Chapter 53 : The untamed Tempest

Gunshots rang out in the distance, sharp cracks slicing through the silence like unwelcome party crashers.

Sanlang barely had a second to react before Noor's entire demeanor shifted. One moment, they had been standing in that thick, suffocating tension he had come to associate with her presence—the next, she was scanning their surroundings like a predator who had just caught the scent of prey.

Her body tensed, her eyes darkened, and in that instant, Sanlang knew one thing with absolute certainty.

He was **not** the biggest threat in this situation.

He opened his mouth to say something—maybe a "Hey, are we gonna talk about the fact that I'm still hard from two minutes ago?"—but Noor was already moving.

"Come," she commanded.

And like the hopeless fool that he was, he obeyed.

They shoved their bikes into the shadows, ducking low as she led him to an old, half-rotted boat by the riverbank. Sanlang gave the thing a once-over and sighed dramatically.

"Oh great, we're escaping in a tetanus trap. Just what I always wanted."

Noor ignored him (shocking), grabbed a fishnet-like cloth, and draped it over them.

Ah, fantastic. *Nothing*screamed "inconspicuous" like two fully-grown adults wrapped up like a couple of poorly disguised fish smugglers.

The sound of footsteps drew closer.

"She is not here! We must find her, or Drangheta is gonna kill us all!"

Sanlang glanced at Noor. Her face remained cold, but her eyes?

"Lethal."

He was "so" turned on.

Which, for the record, was a "huge"problem because at that exact moment, the boat **lurched**.

And his entire body slammed right up against hers.

Sanlang sucked in a sharp breath, "praying to every divine being in existence for self-control". Unfortunately, 'God had abandoned him' the second he met Noor.

The boat was *small *Too small*. Noor was pressed against him, and every inch of his traitorous body was screaming "YESSS" while his brain was frantically trying to perform CPR on his dignity.

Another wave hit, and oh, what a wonderful surprise—"he was now fully grinding against Noor."

This was it. This was how he died. Not by gunfire. Not by an enemy's blade. No. He was going to "die of shame" because his body had betrayed him in the worst way possible.

He tried—TRIED—to will his arousal away, but then Noor shifted slightly, and—

No.

No, no, no, Nooooooo.

She was "soft". Her body was "warm". And her waist? "Fit perfectly in his hands."

Oh, and what was that? He was supposed to be focused on staying alive?

Yeah, well, too late for that.

Sanlang panicked. So, naturally, he made the absolute worst possible decision—he "moved".

Just slightly. Just a little. Just enough to—

OH GOD.

OH "GOD".

ABORT MISSION.

Sanlang's life flashed before his eyes, because he had officially lost control. He was thrusting against her—so subtly that it could technically be blamed on the movement of the boat, but he knew the truth.

He braced himself for the inevitable moment when she would shove him off, maybe throw him into the freezing water as a punishment for his perversion.

Noor. Did. Nothing.

No reaction. No shift in posture. Not even a single change in her breathing.

Sanlang, on the other hand?

A broken, suffering man.

"We're getting out," Noor murmured suddenly.

Sanlang barely had time to register her words before she grabbed him and flung them both into the river like an unwanted shipment of expired fish.

---

"Cold."

"Freezing."

LIFE-RUINING.

Sanlang screamed as the icy water punched his soul out of his body.

He surfaced, gasping like a drowning man, because he was one.

"You—" cough "Are you insane?!"

Noor, perfectly calm, swam ahead like she was taking a leisurely midnight swim.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Would you rather have stayed in the boat?"

Sanlang, who had been two seconds away from defiling himself in said boat, glared at her. "YES. I WOULD'VE RISKED IT."

Noor simply kept swimming, as if this was just another normal Tuesday for her.

Sanlang shivered violently, still painfully aware of his previous situation.

"GOD, WHY? WHY DID SHE HAVE TO BE BUILT LIKE A SIN AND SMELL LIKE TEMPTATION? AND WHY DO I HAVE TO BE A MAN WITH ZERO SELF-CONTROL?"

As they made it to shore, Sanlang collapsed onto the ground, defeated.

He was cold and frustrated from the ordeal. And Noor? Noor just walked past him like he wasn't currently fighting for his sanity.

Maya and Zeyla were waiting when they arrived.

Zeyla, seeing Sanlang's traumatized state, raised a brow. "Why does he look like a goldfish who's just seen the face of God?"

