Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 264: Intruders

– Livana –

Steel slid into place with a soft, mechanical sigh as I pressed the controls. Bars sealed the windows. Doors locked with the finality of a chess move that could not be undone. The house shifted from home to fortress in less than a breath.

"Let’s go to the basement," I told Damien.

He reacted instantly, lifting the twins from the floor as if his arms had been waiting for that command.

"Laura!" he called sharply when she appeared at the top of the stairs in a rush. "Don’t damn run!"

Fear makes people careless. Carelessness kills.

I led them down. Damien started the golf cart. Laura climbed in with the twins pressed to her chest. I followed, the hum of the engine vibrating through my bones as we descended into the safer womb beneath our home.

While the cart rolled forward, my mind stayed behind—at the garden, at the barking, at the scream that still echoed in my ears.

When we arrived, I passed Sky into Laura’s arms. His small fingers clung to my sleeve, reluctant, confused.

"I’ll be right back," I whispered.

Then I turned and entered the Nest through the secret elevator.

Jorge stood over the console, shoulders tight, eyes fixed on the screens.

"Jorge."

"We got an intruder," he said. "Our dog—lost its body-cam—came back with the body of a male. Height, five-five."

"Fuck."

I slid into the chair beside him and pulled up the footage.

There he was.

A man, smiling at his own reflection. A camera held high. A voice chasing attention. He cut through our fence like a boy stepping into forbidden water, narrating his trespass as if danger were only a prop.

We do not station human guards in that area. Only dogs.

The Alpha struck. The camera flew. The man screamed.

"Search his background," I said. "We can’t have the police poking around. I’ll handle PR. Prepare the lawyers."

"Got it."

I exhaled, slow and thin. If only Lore were here. If only Yolanda.

I called Deanne.

She answered after a few rings, voice thick with sleep. "Hmm?"

"I’m sorry for calling, but we have a situation."

"Hit it."

I explained.

On-screen, Jorge instructed Commander White to retrieve the camera. It wasn’t live—thank God. But then Jorge pulled up the man’s last broadcast from fifteen minutes earlier.

A roadside view.

Our fence.

A towering sign: NO TRESPASSING. BEWARE OF DOGS.

Translated to: English. Filipino.

Unmistakable.

"Stupid asshole," Jorge snapped.

"People," I murmured, "will bleed for five seconds of fame."

An ambulance finally pierced through the chaos, its siren cutting the night like a blade. The community hospital lay thirty minutes away—far from this town I had built, far from the land I had purchased to shelter my people. White lights washed over the gravel as the doors swung open.

They lifted him onto the stretcher with practiced efficiency. Blood-stained cloth wrapped around the stump of his arm, another cooler secured beside him—his severed limb preserved in sterile ice. Even in his half-conscious state, he groaned, eyes fluttering, lips trembling with shock and disbelief.

For a brief second, he turned his head toward the house.

Toward my home.

Then the doors slammed shut.

The ambulance pulled away, red lights shrinking into the dark road that led out of my territory. Out of my control. I stood still, listening until the siren faded into nothing, until only the barking dogs and the restless murmurs of people remained.

He would live.

But he would never leave untouched.

On another feed, Damon stood in the garden, shaking his head slowly. The dogs lay low, muscles coiled, eyes alert.

Commander White briefed the Alpha. My four-legged sentinels do not ask questions. They exist to decide who belongs and who does not.

This town is ours.

Knights surround us. Twenty Pawns live among them. Even the police station bows in invisible ways.

"Well," Deanne said, clearing her throat, "I know exactly what to do. I’ll handle the case."

"It’s up to you. I’ll need support for PR. He might’ve seen me and Sky. He saw Damon. I’ll have others manage him." I rubbed my temple. "Jorge, we need whiskey for this one."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Sorry I missed it."

I understood.

He was alone. I was in the kitchen. Commander White was elsewhere. It was meant to be a quiet day.

But chaos has a talent for wandering into peace.

"This man’s car is parked nearby," Jorge added.

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah."

"Take a break. I’ll have Sophia arrange the rest."

"It’s fine. Let’s finish and wrap it."

