Until Death Gives In: He Was My Doom, and Still My Home

The daughter of the Winslow family and the mafia leader of the Yates Group were born as enemies, their families locked in a feud that spanned generations. And yet, somewhere in the clash of blades and pride, love took root.

On the day they first met, Lucien Yates should have killed Mira Winslow. Instead, he shifted the aim of his gun and spared her-saving the proud, untouchable daughter of the Winslow family before him.

She could have run after being saved. Instead, she chose to fall-straight into the depths of his gaze.

For three years, they lived together in secret. Mira was the only light in his endless night.

And for her, Lucien allowed himself a dangerous fantasy-a grand wedding in Silvera, where their love could finally break free from the chains of their families' hatred.

At the height of their love, she was willing to abandon her family name for him. And he was willing to stand against the entire underworld for her.

On his thirty-second birthday, Lucien saw it with his own eyes-Mira handing over a hundred-page document to the head of the Winslow family. Soon after, the Yates Group suffered a devastating blow.

The pain tore through him, drowning everything else. He couldn't believe that the woman who had shared his nights... had betrayed him.

Mira knew nothing. The moment she stepped outside, she was taken.

Iron chains clamped around her ankles. Seawater flooded her throat. The executioner let out a cold laugh. "This is Lucien's order."

Until her final breath, she believed it was the man she loved who had sentenced her to death.

......

Mira gently slipped out of Lucien's arms. She glanced back at him on the bed-his eyes half-lidded, dark hair spread across the pillow. The usual sharpness in his expression had softened, leaving behind something almost boyish.

It was his thirty-second birthday. And the third year of their secret life together.

Her fingers brushed absentmindedly over her ring finger. It was bare-but in her heart, she had already worn his ring.

"Heading to work?" Lucien asked, his voice rough as he opened his eyes.

Mira nodded. "When I get back, I'll make your birthday cake myself."

Lucien sat up and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin against the top of her head. His warm breath brushed her ear. "Alright. When you come back, we'll go to Silvera."

He kissed her forehead-so gentle it was hard to believe he was the same man feared across the Eastern Seaboard.

But the moment Mira disappeared into the elevator, the softness on Lucien's face vanished.

He made a call. "Stay on her."

Conrad Graves had been arrested the night before. Their arms depot had been raided-too precise, as if someone had tipped them off.

There was a traitor.

His thoughts dragged him back three years-to the night Mira had been cornered by a rival gang during an operation.

He shouldn't have saved her. She was a daughter of the Winslow family. He was the leader of the Yates mafia.

Their families had been at war for generations. They were never meant to coexist.

But when he saw a blade pressed to her throat-and her refusal to beg-he fired without thinking.

When she woke in the hospital, the first thing she asked was, "Why did you save me?"

"Because of your eyes," Lucien said. "They reminded me of a Persian cat I had when I was younger. Stubborn. Beautiful."

She laughed-and then the tears fell.

From that moment on, she became the only light in his dark world.

Mira walked into a café. Her brother, Marcus Winslow, was already seated by the window, waiting for her. She handed him a document, her expression grave as she said something under her breath.

Marcus remained silent for a long moment before finally signing it.

Lucien's men watched from a distance. They saw Mira speaking with the head of the Winslow family for nearly an hour-and at the end, handing over a sealed document with deliberate care.

They were too far away to hear anything. All they could see was Mira's solemn expression-and Marcus finally nodding.

They reported back immediately. "Ms. Winslow handed her brother a classified document-over a hundred pages."

Lucien stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, his grip tightening until his knuckles blanched.

He thought of the night before, when she had leaned into his arms and said she wanted to marry him. He thought of the countless times she had looked at him with that quiet, tender gaze. He thought of the way they had first met three years ago.

None of it had been real.

She had used her body to disarm him, her softness to draw out his secrets-and then destroyed everything he had with her own hands.

