The Hero Returns with his Yandere Wife-Chapter 42 - 41

The night swallowed them as they tread warily toward the docks, trees and crumbling buildings cloaking their movements. Boots scuffed dirt and asphalt in near silence, the air thick with tension.

Ryn’s steps dragged, his amber eyes glinting faintly through the exhaustion pulling at his frame. Mira clung to his back, her small arms looped around his neck. Elena led the way, her eyes scanning the dark, iron skin dulled to flesh to blend into the shadows.

The heroes fanned out behind her, tense and quiet, their gazes darting to every rustling branch, watching for Skullrend’s scouts.

Mira’s black eyes flicked back, narrowing as they landed on the Vitalist trailing at the rear. The healer’s silver-gray eyes were wide, darting nervously, her hands fidgeting as she hesitated with each step.

Mira crooked a finger—sharp and commanding—beckoning her closer. The Vitalist shivered under that piercing stare, then shuffled forward, her boots crunching softly. Ryn’s brow furrowed, his amber eyes glancing over his shoulder as he noticed the Vitalist scurrying closer towards them.

"What’s up?" he asked, confusion cutting through his fatigue, his warm breath fogging in the chill.

"She stays close to us from now on," Mira said, her tone firm and low, shadows twitching at her feet. Her black eyes locked on the Vitalist, unyielding.

Ryn tilted his head. "Why?" His hand rubbed his neck, curiosity sharpening his weary gaze as it flicked between them.

"She’s an important asset for us.," Mira replied, her voice dropping to a hard edge. "Only healer we’ve got. If someone turns traitor or an enemy’s watching, they’ll aim for the leader or the medic—her."

Mira crooked her finger again. "Closer." Her voice snapped like a whip. The Vitalist stumbled forward, silver-gray eyes blinking fast, nodding quickly.

"Okay—yeah, I’ll stick close," she said, her voice quavering as green light flared in her hands. She pressed nearer, almost brushing Ryn’s side. Mira’s stare bore into her. "Don’t wander—ever. Stay close to us, so that we can shield you." The Vitalist nodded again, faster, her trembling hands settling as agreement locked in.

Mira tilted her head toward Ryn. "Heal him—now. He’s gotta be ready for Skullrend." Her tone brooked no argument, shadows flicking impatiently.

Ryn snorted, rolling his amber eyes. "I’m fine," he said stubbornly, his voice rough as he waved a dismissive hand. "Just a little beat—nothing big."

Mira’s black eyes narrowed, her small hand gripping his shoulder harder. "If you want to fight, then you have to be in your top form. I feel your heartbeat—thudding slow, exhausted. You’re dragging, Ryn." Her shadows brushed his back, sensing every strained muscle. "No half-assing this."

He smirked, mocking. "Maybe ’cause I’m lugging you around. Small, sure—but you still weigh something." His grin widened, crooked and playful, testing her as his amber eyes glinted.

Mira’s hand darted out, pinching his cheek hard. "Hey—stop that!" he yelped, voice pitching as he swatted at her, his grin faltering into a wince. She smirked, eyes gleaming, then leapt she down onto the ground, her small boots thudding softly.

Shadows swirled around her, and her gown morphed into a sleek, night-black dress that hugged her frame. Her kiddish features sharpened—mature, striking, a mysterious beauty blooming in her angled face. She looked twenty-ish yet ageless, her real form unfurling like a predator shedding a disguise, black eyes piercing the dark.

Heads turned. The wiry man with the scarred cheek gaped, his voice low and awed. "Whoa—that’s her?" Others glanced back, the woman with the singed cape whispering, "The real DarkShadow..." Her breath caught, clarity dawning, though confusion lingered—S-rank a decade ago, how was she still this young?

Vortex smirked, wind hissing faintly around him. "Still a kid to me," he said, storm-blue eyes glinting. Ironclad grunted, "Looks tougher now—good." Approval rumbled in his voice. Their stares lingered, questions burning, but no answers came.

Elena’s voice cracked through the moment. "Focus—eyes front!" Her eyes blazed, fist clenching. "Watch for scouts—move!" The group snapped forward, heads swiveling to scan trees and rooftops, attention sharpening. Ryn’s eyes flicked ahead, though Mira’s shift still buzzed in their minds, an unspoken ripple.

She smirked, hands on hips, shadows curling playfully as her dress swayed. "Now—hop on my back." Her voice teased, smug.

Ryn’s jaw dropped. "What? No—" His refusal was flat and immediate, amber eyes widening as he backed a step, hands up. "Hell no."

"Don’t worry," she purred, her smirk widening. "I won’t whine about weight—like a certain someone." Her black eyes danced, taunting, shadows creeping toward him.

"No—I can walk," he snapped, stubborn, waving her shadows off as flames flickered faintly at his fingertips. "I’m good." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Mira tilted her head, mischief dripping from her voice. "Arms then? I can carry you princess-style—easy." Shadows stretched, coiling toward his legs. Ryn swatted them back.

"Cut it!" His voice cracked, frustration glinting in his amber eyes. He knew her—if she wanted it, she’d do it. Dejection sank in.

"Why are you so damn stubborn?" he groaned, shoulders slumping, knowing the fight was lost. Her will was a wall he couldn’t burn through.

"Special offer—just for you," she grinned, bending lower, shadows flaring invitingly. Her black eyes locked on his, teasing and triumphant. Ryn sighed, deep and defeated, then climbed on awkwardly, his weight settling as her arms hooked under his knees.

She lifted him forward—steady, strong—shadows bracing her frame.

"Take a nap," she murmured, her voice softening, a teasing smile lingering. "My fault you didn’t get any—sorry ’bout that." Her black eyes flicked back, winking, heat in her tone.

Ryn’s amber eyes half-closed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah—your fault," he muttered, voice rough as he settled against her, warmth seeping in.

The Vitalist blinked, silver-gray eyes darting in confusion, her brow creasing. She stepped closer, golden light blooming as her hands hovered over Ryn’s back, unsure of their little banter just now meant. Her palms pressed to his back, light pulsing, stitching his fatigue. His shoulders eased, breath steadying, amber eyes fluttering shut.

Mira’s shadows flowed gently now, wrapping Ryn like a blanket—soft and warm—shielding him from the night’s cold bite. Her black eyes glinted, watching him drift, her grip firm as she carried him forward, pace matching Elena’s lead.

Heroes glanced back. The wiry man’s jaw twitched. "She’s somethin’," he said, voice low and awed, then flinched as Mira’s glare stabbed him. ’Eyes off!’ Her shadows flicked in warning, making him turn fast. Others regretted their peeks, snapping their gazes forward.

Ryn’s head rested on her shoulder, breath slow, amber eyes shut as her warmth soaked through. Then a pang hit—hunger, gnawing deep. His stomach growled, quiet but sharp. Could they fight like this? Starved?

The thought clawed at him as he teetered on sleep. After Catapony’s fall, they’d scavenged nothing—no food, no supplies. The freed heroes were battered, running on adrenaline and defiance, but hunger was a silent enemy creeping in. Skullrend waited ahead, and beyond him, Bloodlash and then Razorfang. He didn’t know when they would have the next chance to eat.