We worked for an hour or maybe two—threads pulled, narratives spun, systems reset. Then I handed the Nest to Sophia and distant agents whose shadows stretched across continents.

We left the room empty.

Perhaps it was time to trust the AI Lore and Louie built—to let the Nest watch itself.

Even queens must learn when to step back.

Because even a fortress needs to breathe.

I returned to the living room and found Laura on the sofa, cocooned in children. Cartoons flickered across the screen, painting soft colors over tired faces. Sky sat upright beside her, clutching an unopened biscuit like a treasure he did not yet trust.

"He refuses to eat that one," Laura said.

I pouted theatrically as I approached. Sky lifted his arms, offering me the small packet as if it were a peace treaty. I picked him up, pressed kisses to his cheeks, his hair, his temple.

"I’m sorry, baby," I whispered. "Do you want to eat that now?"

He handed it to me. I sat beside Laura and opened it. Sky began to eat, slow and careful, then offered me one piece with solemn generosity.

"I’ll finish the lasagna," I said.

"It’s fine." Laura chuckled. "Damien went back to finish it. You need a break, sis."

She patted Zayvier, already asleep against her, while the twins rested in the cradle of her arms.

"Thank you." I smoothed Sky’s hair, studying those wide eyes that mirrored mine. "Baby... what did you see back there? With the dogs?"

He pouted and wrapped his arms around my neck.

"Dada..." he murmured.

Laura’s voice softened. "So, what will happen? To that man? Is he just an intruder?"

The police had found a small gun in one of his belongings. In the footage, he had tried to shoot the dog that lunged for him. Our Alpha bore a shallow wound.

A normal citizen. A foolish one.

"Yes," I said quietly. "A stupid one. We’ll take care of it. For now, we’ll stay here until everything settles."

"Let’s move to the mansion," Laura suggested. "The main one Damon bought for you."

I hummed.

Assassins had once lingered near that place, but I had erased their shadows. The residents there lived ordinary lives—Bishops, Knights, Pawns. I had placed a Rook near my King. Damon stood as Black King; the board needed balance.

After the purge, no one knew that house anymore. Damon had listed it under another name. The papers were ready. One day, it would belong to my son.

"Yes," I said. "We can do that. I’ll arrange everything once Mom and Mother-in-law return."

Footsteps approached.

Damon appeared, holding baby bottles. He handed one to Sky, who promptly offered his biscuit to his father before latching onto the bottle and leaning against me.

Damon bent and kissed my lips. Sky tugged his face with one hand and planted a kiss on his forehead.

My heart softened into ruin.

The first trauma of my son must be buried. He is still too young. I want him to forget.

But I know better.

In our world, innocence is only borrowed.

Sky did not sleep. After finishing his milk, he reclaimed his biscuit from the table and continued eating.

"I’ll check on the lasagna," I told Damon. "Watch over our baby."

He nodded as Sky wriggled and followed me.

"Lasagna’s here!" Damien called.

"Well," I sighed. "So much for fixing anything."

"Foodie!" Sky shouted, sprinting toward Damien as plates were arranged on the glass table.

I turned instead toward the secret room and entered the elevator.

Inside the Nest, I sat and monitored the hospital feeds. Consent forms signed. Surgeons preparing. They would try to reattach the arm, though I doubted success.

The mayor had arrived in place of Commander White, claiming jurisdiction. Good. It created distance.

Social media, however, moved faster than truth. Comments multiplied. Speculation bloomed.

Our PR network released a narrative within minutes—controlled, sterile, distant. No one would suspect our land.

I bit my lip. He would become a headline. But headlines can be shaped.

The elevator chimed.

Damon stepped out with a plate of lasagna in one hand and Sky in the other.

"Mama!"

My worries dissolved at once.

"Eat," Damon said, setting Sky down. He darted to the mini slide. "So, my love—do you want me to send my Shadows?"

"I might need that help. I don’t want my agents involved further."

"Got it."

He kissed my forehead. Then my lips.

We lingered—until the red alarm flared.

Sky screamed and ran to his father.

On-screen, more figures gathered near our property. Dogs barked, thunderous.

"Fuck," I breathed.

I dispatched reinforcements in seconds.

But chaos is a tide.

And tonight, it wanted to breach my shore.