Selena Hawthorne appeared at just the right moment, her voice trembling. "Lucien, Conrad has been executed. Someone submitted falsified evidence and made the charges stick. This is a devastating blow to the Yates Group."

Lucien's gaze darkened, like the sea before a storm. "Bring Mira back. I'll question her myself."

Selena accepted the order and stepped back, a faint, cold smile tugging at her lips.

She had loved Lucien for ten years-since the days when he had been nothing more than an overlooked illegitimate son of the Yates family. But ever since Mira appeared, there had been no room for anyone else in his eyes.

Now, her chance had finally come. As long as Mira disappeared, Lucien would understand-she was the only one who had ever truly cared for him.

The order had been to detain and interrogate. Selena rewrote it into something else entirely-dispose of her.

Mira stepped out of the café, still thinking about the way Lucien had looked at her that morning. Without realizing it, she smiled.

The next second, shadows lunged from the alley. A sack was thrown over her head, and she was shoved straight into a car.

The black sedan sped toward the harbor.

When the sack was ripped off, Mira saw Selena standing on the dock.

Selena walked toward her, her heels clicking sharply against the metal. "Surprised?"

Mira struggled to breathe, her voice shaking. "If Lucien finds out you kidnapped me, he won't let you get away with it!"

Selena burst into laughter. "He gave the order himself. Once he got bored, he tossed you aside. Isn't that how it always ends for women like you? And don't forget-the Winslow and Yates Group have been enemies for a century. Do you think he really loves you? You are just a tool to bring down the Winslow family."

Mira's pupils shrank. She couldn't believe it.

Selena crouched down, gripping Mira's chin with cruel fingers. "A lapdog of the Winslow family like you only lives to bite."

Cold spread through Mira's body as tears spilled uncontrollably. "That's not possible... He wouldn't..."

Selena let out a mocking laugh and gestured to the men behind her. "Tie her to an anchor and throw her in. This is Lucien's order."

Every instinct in her screamed that Selena was lying. Lucien had promised to love her for a lifetime.

But her reason whispered something else-how could the heirs of sworn enemies ever truly be together without resentment?

In the end, Lucien had never really loved her. To him, she had only ever been someone to share his bed.

Cold iron chains wrapped around Mira's ankles as she was dragged to the edge of the deck. The sharp, salty scent of the sea hit her all at once.

She turned back. Through blurred, tear-filled eyes, all she could see was Selena's twisted smile.

The next second, Mira was thrown into the dark sea.

Selena dialed Lucien's number, her voice filled with feigned anguish. "Lucien, Mira panicked. She jumped into the sea to escape."

On the other end, Lucien froze for a split second. Then, as if something inside him snapped, he hurled his phone against the wall. The screen shattered instantly.

His fists clenched tight. The pain of betrayal, the humiliation of being deceived, and the memories of every moment he had shared with Mira-they tore at him from both sides, as if he were being split in two.

Outside the office, the guards heard a roar tear through the room-raw and feral, like a wounded beast. "Mira!"

The moment Mira was thrown into the sea, freezing water rushed into her nose and mouth, and the salt, the suffocating pressure, and the pain exploding in her lungs gradually dragged her into unconsciousness.

Mira stopped struggling and let her body sink.

That night, Julian Cross was patrolling by boat when he saw someone fall into the water not far away, while another vessel sped off.

He rushed over and pulled her out.

When Mira was taken to the hospital, the doctor shook his head and said, "The nerve damage is too severe, she may never be able to walk again."

Three full years later, a miracle happened and Mira woke up, but she could only spend more than a thousand days and nights confined to a hospital bed.

After countless surgeries and endless rehabilitation, she finally regained the ability to walk, but her body had already been completely ruined.

What was even worse were the psychological effects, as darkness, enclosed spaces, and even the smell of seawater could trigger intense panic.

She developed severe PTSD and claustrophobia.