Maya crossed her arms, unimpressed. "What happened?"

Sanlang, still sprawled out, freezing, and utterly wrecked, let out a hollow laugh.

"I saw death," he wheezed.

Zeyla smirked. "Oh? And what did it look like?"

Sanlang's eyes drifted to Noor, who was calmly fixing her clothes like she hadn't just ruined his life.

"...Leather. And a lack of concern for my suffering."

Maya let out a long, exhausted sigh. "So, the usual?"

Sanlang groaned and flopped onto his back, staring at the sky, completely defeated.

"Yes. The usual. And I hate every second of it."

Maya and Zeyla exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

Sanlang groaned louder.

This was the worst night of his life.

And the worst part?

He knew he'd do it all over again.

_______

The night screamed.

Gunfire ripped through the silence, punctuated by the sickening crunch of bone meeting pavement.

Sanlang should have been ready. He wasn't.

The moment she gave the order— "Maya, Zeyla—go ahead." —they vanished. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Sanlang did neither of those things.

Instead, he blinked. "Wait. We're just—sending them off alone?"

"They'll be fine." Noor's voice was calm, detached, as if she were discussing tea preferences .

Sanlang forced out a laugh. "Oh, sure. Because that's normal. Let's just send two women into the literal gunfire. Nothing concerning about that at all."

Noor didn't answer. She was already moving.

And then—

The screams began.

Horrible, guttural, unnatural screams.

Sanlang froze.

He turned to Noor, genuinely distressed. "Oh my God. What's happening?"

Noor's gaze remained unbothered.

A severed head flew past them.

Sanlang's soul ascended to the heavens.

Noor barely blinked. "That's Maya."

WHAT.

Sanlang stared in pure, abject horror as they reached the clearing.

The battlefield was no longer a battlefield.

It was a graveyard in the making.

Bodies lay strewn like discarded dolls—limbs twisted, heads crushed, bones shattered like fragile glass.

And in the center of it all?

Maya.

Dripping in blood, sweat, and pure, unfiltered carnage.

Her chest rose and fell with erratic breaths, her fingers still clenched around the throat of a man who had long since stopped breathing. Her eyes, dark and wild, gleamed in the firelight—a predator in her element.

She looked like she had been kissed by war itself.

Sanlang took a slow step back.

Maya turned to him, grinning, her teeth gleaming amidst the splatter of red across her face.

"You're late," she giggled.

Sanlang, not okay, leaned toward Noor and whispered:

"She's ....what is she ..A demon."

Noor sighed, rubbing her temples. "Not now, Sanlang."

Maya, still grinning, tilted her head at him. "You look scared. Why?"

Sanlang forced a laugh, a little too high-pitched, a little too close to a man clinging onto the last shreds of his sanity.

"Oh, I don't know, Maya. Maybe because you just tore out a man's throat with your teeth."

Maya wiped the blood from her cheek, unfazed. "I was improvising."

"IMPROVISING?" Sanlang nearly lost it. "WHAT IN GOD'S NAME COULD POSSIBLY REQUIRE THAT AS AN IMPROVISATION?"

Maya only smiled, stepping closer. "You should be grateful I'm on your side."

Sanlang, who absolutely was not grateful, took another step back.

Then the second wave of gunfire erupted.

From the trees, from the ruins—more enemies. A flood of them.

Sanlang barely had time to curse before Zeyla lunged forward, her dagger glinting under the moonlight, a storm of steel and fury.

A man swung at her with a crowbar.

Big mistake.

Zeyla ducked, pivoted, and shoved her dagger straight through his ribs—a clean, precise kill. Another rushed at her, and without so much as blinking, she caught his arm, snapped it like dry wood, and kicked him so hard his body lifted off the ground.

Sanlang winced. "Oh..Dear God."

Zeyla, her voice eerily calm, adjusted her gloves. "We should wrap this up quickly."

Sanlang threw up his hands. "Oh, should we? Like it's a casual dinner gathering?"

Noor was already moving.

Her presence alone was enough to shift the battlefield.

She was fast. Inhumanly fast.

One moment, she was beside them. The next, she was in the middle of a group of men, her blade slicing through flesh like it was cutting through air itself.

Sanlang barely caught his breath before she dropped a man with a single hit, grabbed another by the throat, and threw him like he was weightless.

His body hit a tree with a sickening crunch.

Sanlang… needed a moment.

He wasn't sure if he was horrified or wildly turned on.

