"She raised a soldier. He came back a man—with only one mission left: claim her."
BGM Recommendation: Joji – Sanctuary
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Lucian never planned to return home so soon.
But that night, Lilith made just one phone call. No explanation. Only a quiet command:
"Come back."
He didn't ask why.
First-class flight, passport clearance, airport pickup—everything arranged within hours.
The one who came to pick him up wasn't a bodyguard.
It was her.
—
Outside the airport that night, the fog hadn't lifted. Streetlights glowed dim and yellow, their reflections scattered on the damp pavement.
Lilith wore a black hoodie, jeans, a wig covering her natural hair. Curls dropped over her shoulders, hiding her face in the crowd.
But her eyes—those eyes were sharp as ever. Cold, like the barrel of a gun.
Lucian, on the other hand—
Tall, clean, casual. A light gray hoodie, cap pulled low. He looked like some spoiled rich kid returning from abroad. Effortlessly handsome. Seemingly harmless.
Lilith spotted him long before he saw her. She didn't move.
Until his gaze found hers.
Then, his whole expression softened.
He walked toward her, just like he used to as a boy.
She stepped forward and hugged him.
Her palm slid up the back of his head, fingers running through his hair.
"You've grown up," she whispered, voice low enough only he could hear.
His arms wrapped around her so tightly it was as if he wanted to break her into his bones. Quiet. Intense. Wordless.
He didn't say a thing.
He just buried his face into the curve of her neck.
And in that moment, they both breathed easy again.
—
That night, the boys who'd grown up with them threw him a welcome party.
The yacht wasn't big—but it was stupidly expensive. The wine had been imported years ago from a private European vineyard. The lights glowed soft and golden. The sea breeze carried a salty hush through the open deck.
The boys drank hard, laughed harder, sang off-key.
Lilith sat at the center of the room, one leg crossed over the other, hand resting on her knee. The diamonds on her skin sparkled like moonlight. She laughed with them, but the power in the room belonged to her.
She looked like a queen who didn't need to raise her voice to rule.
Lucian sat beside her, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at her.
Too soft.
One of the guys caught him and whistled. "Lucian's looking at her like she's God."
Lucian just smiled. Didn't deny it.
He didn't need to.
Everyone already knew.
The mad dog had chosen his master.
—
At the end of the night, Lilith raised her glass, ice clinking inside.
She took a sip, then swept her gaze around the room. Her tone wasn't sharp, but it cut like a nail hitting steel.
"Don't go too wild."
"Don't lose yourself in the pleasure."
"There's still work to do."
She threw on her coat and walked out into the night.
Her heels clicked against the wooden deck—sharp, clean, like bullet casings hitting the floor.
The boys all sat up straighter.
They knew the rules.
Don't eat too full. Don't drink too much. Don't touch drugs. Don't drown in desire.
Because they survived this long by one word only:
Clarity.
"Yes, Boss," they all echoed.
Lucian leaned back, watching her figure fade into the shadows.
One hand propped against his cheek.
He smiled.
No one knew what he was smiling about.
But the whole block knew one thing:
The mad dog was home.
They'd grown up together in this neighborhood. Kids who survived the kind of nightmares no one else could imagine. Kids raised on blood, steel, and silence.
She was their leader.
He was her blade.
—
That night, he stepped into their home again.
A quiet villa, warm lights, tasteful silence.
People assumed they lived upstairs, in the master suite overlooking the gardens.
They didn't.
Their real home was underground.
Buried beneath steel, guarded by silence, built like a warren with multiple exits.
A place no one but them could map.
A place designed not just to survive—but to disappear if needed.
Because even rabbits have three burrows.
And they were never prey.
He walked in, tossed his passport, tracker, and every foreign trace of himself into a corner.
Opened the hidden door.
And walked down into the dark.
At the deepest room, she was there.
He quietly lay down on the sofa near her bed.
She opened her eyes, half-asleep. Her voice soft and resigned:
"Go to your room."
He didn't move. Just leaned closer to her, whispering:
"Lilith… I missed you."
She sighed, like she always did when they were younger.
She pulled back the blanket and made room.
"I missed you too."
"You're home. That's all that matters."
He slid in beside her, tucked against her back, and finally—finally—fell asleep.
Quietly. Peacefully. Like a boy who could finally rest.
—
She slept too. But not well.
In her dream, the room was damp, thunder cracked outside the window.
He knelt on the floor, staring up at her.
His eyes were wild and sweet.
She sat on top of him, wearing a black lace slip. Lips red. Breathing tangled.
He didn't dare move.
Just clutched her waist, fingers white-knuckled.
His Adam's apple bobbed wildly as he gasped, breath catching, voice wrecked:
"Lilith… please…"
She leaned down to kiss him, slow and cruel. Like a punishment. Or a claim.
In the dream, his eyes shimmered with heat, voice low and wrecked:
"Tell me you want me…"
She smirked. Looked at him like a hunter who'd finally cornered her prey.
—
She jolted awake.
Heartbeat loud. Skin flushed.
The room was quiet. The blankets twisted around her legs, Warmth still lingering in her limbs.
She lay still, eyes on the ceiling.
Beside her, he slept like a child.
She looked at him for a long moment, then chuckled under her breath.
"…You're getting more and more out of line."
—
Truth was, she'd called him back with selfish intent.
She'd tried dating. Tried living a normal life.
But every time marriage came up, she pulled away.
Because deep down, she knew—
She belonged to this life. To the nights with guns. To missions. To clarity. And to this boy.
When he wasn't behind her, the world felt hollow.
She couldn't sleep.
If he finished school and wanted to return, she'd give him everything.
If he didn't, she'd let him go.
She could shoulder it all.
But the moment she saw him standing at the airport…
She got greedy.
Greedy for his warmth. Greedy for the way he said her name. Greedy for the feeling of never being alone again.
—
Morning.
She woke first.
He was still curled beside her, face relaxed. Finally looking like the boy she once knew.
The blanket was half-kicked off, his tall frame stretching against the sheets.
She reached over and gently touched his face.
"You're a big boy now," she whispered.
Then got up and went to the kitchen.
The pot on the stove simmered with warm rice porridge.
He was still asleep.
Dreaming.
First, it was a flash of their childhood. Then, last night replaying in a different way—
In the dream, she didn't send him away.
She kissed him instead. Hard. Deep.
She straddled him. Bit his neck. Whispered things he'd never repeat aloud.
She was all his.
And only his.
He loved it.
Didn't want to wake up.
But pain jolted him from the dream. A dull ache pulsing low in his body.
He opened his eyes, silent.
Then smiled.
Her scent on the pillow. Her body warmth beside him.
The dream wasn't real.
But it didn't matter.
She was here.
And this world may have space for him.
But nowhere else would ever be home.
Only her. Only here.
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"She wiped her hands, feeling his gaze on her spine.It wasn't the gaze of a brother anymore.And deep down—she already knew that."