Flash Marriage: In His Eyes

Chapter 355: The Queen’s Love

Chapter 355: The Queen’s Love–Logan–

Just like Livana said—there’s a mole slithering around. My instincts kicked in, razor sharp. I scanned the room, every twitch, every bead of sweat, every damn breath. Body language doesn’t lie. My wife was at the helm, cool as steel, gun drawn, submarine under control. Everyone froze when she leveled the weapon.

She aimed at one of the bodyguards—some leader’s lapdog from whatever continent. Don’t ask me which, because I don’t give a damn. That’s when I caught it: his thumb tapping nervously on a ring. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Rookie mistake.

I closed in, grabbed his hand, and there it was—a smart ring. Fitness tracker, supposedly. I leaned in, voice low, lethal:

"I’m gonna cut your finger off."

The room went dead silent. Gasps, murmurs, eyes wide. I yanked the device free and handed it to my wife. She holstered her weapon, speaking in a language I couldn’t decipher. Didn’t matter. She sounded dangerous, sexy, and pissed—my favorite combination. Her curses at me are poetry.

She smashed the ring. Inside, a tracker. My gut was right. She stared at it, calculating. The tuxedoed president of that country babbled in his tongue, but my wife cut him off: it was a beacon, a kill-switch for the syndicate. One ping, and we’d all be corpses.

Not today. Lore confirmed the signal was gone. Everyone disarmed. Crisis neutralized.

"It’s gone now," Lore muttered. "Jane spotted it. Good eye, sis."

Jane grumbled, turned her back.

"Destroy their base," she said flatly.

"Already on it. Ghost will level the facility in ten minutes, tops."

We moved to another site. Private planes lined up, engines hot. Their bodyguards jittery, ours thorough—no hijacks, no surprises. We made sure they boarded safe. Pilots? Our pawns now. Their protectors, bought and paid for by the contracts they signed.

One by one, the planes lifted off. Behind them, Ghost reduced the syndicate’s lab to rubble. Ghost is the backbone of this team—climbed her way up, never failed a mission. Not Livana’s henchman like me, but the scalpel that cuts deep. I admire her. Hell, I hope she gets a quiet retirement someday.

"Should we send Ghost flowers? Maybe a basket?" I joked.

Jane chuckled, sharp as a blade.

"Ghost? What is she, your ex-girlfriend?" Sarcasm dripping.

I laughed, threw an arm around her.

"You’ll know soon enough." Kissed her cheek, steered her back to the sub. Livana’s safety is priority one. She’s carrying heirs—triplets. We can’t afford risks. Not now. Not ever.

*****

–Lore–

Shit. Ghost almost blacked out—hell, she even puked somewhere along the way. Don’t ask me how that happens when she’s supposed to be immune to everything. Anyway, she cleared the zone before the birds lifted off. Facility went boom right after.

Look, we don’t care if the staff were just punching the clock, but threatening world leaders—and our Queen, who’s carrying triplets—is a hard no. Non-negotiable. Besides, those clowns back there were grinding my nerves. They should shut up and sign the damn peace papers instead of piling more ops on my desk.

Damn, this is getting old.

I barely get time with my fiancée. Couldn’t even take care of her properly. And yeah, I’m impatient—really impatient. Now these assholes made me worse.

I leaned back against the headrest.

"It’s done?" she asked.

I nodded. "For now." Exhale.

She handed me a glass of water. I downed it like a soldier after a desert march. Didn’t realize I was dehydrated. Handed the glass back, looked at her.

"I also need a kiss."

She giggled, leaned in, and kissed me. Pineapple. Sweet. Damn, I swear it’ll taste the same when I lick and suck her—

"Centaur!" Livana’s voice cut in.

"Yes, my Queen?"

"Monitor our ride," she ordered with that smile. "I’m heading back to base."

I smirked, glanced at Alyssa.

"Can we get married now?"

Livana laughed through comms.

"Oh, please. Kai can’t even walk straight yet!" Sophia chimed in.

"And David’s gotta tie the knot first," Damon added.

"You two are too young. Wait until we’ve got triplets too," Logan cracked, laughing.

"Fuck off, guys. We’re getting married soon." I wrapped my arms around Alyssa’s waist, kissed her chest. "Also, I need sleep. So hurry home."

"It’s fine, I’ll monitor them," Sophia said.

"Really?" I raised a brow.

Livana chuckled. "Alright. If Sophia’s on it, then Lore—you rest."

"Perfect. Logging out. Love you, family."

I set the headset down carefully, scooped Alyssa into my arms. She clung to my neck.

