CHAPTER 71: QUEEN TAKES KNIGHT

–Damon–

Caine stood and tapped Kai and Logan. I didn’t wait—I bolted upstairs to the master bedroom. I pushed the door wide open.

My wife was still sleeping, her body curled slightly. Choco sat next to her, tense and growling low, protective. That damned dog was more alert than the guards outside.

"Liva," I called.

"Mmm." She turned to the side, eyes half-closed. "Baby, stay here, okay? I need to check what’s outside."

She opened her eyes and slowly sat up, disoriented but already sensing something.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Stay here." I scanned the windows and the balcony. Locked. Good. But my paranoia didn’t ease. I stepped out.

"Laura," she muttered. "Check on Laura."

Of course. Always her sister first. I clenched my jaw and made my way to the other corridor. I knocked three times. Damien opened the door, eyes sleepy but alert.

"Where’s Laura?"

He glanced toward the bed. "Still sleeping."

"Stay with her," I ordered. He nodded.

I descended and answered a call from security.

This estate is secluded. Remote. Practically a fortress. So why the hell were there assassins?

"It’s a false alarm," Caine said, his voice too relaxed.

"No. It’s not a false alarm." I crossed my arms. "Find the intruders. The house locked itself automatically. That only happens for one reason."

Then—a bark. Loud. Echoing from upstairs.

"Livana!"

A crash followed.

I sprinted up the stairs, heart pounding. My wife—my everything—was on the floor in her white silk dress, and a man in a black suit stood over her.

A second later, he dropped. Dead weight.

I rushed to her, scooping her face gently.

"Livana." No blood. Thank God. My eyes darted to the gun in her hand.

My gun.

"Did that bastard touch you?" I snarled.

I crawled toward the intruder, tore off his mask. Tattoos. Scum.

Caine entered the room.

"Now tell me," I demanded, "how the hell did this bastard get inside my mansion?"

"Damn, that’s precise," Caine muttered, eyeing the bullet perfectly placed in the man’s forehead. "Are you sure you’re not blind?"

My wife raised the gun again, steady—aiming directly at Caine’s head.

"Whoa! Whoa!" He threw up his hands and looked at me.

"Find out where that bastard came from," Livana ordered, voice sharp, commanding.

Damn. Sexy.

"Okay, okay. Put the gun down, please."

I took it from her and helped her up. Choco continued growling, circling her like a trained guard.

"Holy shit!" Logan burst in. "Liva, are you okay?"

"Check on my sister," she snapped.

Always her sister. Never me. Always her first.

When will I be first?

"Let’s go to the library, shall we?" I lifted her. Moments later, Laura arrived, still in her pajamas with Logan.

"In the library," I ordered. Once inside, Logan closed the door behind us.

I hit the remote. The curtains shut. Only one lamp stayed lit. I held her hand as I sat at my desk, pulling her onto my lap. She didn’t resist. She never does when she knows I need her close.

"What the hell happened?" Damien asked.

I said nothing, already tapping into my system. My mansion’s surveillance. Most cameras were down—sabotaged—but I always have backups. Hidden ones.

Choco whimpered beside my chair. I reached down and patted his head.

"I think it’s the compass," Livana said quietly.

I froze.

"The one my mother made. We accidentally activated it."

"What?" Laura stood up, voice panicked. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn’t have a tracker," Livana explained, "but activating it sends a signal. It draws them."

"What’s in it?" I asked, voice low, sharp.

She just caressed my arm like that would make me forget the danger.

"Don’t worry. My Pawns are already handling the cleanup."

She shifted on my lap.

"Where is that device?" I pressed.

She only smirked. "It’s handled."

Handled. That smirk. She’s hiding something.

Gunshots rang near the door. Laura shrieked.

"Damien. Panic room. Now."

Damien reacted instantly, pulling her toward the hidden shelves. I tapped into the system and unlocked the solid panic door. He gently pushed Laura inside.

"Livana," Laura cried.

"Close it," Livana said, voice firm.

Damien looked confused. I waved him off.

He shut it. I locked it. He knows the code—they can get out. But for now, they stay.

I sighed and placed my hand on Livana’s thigh. My anchor in all this chaos.

"Wife." She stroked my chest.

"I love this mansion," she whispered. "But assassins ruined the mood."

I watched on-screen as Sophia, clad in white, executed clean, brutal kills. Efficient. Surgical. Most of my guards were down. The dogs—three were injured. One of my men had secured them in the kennel.