Probably both.

A sharp cry rang through the air.

Sanlang turned— Zeyla.

She was on the ground. A massive boulder pinned her leg.

Her face twisted in pain, her fingers clawing at the dirt.

Maya was at her side in an instant. "Zeyla, don't move. We'll—"

"Don't," Zeyla hissed through gritted teeth. "We need to—"

Noor was already there.

And when she saw Zeyla trapped beneath the boulder, her entire face changed.

Sanlang had never seen Noor look afraid before.

Noor dropped to her knees beside Zeyla, her sharp eyes taking in every detail—the unnatural angle of Zeyla's trapped leg, the sickening amount of blood pooling around it, the way Zeyla's fingers clawed at the dirt in agony.

Zeyla let out a raw, gut-wrenching screech, her body trembling violently. "I—I can't feel my leg!"

Maya's breath hitched, her pulse racing. The blood—there was too much of it. Too fast. Too dark. "Madam Noor," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with something rare—fear. "We have to get her out. Now."

Noor didn't answer.

Her gaze was locked on the massive boulder crushing Zeyla's leg. It wasn't just heavy. It was huge, its jagged edges glistening with fresh crimson where flesh had been torn beneath its weight.

And Noor—

Her fingers curled around the rough surface, her grip tightening like a vice. Her nails, sharp and unyielding, dug into the stone itself, carving deep indentations into the unbreakable surface.

Veins bulged along her hands and forearms, running up to her straining shoulders, pulsing against the skin like a network of living fury. The tendons in her neck stood out sharply, her jaw locking into place as every fiber of her body coiled like a beast ready to strike.

The veins surged higher—to her temples, her forehead, crawling up like blackened roots beneath her skin.

And then—her eyes.

A sudden, terrifying glow.

Not soft, not subtle. Red, furious, inhuman.

Maya took a step back.

She had seen Noor fight. Seen her kill. Seen her take down monsters in human form without blinking.

But she had never seen her like this.

Noor's fingers clenched tighter, the stone itself beginning to crack under the sheer force of her grip.

Her breath came out in slow, measured exhales—controlled, but barely. Barely human.

Sanlang, frozen in place, barely managed a breath as Noor pushed.

The boulder refused to move.

Her muscles tensed, her arms shaking with the sheer pressure of exertion. Blood trickled down from where her nails had dug too deep into the stone, but she didn't stop. The veins running up her arms darkened further, her entire body trembling with power.

Then, with a sound like splitting earth, the rock shifted.

A sharp exhale left Noor's lips as she forced the boulder higher, inch by inch, the ground beneath it groaning under the sudden shift in weight. Her arms shook violently, the strain sending ripples of tension through her entire body. Her legs dug into the dirt, anchoring her as she gave one final, monstrous push.

The boulder crashed aside.

Zeyla gasped, her scream cutting off as fresh pain shot through her now-freed leg. Her entire body went rigid, but the relief was instant.

Noor staggered back, her chest heaving. Her hands, still curled as if she could still feel the stone's weight, trembled at her sides. Blood dripped from her fingers, her nails cracked, her veins still pulsing with the remnants of impossible strength.

Maya was still staring, her mouth slightly open.

Sanlang exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

Maya finally turned to him, blinking as if snapping out of a trance. "Sanlang, please."

Zeyla, still in pain, managed a weak grin. "That was… excessive."

Noor, her breathing slowing, shot her a look. "You were trapped under a rock, Zeyla."

Sanlang, hands on his hips, gestured wildly at Noor. "YES, LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT. LET'S TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOU JUST CASUALLY LIFTED A BOULDER—LIKE A DEMON FROM HELL."

Noor ignored him.

Of course, she did.

And as she lifted Zeyla effortlessly into her arms, Sanlang just… gave up.

Maya sighed. "Sanlang. Stop looking at her like that."

Sanlang, voice hoarse: "Like what?"

"Like she's the reason you're going to need therapy."

Sanlang let out a hysterical laugh.

"Oh, Maya."

"I think we're way past that."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Sanlang, genuinely speechless, let out a strangled breath.

Noor, still catching her breath, shot her a look. "You were trapped under a rock, Zeyla."

And as she lifted Zeyla effortlessly into her arms, Sanlang just… gave up.

He watched her walk away, his entire belief system shattered.

