Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 255: Key to Her Life

–Jane–

He took care of everything.

Every need, anticipated before I voiced it. We were stationed at the Chile headquarters—Damon’s facility—clinical, fortified, efficient. The nurses were competent and discreet. The doctor checked on me twice a day, methodical and thorough. And Logan was always there. Always.

At night, he insisted on staying beside me, carefully positioned on my left. He looked cramped, uncomfortable, and I tried—several times—to push him away. Each time, he refused with quiet stubbornness. In the end, I let him stay.

He pressed his face against my neck, breathing slow, controlled, as if afraid even the weight of air might hurt me. His hands never wandered. Too careful. Too restrained.

I must have drifted off, because his low snoring woke me briefly—soft vibrations against my collarbone. Annoying. Familiar. Somehow, it pulled me back into sleep.

I was resting deeply when he gently woke me.

"Hmm." I opened my eyes to see nurses surrounding the bed, calm voices explaining they’d remove my IV and the remaining apparatus.

I watched Logan pack my things—efficient, minimal. He added a few items I didn’t remember bringing.

"Logan?" I called.

"There’s an emergency," he said without looking up. "The Commander wants us flying directly to the US."

I slid off the bed. Instead of helping me change properly, he draped a jacket over my shoulders, pulled the hood up, shielding my face.

He guided me into a wheelchair. Everything moved fast. The hospital was loud—controlled chaos. Stretchers rushed past. Doctors shouted vitals. I caught a glimpse of a man with blood soaking through gauze as someone pumped his chest.

"What’s going on?" I asked.

"A lot of agents were hit," Logan muttered.

Normal. Unfortunately.

A car took us straight to the private airport. We lifted off quickly. Logan made sure my seat was reclined, handed me water, medication, snacks—small, bland, easy to eat.

"Logan," I called once he sat across the aisle.

"Yes?" He tilted his head. "Miss me already?" A grin.

"I think California’s situation has been neutralized. Do we really need to stay there?"

He nodded once. "Commander’s request."

That ended the discussion. When Livana decided, it wasn’t a suggestion.

Hours passed quietly. I took my meds on time, ate when told. He was overfeeding me. Deliberately. I didn’t comment. Recovery was slow but steady.

When we landed in California, I asked for my phone. He said it was in one of the bags. I tilted my head. He was hiding something.

We arrived at a villa in LA. Expensive. Discreet. Predictable.

As we entered, the balcony door slid open.

"Hey!" Caine grinned.

I turned—and froze.

Deanne stood there in a negligee and robe, visibly pregnant.

"Jane!" she giggled.

"Oh." I stared. "You’re here." I pointed. "I knew it. So the wedding’s here?"

She laughed. "No. We got married a week ago."

I frowned. Of course they didn’t invite me.

"It was rushed," she added quickly.

"And you’re in the US?" I asked. "Not worried they’ll find you?"

"I’m not wanted anymore," she said with a smirk.

"Fine." I rolled my eyes and slowly bent to grab my bag and I winced at the pain. Logan lifted it before I could.

"I prepared dinner and your room!" Deanne said brightly.

Caine closed the balcony door and locked it. We went upstairs. Deanne gave a casual tour and stopped at the master bedroom.

I raised an eyebrow. This was not a guest room. This was a honeymoon suite.

Inside, everything was prepared—medical supplies, pillows arranged for my ribs, recovery essentials added with flowers and scented candles.

"Tada!" Deanne beamed and spread her arms.

I glanced at her wedding ring. Platinum. Diamond. New. Along it is an engagement black diamond.

I hoped—briefly—that I wouldn’t be sharing the room with Logan.

Then he opened the wardrobe.

Men’s clothes. Many.

Fuck.

"We’ll shop for your clothes tomorrow," he said calmly.

I didn’t argue. No energy for it.

Deanne backed toward the door. "I’ll leave you two." She giggled. "Caine! I’ll be in our room!"

"Still checking surveillance," he replied.

The door closed.

I took in the space—sofa, electric fireplace, balcony, king bed, walk-in closet, full bath. Secure. Comfortable. Too intimate.

Logan opened the bathroom door and smiled.

"I’ll bathe you."

He was already topless. Irritatingly attractive. He stepped closer, removed my jacket, pressed light kisses—cheek, forehead, lips—nothing rushed. His breath brushed my neck as he unbuttoned my shirt.

"I thought we had work to do," I said quietly. "Not a honeymoon."

He chuckled and guided me inside.

He removed the bandages carefully, replaced them with silicone bandage for my stitches, precise and practiced. I sank into the warm bath and exhaled. Breathing still hurts. Everything still hurt.