Thirty minutes passed. A knock.

I unlocked the door from my phone. Sophia stepped in, bleeding from her arm.

"The Pawns are already cleaning up," she said.

"My room—"

"Already cleaned," Sophia assured.

"Are you hurt?"

"It’s bearable. I could use a vacation."

Livana chuckled. "How about you, Logan?"

How the hell did she know it was them?

"I was thinking about the Bahamas," Logan replied. "But this mansion’s nice. I’ll chill by the pool once they clean up the dead bodies."

Her eyes weren’t on them. She stared at nothing.

Then, footsteps.

Livana turned toward me. "Is that Caine? Your man?"

I chuckled. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"Unfamiliar footsteps," she murmured. Then she sighed, resting her head on my shoulder. "I’m tired of all this chaos."

"Tell us about that thing Logan opened."

I narrowed my eyes.

"You don’t need to know, Caine."

"Those men were after you, right?"

I glared at him. Possessiveness stirred.

"They’re always after me," she replied simply.

"Damon, are you hearing this?" Caine snapped.

I lifted a finger toward him. "Don’t speak to my wife like that."

"You’re blinded by her, as always!" he hissed.

Sophia turned slowly, her gaze sharp.

"Make sure the dogs are safe and tended to," Livana said softly.

I stroked her waist.

"Let’s go," Sophia ordered, dragging Caine out. Logan followed by scooping off Caine by the arm.

I unlocked the panic room. Laura and Damien emerged holding bags of chips and drinks.

"Is it over?" Laura asked. "I can’t sleep after this."

"Take Choco. I need a moment alone with my wife."

Damien sighed, called Choco, and left. The door clicked shut.

"Liva." I slid my arms around her waist, eyes on her exposed back. Her silk negligee barely covered anything. No underwear. Tempting. Always tempting.

"You’re good at everything, my love," I whispered. "That includes seducing me."

She leaned into me. "My mother made them. I just improved them. The Chess Pieces."

"You’re changing the topic by seducing me," I said, suspicious.

"Is it working?" she teased, bending over my desk. "If you want heirs, use your manhood well."

I laughed. My fingers tangled in her hair, pulling gently. She moaned, arched her back like sin.

I kissed her neck, breathed in her scent.

"Wife, you’re my top priority. Now tell me—how did they find my mansion?"

"Fuck me first," she whispered. "Your wife’s needs come first."

–Livana–

An hour ago.

Once my husband left, I immediately searched for his gun in the hidden drawer inside the desk. I could feel the assassins’ presence—Choco sensed them too. The footsteps... nearly silent, but I heard even the faintest of them. I’ve been blind for three years. I know what silence really sounds like.

"Stay," I whispered to Choco, signaling him to hide under the bed.

Then, I walked toward the door and positioned myself just beside it.

The door opened—no creak. Smooth. I pointed the gun directly at the assassin. He froze, clearly not expecting me.

I smirked.

"Who sent you?" I asked, my tone calm but firm.

Choco growled low behind me, menacing and loyal.

The man reached for his knives—I shot him in the wrist.

He tried to fight back, but he retreated outside the room. Smart move. I didn’t chase him. There are no cameras inside the bedroom, and that worked to my advantage.

Choco barked, and I kicked a vase to make a loud enough sound to alert my husband.

Then, I stepped forward just as the assassin lunged again. As expected—he tried to disarm me. I dropped the gun and swiftly kicked him in the chest. He fell hard.

The gun rolled across the carpet—I scrambled for it, crawling, pretending I was hurt—right where the camera could see me.

And when he moved again—I raised the gun and shot him.

Right between the eyes.

Now?

After all that pretending, all the acting—honestly, I know my husband.

He gets stirred up easily. Especially when I let him think he’s the one seducing me first. But the truth? I know how to make myself wet before he even touches me. That’s the power I hold over him.

I like the desk. It’s sleek. Commanding. A perfect place for seduction.

So I use that.

In this silk negligee—the one he’s been fantasizing about—I offer myself to him. Slowly. Deliberately. And he takes me.

"Fuck! I love you," he growls as he thrusts into me.

I admit it.

He made me lose control. Just for a moment.

I forgot about the weight of the world. About that damned device. About the clean-up. About the plan.

For a moment... I was just his wife.

And it felt dangerously good.