"I still need to taste that pineapple juice... in my favorite spot," I growled into her ear. She laughed, agreed.

"But first, you need a massage."

"No." I shook my head. "I want to taste you first."

She smacked my chest as I carried her into our nest—the rest chamber tucked among servers.

I laid her on the Queen bed, stripped down without hesitation. Looked at myself. Muscles fading, fat creeping in.

"Damn. I need a serious workout."

She laughed. "Babe, you still have this." She tapped my abs.

"Not toned enough. Can’t risk you falling out of love with me."

She gave me that sly smile.

*****

–Livana–

I hope Ghost has finally returned to her retirement plan. We will be arranging a funeral for her soon. I leaned against my husband, closing my eyes, surrendering to exhaustion. Sleep tugged at me, yet hunger gnawed within. My stomach growled, and as if the universe itself conspired to soothe me, my husband produced a bar of chocolate from some hidden place, unwrapped it, and offered it to me. I pressed my lips together, overwhelmed by the quiet majesty of being loved.

I love him. I may not always speak it aloud, but I love him with a ferocity that burns through silence. In my mind, I wave a white flag, surrendering to the truth: I will never love another as I love him.

And yet, I hate him. The irony is sharp—hatred entwined with love, each feeding the other. He may be obsessed with me, convinced that I belong to him. But I need that obsession, that illusion of ownership, to bend him to my will. Most of the time, he requires no leash; he obeys, he worships, he loves me so deeply it borders on madness.

Perhaps I am too hard on him. But hardness is the armor I forged for myself, raised—or rather, self-raised—to rule an empire while still young. Dominance became my crown, and I wear it without apology.

The chocolate, rich and full with its nuts, filled me with a sweetness that softened the edges of fatigue.

"I need another," I murmured. He chuckled, already prepared, and handed me a second bar.

We arrived at the mansion’s wide lawn. As we stepped out, the systems flickered back to life. Two guards in crisp uniforms saluted us. I nodded, regal yet warm.

"Thank you for protecting our family," I said. Their faces remained stoic, but I knew my gratitude mattered. I was no cruel queen; I rewarded loyalty with respect and compensation.

Inside, the mansion was silent.

"I’m heading to bed. Let’s pick them up tomorrow," she mumbled. I agreed, though my heart longed to see my little Sky immediately.

"Sleep well," I whispered.

Damon and I descended into the panic room, walking until we reached its foyer. I unlocked the door—and froze. David was there, rushing toward me.

"Liva," he breathed, embracing me, kissing my temple. I held him tightly.

"God, you are safe. Thank you," he murmured.

He pulled away, arms open for Damon, who merely patted his head. I laughed softly, patting David’s shoulder, before moving on.

We sought Sky’s room, but he was absent. My steps carried me to Laura’s chamber. I knocked gently, then entered.

My eyes found him—my little boy—curled in the corner, surrounded by mattresses where children slept together. In his hands was a tablet, my voice echoing faintly from its speakers. He looked up, eyes wide.

"Mama?" he whispered.

My heart swelled, breaking open. He had waited for us for two long months, clinging to my recorded messages in the dark.

"Sky," I sobbed, tears spilling as he cried out and ran to me.

"Mama!" His wail pierced the night, waking everyone.

I scooped him into my arms, holding him as though the world itself could not pry him away. I kissed his head, breathing him in.

The lights blazed, the household stirred awake—but none of it mattered. My empire, my crown, my dominion—all paled before the truth in my arms. My baby boy. My Sky.

"Liva!" Laura cried, her belly now rounder, heavy with life. She struggled to rise, but Damien steadied her, his hand firm at her side. She rushed toward me, arms outstretched, embracing me with such force that Sky was nearly crushed between us. Yet I knew—it was worry that drove her, worry that had gnawed at her heart for weeks.

My tears spilled freely, unstoppable. I had held them back for so long, locked behind the walls of duty and command. Weeks of longing, weeks of silence, weeks of missing them... and now, the flood broke.

My son—my sweet Sky—he cries so often. His sobs pierce me deeper than any blade. I cannot bear the sound of his sorrow, nor the sight of him clinging to my recorded videos as though they were fragments of me. He is barely two years old, yet already he carries the weight of waiting, the patience of a child forced to endure absence.

He is tender, adorable, a light too pure for the shadows of this world. My heart aches for him, for my family—for the love that binds us even when distance tries to sever it.

In that moment, I was not the ruler of an empire, nor the queen of dominion. I was simply a mother, broken open by love, clutching my son as though he were the very breath of my soul.