The Hero Returns with his Yandere Wife-Chapter 34 - 33

Elena swallowed hard—her gaze flickered toward Mira, still perched on Ryn’s back, her expression unreadable—black eyes gleamed in the dim light, sharp as daggers, giving nothing away. Elena forced a breath, her voice steady despite the bile rising in her throat.

"No," she lied, turning away from the window, her hand clenching into a fist.

Ryn raised an eyebrow, studying her—his amber eyes narrowed slightly. "You okay?" he asked, his tone probing, sensing the shift in her.

"I think you should heal her instead of me," he said to the Vitalist, nodding toward Elena—his voice softened, a rare gentleness breaking through the roughness.

The medic blinked, confusion flashing across her face—her gaze darted between Ryn and Mira before she nodded quickly, hurrying to Elena’s side—green light bloomed from her hands as she pressed them against Elena’s bruised arm, the warmth seeping into aching muscles, easing the weight pressing against her bones.

The Vitalist looked to her left, her eyes drifting toward the window—curiosity tugging at her—but Elena’s hand moved fast, gently covering her eyes. "Don’t," she whispered, her voice low, firm—a warning wrapped in kindness.

The medic stiffened—her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t argue, her hands trembling slightly as the green light pulsed stronger, finishing its work.

They descended further, reaching the ground floor—the silence followed them, thick and suffocating, broken only by the crunch of debris underfoot and the faint drip of water somewhere in the dark. Mira finally spoke, her voice cutting through the stillness—sharp, casual. "See? I told you, I took care of everything. We’re fine."

Ryn’s jaw tightened—he stayed skeptical, his amber eyes scanning the shadows as they stepped toward the exit. "You never know what’s waiting," he said, his tone low, cautious, hand flexing as if itching for flames.

Mira pouted, her small form shifting on his back—shadows flickered lazily at her feet. "Just trust me," she said, her voice teasing but edged with confidence.

Ryn nodded slowly—didn’t relax, his posture still coiled. "Still feels like there were more," he muttered, glancing at the bodies they’d passed, counting the dead in his head.

Mira shrugged, her smirk faint—black eyes glinted as she settled against him. "They ran, I guess," she said, her tone dismissive, as if the carnage was a minor chore.

"Looks like it," Ryn replied, his voice flat—his gaze lingered on a shredded corpse, shadows still curling faintly in its wounds, a signature too familiar.

They stepped outside—cool night air hit their faces, the open street stretching ahead toward Catapony’s hideout, rubble crunching under their boots as they moved freely through the stillness. Ryn glanced at Elena, noticing her silence—her steps lagged slightly, her steel-blue eyes dulled by exhaustion.

"Hey," he said, slowing to match her pace. "You good? What’s the plan?"

Elena exhaled—a long, heavy breath, her exhaustion finally catching up, dragging at her limbs like lead.

"We head to Catapony’s," she said, her voice steady but strained. "Check if there are any prisoned heroes inside. If there are, we get them out."

Ryn nodded—his amber eyes flicked ahead, sharp and focused. "Sounds solid," he said, his tone firm, already mapping the path in his mind.

Mira, draped over his back, was already asleep—her small form rose and fell with his breath, shadows curling faintly around her fingers, her black hair spilling over his shoulder. "That fast?" Ryn muttered—his voice softened, a faint chuckle breaking through as he adjusted her weight, careful not to wake her.

Elena barely managed a tired smirk—her steel-blue eyes glinted briefly, a flicker of warmth piercing the weariness. "You’ll have to carry her, then," she said, her tone dry but fond, falling into step beside him.

And with that, they moved towards Catapony’s half destroyed base.

One hour ago...

Mira sat on the edge of a table, idly watching the surrendered villains in Catapony’s hideout. They were quiet—too quiet. Their backs were straight, their breathing controlled, as if they thought staying perfectly still would make her forget they were there.

She tapped her fingers against the wood.

She didn’t care about them. Not really.

Her mind was elsewhere.

Ryn had taken Elena and left.

The thought made something coil tight in her chest. He had carried Elena.

Carried.

Mira knew why—Elena had been injured, and Ryn had always been annoyingly heroic. But still...

Ryn and Elena used to have a thing back then, what if...?

Her fingers stopped tapping.

A faint crack of tension ran through the table beneath her touch.

The villains sitting closest to her flinched.

Mira exhaled, forcing herself to focus on something else. It had been a while since Ryn last fought seriously. He hadn’t used his powers at full strength in years. Could his body still handle it?

Of course it could.

He was strong. She knew it.

Still...

Her black eyes flicked toward the grunt who had given Ryn the hospital’s location earlier.

"You," she said.

The man stiffened. "Y-yes?"

Mira’s expression was unreadable. "That hospital. Was it guarded?"

The grunt nodded quickly. "Y-yeah. Heavily."

"By who?"

"A lot of guys. And the boss there—Dr. Muscle. S-rank. He’s insane in close combat."

Mira gave a slow blink.

The grunt continued, his voice dropping lower. "He’s got a sidekick, too. Some girl, always covered in a robe. She’s always near him, makes shields in thin air."

Mira didn’t react.

Then, slowly, she sighed.

"How annoying."

The grunt blinked. "W-what?"

Mira leaned forward, resting her chin against one hand. "I know Ryn’s fine. But if I don’t check, I won’t be able to myself."

The grunt hesitated. "Uh... what?"

Mira tilted her head. "It means I am wasting my time with you useless people."

Schlick.

A blade of pure shadow sliced through the air.

The grunt’s head separated from his shoulders in an instant.

And before any of the others could react—

More shadows struck.

One by one, heads tumbled to the ground.

The bodies collapsed soon after, the room falling into eerie silence.

Mira flicked her wrist. Dark tendrils lifted the remains and scattered them into the surrounding trees and bushes. By the time she was done, there wasn’t a single trace left.

Clean. Quick.

She stood up from the table and stretched.

Then, in a whisper, she murmured—

"I’m coming, Ryn."

Her form blurred.

Then she was gone, tearing through the night at impossible speed.

She knew Ryn could handle himself.

But she’d never been the type to hope things were fine.

She always made sure.