Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 274: Damon’s Little Assistant

–Damon–

One of the shipments has been captured.

Five hundred million euros—gone in a blink. Smuggled clean, routed through three shadows and two dead channels, and still... intercepted. The report glowed coldly on the screen, numbers stabbing at my temples. My jaw tightened as I scanned timestamps, coordinates, and names scrubbed into anonymity.

"Fuck," I muttered.

I froze.

Sky lifted his head, eyes still closed, lashes fluttering. He turned instinctively, a small body seeking warmth and certainty.

"Dada," he murmured, crawling toward me at the edge of the bed like a homing signal.

"Go back to sleep," I told him quietly, lowering my voice. "We have a big problem here, Sky."

"Oh." He cooed, unbothered, and climbed straight into my lap anyway.

I exhaled through my nose and pulled him close, the faint scent of milk and soap cutting through the metallic smell of stress. I tilted the tablet so he could see the report—maps, red markers, loss columns bleeding numbers.

"We lost five hundred million euros on-route," I said flatly. "That’s euros, Sky."

He leaned in, squinted, then drew a dramatic breath like a man burdened by the world.

"Oh, no." A pause. "No, foodie?"

I tried not to laugh. Failed.

"Even if we lost five hundred million euros, you will have food," I said, brushing my thumb over his back. "Don’t worry, little guy. Mommy and I will work hard so you won’t ever be hungry."

He wrapped his arms around my neck, small and fierce.

"I waabyuu, Dada."

"I love you too." I kissed his forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary.

I carried him to my study, his arms locked around me, his weight grounding. It was three in the morning. The city outside was quiet, but my world was not. This wasn’t a loss—it was a challenge. And challenges invite retaliation.

The only solution was simple.

Steal it back.

My wife’s message came through—precise, elegant, ruthless. A location ping. A movement pattern. Instructions disguised as suggestions. I grinned. Of course she already had the board mapped.

"Dada, car." Sky pointed at the live feed. "Mee car~~, Dada."

"Hmm," I murmured, scrubbing through the footage. A red sportscar raced another vehicle, then slipped under the container van’s trailer for seconds that mattered. "Looks like your car, indeed."

I paused the frame, took a screenshot, and sent it to Command Control.

"Good one, baby," I said softly.

Sky clapped, grinning wide, teeth flashing.

"Once we get that back," I added, "I’ll buy a restaurant for you."

"Yay!" He clapped harder. "Mikkk."

Choco stirred at our feet.

The door opened. Livana stepped in, light on her feet, already smiling like she owned the room—and the night.

"Why is our little Sky still awake?" She kissed his cheeks again and again.

"Mik!" Sky cheered, spotting the bottle in her hand.

"He noticed a car that might be part of the stunt," I said, pride threading my voice.

Livana clapped once, her lips curving with quiet pride. "That’s impressive, my love." She took him gently. "He needs to sleep."

I rose and kissed her—slow, unhurried, a promise pressed into her mouth. My hand settled at her lower back, firm and possessive, drawing her just close enough for her to feel my intent. My thumb traced a subtle arc, a silent reminder of what I wanted... and what would wait for us once the night was ours again.

"I’ll wait for you in bed once this is settled," she murmured.

I watched them leave, my empire narrowing to two silhouettes and the quiet hum of screens.

Then I called my Commanders.

These thieves weren’t amateurs. Organized. Disciplined. Someone powerful was testing boundaries.

Caine shuffled in, still half-asleep, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just fed my wife," he muttered. "You want me out there?"

"No." My voice stayed level, controlled—the kind that didn’t need to rise to be obeyed. "You’re not stepping into the field." I handed him the tablet, the screen already alive with moving routes and blinking markers. "Monitor the Devils. Feed them instructions. I want that container van recovered without noise."

He glanced at the display, interest sharpening behind his tired eyes.

"And one more thing," I added coolly. "Let them believe I’m running the White Queen’s Empire. Misdirection is half the game." 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Caine’s mouth curved into a knowing smirk. "Fine by me."

When he left, I dimmed the lights.

"Choco," I called.

He rose immediately and padded after me, tail wagging in slow, content arcs. I led him to Sky’s room, and without hesitation, he lifted his paws and nudged the door open like it was second nature. He slipped inside, still wiggling.

Sky was already asleep—arms sprawled wide across the bed, chest rising softly—while Livana tucked the blanket around him with practiced tenderness. The room smelled faintly of baby lotion and clean linen. Peaceful. Safe.