"Emilia," he said softly—my real name.

I stiffened.

"What?" I answered coolly.

"I like you." The confession came awkwardly, almost shy.

I frowned. "Yes. I know. You like sleeping with me."

He laughed under his breath. "That’s part of it."

He touched my face.

I rolled my eyes and pushed his chest lightly. He didn’t move away. He just came closer—slow, deliberate, patient.

And that, more than anything, unsettled me.

–Caine–

My wife.

Yeah. My wife.

I got married a week ago—an intimate, fantasy-like wedding with only us there. Livana was there. No grandparents present. Just family. The babies were there too. Chaos, laughter, warmth. It was perfect.

And now—I’m married.

She’s sleeping soundly beside me, her breathing slow and even. Our baby? Growing beautifully. Strong. Alive. I pressed a kiss to her shoulder and carefully pulled the duvet up, covering her properly. Protection instinct—always on.

Then I heard something downstairs.

Footsteps? No. Too light.

Metallic shift? No.

Kitchen sounds—controlled, intentional.

Jane and Logan had already finished dinner... unless they decided to eat again at zero-dark-thirty.

I slipped out of bed, muscle memory kicking in. Gun in hand. Safety off. Bare feet silent on the floor as I moved downstairs, clearing angles, checking blind spots.

Kitchen—secured.

And then I saw her.

A woman in elegant clothing stood there like she owned the place. Fancy fabric. Clean lines. A headdress sat perfectly on her head, a fine net veil draped over her face. She sipped tea calmly, as if this wasn’t a secured villa guarded by trained killers.

"Hello?"

"Put your gun down, Caine."

Her voice—smooth, elegant, controlled. It sounded like Livana... but not Livana. Familiar in a way that made my spine tighten.

I approached slowly, circling her, weapon lowered but not holstered.

"The AC here is strong," she said casually as she removed her headdress that came along with a front veil.

I froze.

Stepped back.

Hit the fridge.

"Whoa! Auntie—why are you visiting me in my dream?"

She giggled.

"Since you married one of my daughters, it’s time I finally visited you."

"Daughter—"

Then my brain finally rebooted. Deanne. Her daughter. Adopted in everything but paperwork.

"Oh. Deanne," I chuckled awkwardly.

"Caine, sit down."

"Yes, ma’am."

I pulled out the chair across from her and sat. I studied her face—older now, yes—but still sharp. Still powerful. Still alive.

She smiled and reached into her Mini Kelly, pulling something out with deliberate grace.

A small box.

I took it. Opened it.

A key.

Heavy. Four inches. Cold metal. Not symbolic—functional.

"What’s this?"

"A key to Deanne’s life. I’m accepting you as one of my sons-in-law."

"Wow," I shrugged. "But I’m already in her life, right?"

"Not entirely," Aunt Ines chuckled.

"How?" I asked. "And... how are you still alive?"

"I have my ways," she smiled. "I live to protect my children."

I swallowed.

"So Deanne knows... and the others?"

"Yes." She smiled softly. "I’ll introduce you to someone when we return to the Philippines. For now, we fix the California system. I need Deanne and Jane."

"Oh, shit," I rubbed my temple.

Footsteps approached.

Logan appeared—shirtless, completely unbothered. He leaned down and kissed Aunt Ines on the head.

"Hey, Auntie."

So. He knew.

He raided the pantry, grabbed popcorn, tossed it into the microwave like this was family night.

"So," I said, looking between them, "about the California system—are we even safe in an LA villa?"

"Yes," Aunt Ines nodded. "I bought the houses around this one. We’re safe."

I nodded slowly.

"Why bring us here?" I asked again. "The US Government is after Deanne. She closed too many cases and—"

"Her work is dangerous," Aunt Ines cut in. "She won’t be in the field. She’s pregnant."

Relief hit instantly.

"You’ll work the field," she added.

Fair.

"She’ll stay here until Jane heals," Aunt Ines continued, setting her cup down. "Now—I’m tired. I need sleep."

"Well," I muttered, "now I won’t be able to."

The woman we buried years ago—Livana’s mother, who raised us, who shaped us—is alive. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

I grabbed snacks, still dizzy from the information overload. Logan laughed as he prepped something on the counter.

"What did you do when she showed up to you?" I asked.

"We joked," Logan said. "But I almost fainted."

I headed back upstairs. Set the snacks by the table near the balcony. Slipped back into bed and pulled my wife close. She stirred.

"You didn’t tell me Aunt Ines is alive," I murmured.

She hummed sleepily. "Confidential," she mumbled.

I placed the small gift that Aunt Ines gave on the bedside table.

Then I wrapped my arm around her and held on.

Mine.