At night, Mira often dreamed of sinking into the deep sea, while Lucien stood at the bow, watching her descend with cold indifference.

From the moment she sank into the sea to her recovery, Mira spent a full five years.

After being discharged, Mira worked as a consultant at a top-tier art auction house in Northhaven.

Mira deliberately chose this job to stay away from the harbor, away from the underworld, and away from anything connected to Lucien.

She even moved to Eastborough, trying to seal that past away forever with a new job, a new identity, and a new life.

A few days later, she attended a private gallery opening on behalf of her company.

Mira wore a sharply tailored dark green silk gown, with flawless makeup and a composed, confident demeanor.

But the moment she turned and caught sight of the man standing before the painting Sea of Night out of the corner of her eye, her entire body went rigid.

It was Lucien.

He wore a custom black suit, his figure more imposing than five years ago, his profile sharp as if carved, and when his gaze swept across the crowd, the air around him seemed to freeze.

But when his eyes landed on Mira, his pupils shrank sharply, and the glass in his hand was nearly crushed.

Time seemed to stand still.

He walked toward her, each step feeling as if it landed directly on her heart.

He stopped in front of her, his gaze darkening, and said in a low voice, "Mira."

Mira's fingers trembled as she tried to step back, but her heels felt rooted to the ground.

Her throat tightened, and she could only manage to whisper, "Lucien..."

"You disappeared without a trace, not even leaving a single explanation." He stepped closer, his presence burning yet cold, and said, "And now you're back, do you think I'll just let you go?"

Mira shook her head desperately, her eyes stinging, and said, "I didn't mean to disappear like that..."

"Oh really?" He sneered and grabbed her wrist, his grip so tight it hurt to the bone, and said, "Don't tell me you didn't betray me. You didn't treat me like something you could throw away whenever you wanted."

Curious glances from the surrounding guests turned toward them.

Mira felt those stares like needles pricking her back, a ringing slowly building in her ears. She tried to pull free, but his grip was like iron, completely unyielding.

At that moment, a waiter pushed past with a cart, the crowd shifting and forcing her into a curtained display alcove in the corner. Heavy velvet curtains dropped, enclosing the space on all sides as the lights dimmed abruptly.

The moment darkness swallowed her vision, her world collapsed.

The sharp, salty scent of seawater seemed to flood her nose again, while the pain of chains dragging at her ankles flared through her nerves.

"No... don't... let me out..."

She curled up on the ground, trembling all over as tears slipped down silently, like a trapped animal stripped of all defenses.

The curtain was pulled open.

Lucien stood in the light, looking down at her as she fell apart. His chest tightened sharply, and for a moment he almost bent down to help her.

But the next second, anger overwhelmed any sympathy, remembering how she had fled five years ago. And now she was putting on this pitiful act, for who to see?

"Have you finished your act?" His voice turned cold, yet he still grabbed Mira's wrist and pulled her out of the alcove.

Mira lifted her face, and through her blurred, tear-filled vision, she saw nothing but the hatred surging in his eyes.

She simply shook her head over and over, as if trying to cast out all the grievance, fear, love, and hatred of the past five years.

Lucien looked at her despairing eyes and pained expression, feeling as if something inside his chest had been torn open.

But he couldn't allow himself to soften.

She had been the one who walked away first.

She had no right to regret it.

Lucien stared at her despair, a dull ache spreading through his chest, yet he still said coldly, "From today on, you're not going anywhere, anyone who betrays me will pay the price."

Mira fled the gallery halfway through, stumbling back to her apartment and immediately booking a flight to Frosthaven.

She couldn't stay here any longer, not even for a second.

But the moment she stepped out of the elevator with her suitcase, two black SUVs pulled up in front of her.

The doors opened, and bodyguards stepped out, respectful yet firm, "Ms. Winslow, Mr. Yates requests that you return to the estate."

She struggled, "I'm not going, let me go!"

