Chapter 9
The base of the stairs stretched upward, dark and swallowing.
Link paused beside him, his gaze steady and searching as if trying to catch any flicker of doubt or fear.
Sammy met his dad’s eyes, fighting the swirl of memories and pain inside.
He squared his jaw and nodded firmly, letting the soldier within rise.
Link gave Sammy a small, reassuring nod.
Sammy stood upright, his hand resting loosely at his side, fingers hovering near the knife strapped to his ankle.
It was the only weapon Link had allowed him to carry.
It was a calculated choice. If things went sideways, Sammy knew he needed to be fast and light, not burdened by a rifle he wasn’t fully trained to use in close quarters.
The narrow stairwell loomed ahead, silent and still like a tomb.
With each step upward, the air grew hotter, stifling and thick.
Sammy followed closely behind Link, who took the lead, his boots rolling heel to toe to soften every sound.
Sammy felt his own muscles coil, ready for whatever might come.
At their flank, Jax moved like a shadow, eyes sharp and covering their rear.
They moved through the second floor with careful precision.
Empty rooms stretched out on either side, dust-covered sheets hanging listlessly over forgotten furniture.
The silence pressed down hard, heavy and thick.
Sammy caught the tension in Link’s body, the way his shoulders stiffened and how his eyes flicked sharply at every shadow.
It was too quiet, too unnatural for a house this size, even with the chaos outside.
At last, they reached the third-floor landing. This was the place. Their surveillance had shown Noor’s faint silhouette framed in one of the windows nearby. The hallway felt different here. Thick, opulent rugs muffled their footsteps but then something hit Sammy’s nose, sharp and acrid.
Link’s voice dropped to a whisper, rough and low. “Blood.”
Sammy’s pulse jumped but he kept his breathing slow and steady. Link’s hand slid up in a quick signal to the stack. Move fast, move silent.
Every muscle tensed. This was it.
They moved down the corridor with weapons raised, eyes sharp, scanning for tripwires or hidden guards. At the end, a heavy oak door stood slightly ajar, swinging gently in the draft from an open window. The lock was intact, but the door was carefully left open.
Link held up a fist, signaling them to stop. He pushed the door open slowly with the barrel of his rifle, sweeping the room in one smooth motion.
“Clear,” he whispered, but the word tasted bitter on his tongue.
Sammy stepped forward without hesitation, and a ragged gasp escaped him.
Inside, the scene was a nightmare. The gilded cage had turned into a slaughterhouse. Furniture lay overturned, silk curtains torn down in shreds. And in the center of it all, Noor lay crumpled, covered in blood, on the cold stone floor.
Sammy froze as the reality crashed down on him.
The soldier he had fought to become disappeared in an instant, replaced by the boy he once was, the frightened son seeing his mother broken and vulnerable.
The strong, beautiful woman he remembered, the one who had shielded him in the market, felt worlds away from the battered figure sprawled on the cold floor before him.
His eyes took in the wounds. Bruises and blood covered her small, fragile body, making her look lost in the vastness of the room.
The soft fabric of her nightgown was soaked through with dark, clotted blood.
His breath caught when he saw her swollen belly marred by a harsh abrasion shaped like the sole of a heavy boot.
The skin beneath the stained fabric was rubbed raw.
Her arms lay awkwardly at her sides. The angle of her forearms was wrong; they were twisted and broken.
But it was her hands that held his attention.
One of her hands lay open, palm facing up, like she was asking for help. The other was clenched tight, her knuckles white even though she was unconscious. In that hand, she held a jagged, bloody piece of a wooden curtain rod. The broken end was soaked with blood.
Sammy’s heart tightened. She had fought back.
He looked at her face. Her left cheek was split open where she’d been hit hard. Even with the swelling and blood, he saw something familiar—her jaw was set stubborn, just like his. She looked tired and broken, but not beaten.
“Ummi,” Sammy whispered, the word breaking the quiet. He started to move forward before he could stop himself.
A hand grabbed Sammy’s shoulder, holding him back gently but firmly. Link’s voice was low and calm as he leaned close. “Don’t rush in without looking. We need to know it’s safe first.
Sammy swallowed, struggling to hold back the urge to hurry forward, but he nodded, trusting his dad’s steady presence.
“Check the corners, Sammy,” Link murmured, keeping his voice tight and commanding to ground the boy. “Make sure we’re safe. Jax has her.”
Sammy moved cautiously, his eyes scanning every corner of the room. He checked behind the wardrobe, near the chest at the foot of the bed, and every shadow that could conceal a threat.
Behind him, Jax holstered his weapon and moved quickly to Noor’s side, dropping to his knees beside her.
Link kept his rifle raised, his gaze sweeping the room alongside Sammy’s, but his attention was fixed on Jax. He watched as Jax pressed two fingers to Noor’s neck, his expression turning grim.
The seconds stretched out, heavy and endless. Sammy’s eyes never left Noor’s pale face, his heart torn between terror and hope that she might still hold on. Every breath she took felt like a fragile promise.
Then, Jax looked up and reached for his medical bag. His voice was soft but certain. “Pulse is weak. It’s thready, but she’s alive.”
Sammy collapsed to his knees beside her, tears carving clean paths through the dust on his face. His trembling hand hovered above her shoulder, afraid to touch, afraid to cause her more pain.
“I’m here, Ummi,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I came back.”
Time seemed to slow as Jax worked: rolling up a sleeve, inserting an IV line, the pale glow of his headlamp casting shadows over bruises and blood staining her gown. Sammy watched, caught between helplessness and the small spark of relief that she was still fighting.
For a moment, nothing else mattered but being close to her.