than ever.

She doesn’t just play the game—

She builds the board.

Chess pieces everywhere.

Always ten moves ahead.

A red light suddenly blares across the system—

LAB BREACH DETECTED.

I don’t even flinch.

Calm. Steady.

They’re too late.

All clones? Already extracted.

And the special one?

Delivered.

Right on schedule.

"Does she have a family?" David asks out of nowhere, voice rough. "Kelly... is that even her real name?"

I pull up her records—layers of encrypted history peeling back under my access.

"She’s an orphan," I say, sending the files to his screen. "Victim of human trafficking."

His jaw tightens. Eyes still red.

"If she was working for Livana... why did she betray her?"

I pause.

Because that answer?

Classified.

Even for him.

And if he knows too much—

He won’t just break.

He might ruin everything.

–Damon–

I sank into the tub filled with ice, the cold biting into my skin—sharp, numbing, necessary.

Across from me, my wife stood composed.

Too composed.

But I know her.

Every inch of her.

Every silence.

She was holding it back.

Her gaze lingered on my bruises, darkening along my skin—but they were nothing.

Nothing compared to the bruises carved into my chest the day I lost her.

I extended my hand.

She didn’t hesitate.

She stepped closer and took it.

I brought her fingers to my lips, pressing a slow kiss against them. She sat at the edge of the tub, close enough for me to feel her warmth against the cold that surrounded me.

Alive.

Here.

Mine.

My hand moved to her stomach, resting there—over the small, growing curve. I shifted closer despite the ice, steadying my breathing, keeping control as I pressed a soft kiss against her.

Then higher.

Closer.

Until I buried my face against her, arms wrapping around her waist.

Grounding myself in her.

"What will happen to Kelly?" I asked quietly.

"They’ll kill her," Livana replied, calm—too calm. "She holds too much information. She’s likely already dead."

I exhaled slowly.

"David will be devastated."

"He already is," she murmured, fingers slipping into my hair, soothing, steady. "But now isn’t the time."

I inhaled her scent—familiar, addictive.

Sweet.

Floral.

And beneath it—

Something dangerous.

Something that belongs only to her.

My wife.

My ruin.

My lips brushed against her neck, slow, deliberate.

"Can we stay like this?" I murmured. "Just... a little longer."

"Yes," she answered softly.

"I’ll be careful," I whispered, my lips finding hers—slow, controlled, like I was memorizing her all over again.

She hummed faintly in response.

And for a moment—

Everything else disappeared.

"So... Kelly," I asked again, quieter now.

"One of the King’s Men," she said. "She wanted to retire."

I pulled back slightly, studying her.

"What is she? Who is she?"

My hand traced slowly along her back, grounding myself in the feel of her.

"She was a victim," Livana said. "Human trafficking. She was ten."

My jaw tightened.

"She was rescued at fourteen. Being auctioned... for her virginity."

The water around me felt colder.

Sharper.

"I was the same age as her when we met. Mother introduced her to me—to make her feel safe. She was already one of the King’s Men back then."

"So she started young," I muttered.

"Yes," Livana said. "I don’t blame her. She needed an outlet. A way to survive it."

Her fingers moved down to my chin, lifting my face toward her.

God—

She’s dangerous when she looks at me like that.

"She’s not a traitor," she continued. "She just wanted out. But her last mission... was finding that Elite Society."

Her thumb brushed slowly across my lips.

Even in freezing water—

I burned.

"It’s her mission," Livana whispered, "to destroy them herself."

I held her gaze.

"I understand."

A pause.

Then, quieter—

"Stay with me a little longer," I murmured.

My voice dropped, something raw slipping through.

"I just... need you."

There’s something almost ironic about it.

A king.

Feared.

Untouchable.

And yet here I am—

Asking.

For her.

Because no matter what I am to the world—

To her—

I’m just a man who would burn everything—

Just to keep her close.