Noor swiftly removed her jacket, her hands moving with a precision that came from years of experience. The fabric tore easily under her grip, the sharp sound cutting through the night like a warning. She barely noticed the sting as her nails scraped against her own wounds—her mind was entirely on Zeyla.

She wrapped the torn jacket tightly around Zeyla's leg, her fingers pressing into the deep wound. Too much blood. Too fast. Noor's jaw clenched.

This is bad. This is really bad.

Zeyla's body had gone limp, her breath shallow, her skin deathly pale. The fight had left her, slipping through her fingers like the blood pooling beneath her.

Noor pressed down harder.

No. Not you too.

Maya crouched beside her, eyes wide with something dangerously close to panic. "She's losing too much blood," Maya rasped, her voice thinner than usual. "Madam Noor, we need to move—now!"

Noor didn't answer. She couldn't.

Her focus was razor-sharp, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She tightened the makeshift bandage with one final tug, her knuckles white from the force of it. Her fingers trembled, but not from exhaustion.

If I had been faster. If I had paid more attention. If I had—

A shallow breath rasped from Zeyla's lips, a barely-there sound that sent a spike of terror through Noor's chest.

Maya gripped Zeyla's hand, her own fingers bloodstained and shaking. "She's slipping."

Noor exhaled sharply.

Not here. Not now. Not her.

She gathered Zeyla into her arms, lifting her effortlessly despite the dead weight pressing against her chest. The warmth of Zeyla's body was fading, but Noor refused to acknowledge it.

Her grip tightened.

Not on my watch.

The veins in her arms bulged from the strain, her muscles protesting the movement, but she ignored everything except the rhythmic rise and fall of Zeyla's breath against her own skin.

A breath that was too shallow.

Too weak.

She mounted her bike, securing Zeyla against her, feeling the limpness in her limbs—how lifeless she felt compared to only moments ago. The thought made Noor's stomach twist in a way she didn't allow herself to name.

Sanlang and Maya scrambled onto their bikes behind her, their engines roaring to life.

Noor's grip on the handlebars was tight. Too tight.

But as she sped into the night, pushing the bike faster than she ever had before, her throat ached with something dangerously close to a plea.

Noor stood by Zeyla's bedside, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. The soft beeping of the monitors did nothing to soothe the inferno raging within her.

Zeyla's face was too pale. The bandages around her leg were thick with fresh gauze, the scent of antiseptic hanging heavy in the air. Noor's nails bit into her palms, drawing sharp crescents of pain—but it was nothing compared to the wrath churning in her chest.

Drangheta.

Those dogs dared to touch what was hers.

Her grip on the hospital bed's railing tightened, her knuckles going white. They think they can test me? They think they can take from me and live to see another day?

A slow exhale, measured but trembling at the edges.

She didn't believe in mercy. She never had. But tonight, her hatred burned hotter than ever.

She was going to find them.

And she was going to end them.

Piece by piece.

Noor took one last look at Zeyla before turning, waves swallowed a fleet whole.

Maya was waiting by the door, clipboard in hand, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion on her face. She barely spoke a word as Noor strode past her, but something in her expression shifted.

Noor's voice was smooth as glass when she finally spoke. "Drangheta."

Maya nodded once. Noor didn't need details—she already knew what had to be done.

Without another word, Noor disappeared down the hallway.

The air left behind was suffocating.

Sanlang had been watching the entire time, his hands shoved into his pockets, brow furrowed. The name Noor had spoken—Drangheta—meant nothing to him. But the way it curdled the air around her, the way her fingers twitched like she was resisting the urge to crush something beneath them…

Something about it made his stomach turn.

He turned to Maya. "Okay. I'll bite.?"

Maya exhaled sharply, her fingers pressing into the clipboard like she was holding back too much at once.

"You really don't know what you've walked into, do you?" she muttered.

Sanlang gave a humorless laugh. "Oh, I have some idea. Noor is obviously powerful as hell, terrifying, and I'm pretty sure she owns a small army, but what's with the way she just—changed? She looked ready to burn down a city."

Maya tilted her head slightly, studying him. "That's because she is."

Sanlang blinked. "Come again?"

"Drangheta isn't just some street gang, Sanlang. They're an organization older than most empires. They don't fight battles. They wage wars. And Madam Noor—" Maya let out a slow breath, her voice lowering. "She's been at war with them for years."

Sanlang straightened slightly. "...Years?"

Maya finally turned to face him fully. Her expression was unreadable, but her next words sent an unnatural chill through his bones.