I handed Choco a treat, then opened the bathroom door—the one he also uses.

Yes. The dog really knows how to use and flush the toilet.

I wiped his paws, cleaned his face as he trotted toward his round bed and circled once before settling in.

"Good night, Choco," Livana murmured, patting his head and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

I scooped my wife into my arms, careful not to make a sound, and eased the door shut behind us. I carried her down the hall and into our room, closing the door softly.

"Finally," I grinned, adjusting my grip as she wrapped an arm around my neck, her body fitting perfectly against mine. "My cardio."

Tomorrow, the van comes back.

And whoever laid hands on what’s mine will learn—slowly, painfully—that nothing stays stolen from me. Not cargo. Not territory. Not power.

I always reclaim what belongs to me.

–Jane–

I thought I was sleepwalking again. I tore myself out of a bad dream, lungs burning as I dragged in air, heart thrashing against my ribs. The first thing I did was check my hands—empty. No knife. No blood. Relief hit so hard my knees almost gave out. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I never do.

But the nightmare lingered, sticky and cruel, like it had tried to siphon something essential out of me. Not my body—my center. My edge. My will.

I gasped when sensation cut through the fog, sharp and grounding, pulling me fully back into myself. Heat. Breath against my skin. Reality snapping into place.

That was when it registered.

Logan. Awake. Very awake. Focused entirely on me, anchoring me without a word, dragging me out of the dark in the most infuriating, effective way possible. My breath stuttered again—not from fear this time, but from the sudden contrast between panic and pleasure.

So that was it. I hadn’t escaped the nightmare on my own.

I woke up because Logan was already there, busy reminding my body that I was alive, present, and very much not lost.

His warm tongue just slid in inside me, spreading my legs further, kneading my thighs like a dough. A moan escaped my mouth as I watched him, enjoying it, like he’s eating something delightful.

My whole body was warm, started shaking as I finally reached my climax. He didn’t stop there. He won’t be there. He picked up the condom, trying to push his manhood inside me. Why did he get bigger? Or is it me that gets tighter?

"Fuck," He grumbled but after a forced push, that sharpness was somehow pleasurable and a little painful.

I caught my breath, legs draped over his shoulders. It’s a good thing I can still fold myself like this—my ribs don’t hurt anymore, and I can feel everything again. Every nerve is lighting up. That familiar, dizzying bliss cresting and spilling over, pulling me under and then setting me free all at once.

After that, everything dissolves into blank space. No clear memory of how we ended up still, only fragments—heat, weight, the echo of my own breath.

I woke up later, snuggled against his chest while he snored softly, deep and unguarded. The sound should have annoyed me. It used to. Instead, I realized—almost with disbelief—that I was getting used to it. The steady rhythm felt... safe. Anchoring.

I lifted my head and looked at him properly.

This man—this man I once catalogued as an enemy, a problem, a complication—had somehow become my husband.

And being his wife... isn’t that bad.

He’s rich. Powerful. Always knee-deep in business and shadows. He treats me well—buys me things I need, things I don’t need, things I never even thought to want. But despite all that wealth, all that excess, I don’t ever want to be a burden.

I want to stand beside him, not lean until he carries all my weight.

"Good morning," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep as his arms closed around me.

"Hmm, morning." I tried to pry his hold loose, squirming just enough to make my point. "I need to prepare for—"

"Shh, let them." He kissed the top of my head, slow and unhurried. "Everything’s already prepared. Chef Wally, Aunt Amiliee, and Aunt Ines took care of breakfast. Honestly, I don’t even think they woke up this early just for food."

His grip tightened, gentle but deliberate, pulling me back against him. Heat pressed where it shouldn’t, where I couldn’t ignore it. My senses snapped awake instantly. I inhaled, then pushed myself upright, straddling him just enough to look down at his face.

"So," I said, arching a brow, "you’re planning to stay here longer and just... make love?"

"Yes, please." He didn’t even pretend to be dignified. He pleaded, openly, eyes still heavy with sleep but unmistakably hungry.

And for a moment, I almost gave in.

But then my mind betrayed me—last night’s incident flashed back, sharp and unwelcome. Damon’s five-hundred-million container van. Too many unanswered questions. Too many risks.

I exhaled slowly.

Duty pulled at me, loud and relentless. Yet here I was, staring down at my husband, fully aware of what I’d be leaving behind if I chose logic over desire.

Should I really walk away now—leave him aroused, frustrated, and blue?

Why did that question bother me more than it should?