Chapter 89: A Mother's Wrath, A Father's Fury

The moment my trembling voice called out for my mother, the world around me seemed to shift. The pain, the fear, the cold darkness that had swallowed me whole—it all blurred when I heard them.

"Noah!"

I tried to move, my fragile body aching, but everything hurt. My limbs wouldn't obey me. My vision was hazy, my mind barely clinging to consciousness. But even through the pain, I could hear them—my family.

Then, suddenly—chaos.

A loud crash shattered the silence, and then came the roar of an explosion. A deafening sound of gunfire and screams filled the air, and through my blurry eyes, I saw shadows moving—fast.

Then, a voice. Cold as death. Sophia.

"Take them all down. No one leaves here unscathed."

A strangled cry of pain echoed nearby. Someone screamed. A gun fired. I flinched, my frail body too weak to even curl up in fear.

"Where is my little brother?" Olivia's voice cut through the noise, deadly and sharp. My sisters... they were here. They came for me.

I tried to move. I had to reach them. I had to let them know I was here. My lips parted, a whisper barely escaping. "M-Mama..."

But the moment I tried to push myself up, my body gave out.

Pain exploded in my skull, and the world spun violently. A ringing noise filled my ears. I felt myself falling, my frail form collapsing back onto the cold, bloodstained ground.

Then—darkness.

Emma's

"Noah?! Noah! Baby, answer me!"

The second I saw his tiny body collapse, everything inside me shattered.

I ran, my heels clicking violently against the cold concrete. I didn't care about anything else—not the enemies, not the blood splattered across the warehouse floor, not the bodies of those who dared to touch my son. Nothing else mattered.

"Noah! My baby!" My voice broke as I dropped to my knees beside him, scooping his tiny, battered body into my arms. My hands trembled as I brushed his bloodied hair back, my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe. "Noah, sweetheart, wake up! Please, Mama is here!"

He didn't move.

He didn't even stir.

"No... no, no, no, no!" My breathing turned ragged as I shook him gently, my hands cradling his fragile face. His skin was burning up, yet his little body was trembling uncontrollably. Bruises covered every inch of him, deep cuts littering his arms and legs, his once soft, flawless skin now covered in pain and suffering.

The sight broke me.

"Mama, is he—?" Lily's voice cracked as she knelt beside me, her hands hovering over his limp body as if she was too afraid to touch him.

Sophia, Olivia, Isabella, Emily, Charlotte, Mia, Lily—all of them—collapsed around me.

Mia sobbed uncontrollably, her hands gripping Noah's tiny fingers. Charlotte pressed trembling kisses against his knuckles, her tears dripping onto his skin. Isabella, usually so strong, clenched her fists so tightly they bled, her whole body trembling with suppressed rage.

"T-This isn't real," Olivia whispered, brushing his matted hair back. "It can't be real..."

I held him tighter, rocking him slightly, my voice hoarse and breaking. "My baby... my baby... what did they do to you...?"

A single tear slipped down my cheek, landing on his pale face. I had never felt so powerless.

But then, a dark, familiar voice cut through my despair.

"Emma."

I gasped, snapping my head up. "M-My love! Please, hurry! Our baby's health... it's not good!"

Noah's father stood in the entrance of the dark room, his face like stone. His normally sharp, calculating eyes were wild—feral. His hands, already stained with blood, clenched at his sides. His entire body radiated a fury so intense the very air seemed to crackle with it.

The second he saw our son's fragile, broken form in my arms, his expression shifted.

Something inside him snapped.

"Kill them all. Except their leader. I want him alive. We need answers." His voice was deathly calm—too calm.

"Yes, sir!" his guards responded instantly, storming into the warehouse with renewed bloodlust.

But he didn't stay to watch. He strode forward, kneeling beside me, his hands shaking as he touched Noah's small, bruised hand.

"Emma," his voice was barely a whisper, "what happened to him? Why isn't he waking up? Why—?"

I buried my face in his chest, my sobs uncontrollable. "I don't know! He won't answer us! H-He—!"

His arms wrapped around me, around all of us.

"We don't have time to cry," he said firmly, his voice thick with emotion. "We need to get him to the hospital. Now."

A fresh wave of panic shot through me. He was right.

I wiped my tears away, shaking off the grief threatening to consume me. "You're right. Let's go. Now!"

Without wasting another second, I stood, cradling Noah against my chest as I ran. The others followed, their grief momentarily pushed aside by sheer determination.

We tore through the warehouse, past the bodies of the men who had dared to hurt our baby. Past the destruction we had caused. Past the horror and into the awaiting black SUVs.

"Drive! Now!" Isabella barked, slamming the car door shut behind me.

The car roared to life, speeding off into the night.

I held Noah close, pressing desperate kisses against his forehead, whispering broken promises against his skin. "Mama's here, baby. Just hold on. Please, please hold on..."

His father sat beside me, his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders, his jaw clenched so hard it might break.

In the back seat, his sisters sat in complete silence. Their hands shaking, their faces wet with tears, their eyes burning with unrelenting rage.

Whoever had done this to Noah...

Would regret ever being born.