"Sanlang, Madam Noor doesn't have enemies. She has armies against her. Nations. Organizations that would rather erase her than risk standing in her way. And Drangheta? They're just one of many."

His breath hitched. "...How many?"

Maya gave him a look that sent ice down his spine.

"Too many to count."

The weight of that reality settled onto his shoulders, pressing down with a force he hadn't expected.

"And yet she's still here," he murmured, half to himself.

Maya's lips curled in something that wasn't quite a smile. "That's because she doesn't lose."

Sanlang let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair.

He had always known Noor was different. That she wasn't just some powerful woman with money and influence.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

He wasn't standing beside a queen.

He was standing beside a storm.

And if he stayed?

If he truly let himself walk further into her world?

Sanlang let out a sharp breath, dragging a shaky hand through his wet hair. His mind raced, trying to process everything Maya had just told him, but it was like trying to hold onto sand in a storm.

Noor didn't have enemies.

She had organizations older than governments hunting her down.

She wasn't fighting small battles. She was waging wars—silent, brutal wars that never made headlines, but shifted the power of entire empires.

And yet, she was still here.

She was still standing.

He let out a half-laugh, half-scoff, shaking his head. "That's—" He stopped himself, rubbing his temples as if that would somehow put his crumbling sanity back together. "That's not possible."

Maya didn't even blink. "Then you haven't been paying attention."

Sanlang laughed again, but this time, it was hollow. Oh, I've been paying attention.That's the problem.

This entire time, he had thought he was just dealing with Noor. Just one impossibly untouchable woman.

But Noor wasn't just one woman.

She was an entire goddamn force of nature.

The weight of it settled into his bones. If he chose to stay—if he really wanted to stand beside Noor—he wouldn't just be giving up his comfortable, normal life.

He'd be stepping into a world where humanity was a weakness.

A world where the only law was survival.

He swallowed, his throat dry despite the freezing water still clinging to his skin. "And she just... fights them? Like it's normal?"

Maya sighed, crossing her arms. "Sanlang, Madam Noor doesn't fight battles. She ends them. That's why they fear her."

Sanlang let out a hollow laugh, staring at the hospital ceiling like it might hold the answers to the universe. He was in too deep.

And the worst part?

He didn't want to leave.

Before he could spiral any further, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway.

A figure stormed in—tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating barely-contained frustration.

Heath.

The moment he spotted Maya, his sharp gaze narrowed like a hawk locking onto its prey.

"Where is she?" he demanded, voice like thunder.

Maya, completely unfazed, popped a bubblegum bubble and checked her nails. "Which 'she' are we talking about? Noor, Zeyla, or the tiny shred of patience I have left for you?"

Sanlang, already barely holding onto reality, just stared.

Did Maya just—?

Heath's eye twitched. "Zeyla. Where is she?"

Maya sighed dramatically. "Recovering from her near-death experience, obviously." She waved a hand lazily. "You're welcome, by the way."

Heath didn't look amused. "Explain. Now."

Maya grinned. "Oh, of course, Your Royal Highness. Right away. Would you like me to summarize the traumatizing events or give you the full uncensored horror story?"

Sanlang blinked. Why do I feel like this is a regular thing?

Heath crossed his arms, exuding peak 'tired single dad dealing with problem children' energy. "Maya—"

Maya cut him off, flipping through her clipboard like she was reading a grocery list.

"Okay, fine. Here's the breakdown:

Zeyla nearly died because some miserable excuses for human beings thought they could outplay Our Royal highness Noor.

Our Madam ofcourse.....lifted a damn boulder with her bare hands, because, apparently, gravity is just a suggestion to her.

Sanlang nearly passed out from sheer existential crisis.

I, meanwhile, was flawless as always and saved the day."

Heath pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly like a man trying very hard not to commit murder. "Maya, please. A real report."

Maya rolled her eyes but relented. "Fine. Zeyla was critically injured—major blood loss, severe trauma to the leg.Madam Noor's intervention kept her stable, but she's going to need extensive recovery time."

That made Heath pause. His brows furrowed, the flicker of worry unmistakable.

Maya noticed. "She'll be fine," she added, softer this time.

Heath nodded, exhaling. "And Noor?"

Maya's smirk returned. "Oh, you know. Planning vengeance on an apocalyptic scale. The usual."

Heath muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer..."...that uncanny women ..what is she upto this time?"

Sanlang, still lost in the abyss of his own thoughts, finally spoke.