"Sorry," the man said calmly, "Mr. Yates said that this time, you won't be given another chance to run."

Mira was brought back to Lucien, and the heavy oak doors of the estate shut behind her with a dull, echoing thud.

She didn't dare lift her head and could only stare at the intricate dark-gold patterns on the carpet, like a vast net dragging her back into the abyss of five years ago.

Lucien stood by the window, his suit jacket casually draped over a chair, his sleeves rolled to his forearms, revealing veins faintly raised along his wrists.

He said nothing, but the silence was more suffocating than any outburst.

He finally spoke, "Why did you run?"

Mira twisted the fabric of her dress, her knuckles blanching. "I didn't..."

Lucien's gaze turned cold as he said, "Where were you when Conrad died? I gave you a chance to make things right, as long as you confessed, I wouldn't kill you, but you ran, Mira, and you disappointed me."

Mira's breath caught.

Conrad's death had nothing to do with her.

But her throat felt sealed shut, and she couldn't force out a single word, as the aftermath of her trauma left her unable to speak.

Lucien stepped closer, his shadow falling over her as he said, "Did you think changing your name and moving to a new city would erase what you'd done?"

Mira stepped back until her spine pressed against the cold wall.

The enclosed space, the crushing pressure, and Lucien's presence all triggered her at once.

The scene before her began to distort.

It was no longer a luxurious room, but dark seawater.

It was no longer Lucien's face, but Selena's twisted smile.

The air no longer carried the scent of cedar, but the sharp, salty smell of the sea.

"No..."

She broke into uncontrollable cold sweats, digging her nails into her arm in an attempt to snap herself back with pain. But her body trembled uncontrollably, cold sweat soaking through her back.

Lucien frowned and said, "Who are you pretending for? When you jumped into the sea five years ago, you weren't afraid then, were you?"

Those words were like a key, unlocking the gates of hell in an instant.

Mira's pupils shrank as she let out a broken, animal-like whimper.

She slid to the ground, curling into herself and clutching her head as if that alone could keep the terror at bay.

Lucien froze. He had never seen Mira like this, fragile and shattered.

The Mira he knew had once been radiant and bold, like a beautiful Persian cat.

But in the next second, anger surged. She was acting, she had to be acting.

"Get up!" He yanked her up by the wrist with a force that nearly crushed bone and said, "Someone who betrayed me has no right to act crazy in front of me."

Mira was thrown onto the bed and struggled instinctively, not against Lucien, but against the nightmare of drowning.

But in Lucien's eyes, her struggle became rejection.

"So now you won't even let me touch you?" he sneered as he pinned her wrists down and pressed his knee against her legs, "Is it because you found someone new, or because you think I'm beneath a Winslow daughter like you?"

Mira shook her head desperately as tears poured down.

She tried to speak, but the PTSD episode left her only able to produce broken, incoherent sobs.

Lucien watched her cry, a dull ache tightening in his chest, yet his hatred only deepened.

Conrad, who had watched Lucien grow up, had died because of a woman like her.

"Since you won't speak," he said hoarsely as he grabbed the fabric at her shoulder and tore it down, "then remember it with your body, you belong to me, and you'll never escape."

The sound of tearing fabric echoed in the room.

The moment the fabric slipped from her shoulder, Mira let out a sharp, piercing scream as her body arched.

Lucien froze mid-motion.

Moonlight filtered through the curtains and fell across her bare shoulder and neck, revealing a network of pink scars crossing over one another.

Scars like these covered Mira's entire body, some from surgical stitches, others from self-inflicted wounds, leaving her looking like a rag doll torn apart and barely pieced back together.

His pupils contracted violently.

Before he could take it in, Mira suddenly stopped struggling. She lay on her back, her hollow eyes fixed on the ceiling as tears slid silently down, one drop, then another, soaking into the pillow.

She no longer cried or struggled, leaving behind only a stillness that felt like something inside her had completely died.