"So… Noor is actually insane."

Maya grinned. "Oh, absolutely."

Sanlang ran a hand down his face. "And I'm just supposed to accept that?"

Heath gave him a once-over, then looked at Maya. "Why is he even here?"

Maya smirked. "Oh, he's Noor's latest project. She hasn't decided whether to keep him or break him yet."

Sanlang let out a weak laugh. "Oh. That's one hell of an introduction.Maya."

Heath sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "I'm too sober for this."

Maya clapped him on the back. "Then drink, darling. We're going to need it."

Sanlang, now fully regretting every life decision he had ever made, just groaned loudly and flopped onto the nearest chair.

His life was no longer his own.

And somehow, he was completely okay with that.

______

The estate was silent.

Not the peaceful kind of silence, but the kind that precedes a calamity—thick, suffocating, heavy with the weight of something about to break.

And Noor was at the center of it.

She descended the grand staircase slowly, her silk dress flowing around her like the calm surface of a black sea. But beneath that calm, beneath the pristine elegance—a storm was raging.

Her veins pulsed, climbing up her forearms, her throat, her temples—each beat of her heart sending ripples of fury through her body. Her usually composed hands twitched, her fingers aching to clench into a fist, to crush, to destroy.

She did not acknowledge the guards standing frozen at attention. She did not look at the attendants who dared not even breathe too loudly.

She walked straight ahead, her steps measured, precise—lethal.

A servant, oblivious to the impending wrath, hurried forward with a tray of tea, his hands slightly trembling. "Madam Noor," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, "your tea."

Noor reached for the cup.

And the moment her fingers brushed the porcelain—

It shattered.

Not cracked. Not spilled.

Shattered into dust.

A sharp gasp rippled through the room. The servant stumbled back, staring at his empty tray in horrified disbelief.

Noor didn't even flinch.

She simply stared at the remnants of the cup, the fine powder slipping between her fingers, the tiny shards glittering against her pale skin.

Her rage was past the point of control—it had become something physical, something that turned porcelain into nothingness with a mere touch.

The attendants did not move. The guards did not blink.

Noor exhaled slowly, setting the empty saucer back onto the tray with chilling precision.

A single command, cold and final, left her lips.

"Clean it up."

The servant fled.

---

For a moment, silence reigned once more.

Then—chaos.

A stampede of tiny feet thundered down the hallway, and before anyone could react, a group of giggling children burst into the room.

"MOTHERRRR!!"

Like a swarm of tiny, overexcited bandits, they launched themselves at her—sticky hands, wild hair.

A small boy climbed straight up her skirt like a tree. Another attached himself to her leg with all the determination of a battle-hardened soldier. A little girl grabbed her wrist, unbothered by the veins pulsing beneath her skin, and waved Noor's own hand like a puppet.

" you promised you'd tell us a bedtime story!"

"Motherr! Play with us!!"

"Did you see? I punched the training dummy today! Like this—HIYAAAHH—OW, my hand!"

The guards stared in horror.

The servants held their breath.

Everyone in the room knew one thing—this was a death wish.

Even Maya, who was entering the hall, stopped mid-step, her face torn between horror and morbid curiosity.

"Oh my God," Maya whispered. "Are they… insane?"

Sanlang, who had just barely recovered from his own crisis, watched the scene unfold with a kind of secondhand terror.

Noor, who had just sent the heads flying,now covered in tiny, fearless children.

A tension unlike any other settled over the estate.

For one moment, everyone waited for her to give in—to soften, to sigh, to allow the tiniest bit of warmth to melt away the fury beneath her skin.

But this time—she did not.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Noor reached up, peeled the small boy off her skirt, set him back on the ground, and took a step back.

The warmth that usually ghosted her features when she saw them? Gone.

Her eyes—red-rimmed with fury—remained untouched by their laughter, by their affection, by the way they clung to her like baby wolves seeking comfort.

"Take them away," Noor ordered.

The servants sprang into action, gathering the children before they could protest.

"But mother—"

"I have things to do."

Her voice wasn't cruel, but it was unchanging, unwavering—untouchable.

The children, sensing something was different, hesitated. Even the most mischievous among them fell silent as Noor turned and walked away, her rage still pulsing, still consuming.

Sanlang watched her go, a shiver running down his spine.

The children had always been her one weakness. The one thing that could anchor her back to something human.

But tonight?

Tonight, not even they could reach her.