Chapter 130

Chapter 130
NAYA'S POV

Arthur had only just stepped out to take a call, his tall frame disappearing through the wide glass doors of the hospital lobby, when the silence between Stella and me became heavy again. I kept my arm wrapped around her trembling shoulders, whispering reassurances I wasn’t entirely sure I believed myself.

“Jordan will be fine,” I told her softly, trying to pour as much certainty into my voice as I could. “He’s strong, and the nurses here look capable. He’s going to pull through.”

But even as I said it, a tight knot sat in my chest, my heartbeat thudding against my ribs like a warning drum. I had seen too many lives unravel in the blink of an eye to trust promises that weren’t mine to keep. Still, I needed Stella to hold onto something, even if it was my borrowed strength.

Her phone rang suddenly, the shrill tone cutting through the sterile air of the hospital. She fumbled with it, her hands trembling so badly I had to help steady the device in her palm. She pressed it to her ear, and I watched her expression crumble in real time.

I heard the faint voice of a boy—young, frantic—rushing through the receiver, but I couldn’t make out the words. Stella’s lips parted as though the air itself had turned poisonous. Her hand clutched mine in a grip so desperate I thought my fingers would snap.

“No…” she whispered into the phone. “No, don’t—please don’t!”

The line crackled, her sibling’s panicked voice muffled, and then it went dead. She lowered the phone slowly, almost as if it had turned into something dangerous she couldn’t keep holding, and ended the call with a final tap of her shaking thumb.

Her gaze lifted to mine, and the tears gathering in her eyes spilled over at once, streaking her face. She looked lost—like a child who had just realized the monster under her bed was real and waiting for her.

“He’s going to kill my siblings,” she said in a voice that broke apart on every syllable. “He said he’ll burn the house down with them inside if I don’t return home.”

Her words hollowed me out. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My hand flew up and clamped over my mouth, as if I could hold back the shock threatening to tumble out of me in a scream. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart racing with a fear that wasn’t entirely my own.

I thought of her siblings—children, innocent and terrified, trapped in a home that was supposed to keep them safe, now threatened with flames because of a man’s cruel thirst for power. The image clawed at me, and I felt rage coil hot and alive beneath my ribs.

I reached for Stella again, pulling her closer, cradling her head against my shoulder as though that might shield her from the weight of her uncle’s threat. She shook violently in my arms, her sobs tearing through me, making me feel like I was unraveling too.

My mind raced. Arthur needed to know immediately. He’d know what to do, or at least where to start. But another part of me, the part that was tired of always waiting for others to fix the chaos, screamed that I had to do something now.

I whispered to Stella, though my own voice shook, “We’re not going to let that happen. Do you hear me? Your siblings are not going to burn in that house. Not while I’m here.”

Even as I said it, I realized how small I felt against the shadow of Victor Cain’s cruelty. But if Stella was the bait, as she feared, then what did that make me? An accomplice by sheltering her? Or a shield by refusing to let her go back alone?

Either way, the game had changed the moment that call ended. And I knew—deep in my bones—that whatever came next would drag us deeper into Victor’s twisted war, whether we were ready or not.

Arthur had barely stepped back into the lobby when I turned to him, my words tumbling out before I could even think them through. I was still gripping Stella’s trembling hand, feeling her fingers ice-cold against mine, but I couldn’t keep what she had just said bottled up inside. It was like the weight of it was crushing my chest, and I needed someone—anyone—who could act on it.

“Arthur,” I blurted, my voice sharper than I intended, my breath rushing unevenly. He looked at me immediately, phone still in his hand, his brow pulling together when he saw my face. “It’s Stella’s uncle—Victor—he called her family. He… he said he’s going to burn the house down with all her siblings inside if she doesn’t come back.”

The words felt ugly in my mouth, like ash, like poison I couldn’t spit out fast enough. And even after I said them, the reality of them slammed into me all over again.

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkened, and I could almost see the storm forming behind his stare. He slid his phone into his pocket slowly, as if grounding himself before he lost control.

Beside me, Stella shifted, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She was holding herself like she was made of glass about to shatter. “He’ll do it,” she whispered, so faint I almost missed it. Her tears brimmed over again, sliding silently down her cheeks. “He’s serious this time… he’s always been serious, but this—” Her voice broke off and she pressed her hand to her chest like she couldn’t breathe.

I pulled her closer instinctively, like maybe if I wrapped my arms around her tightly enough, I could shield her from the horror of her reality. “No, no, don’t think like that. We’re not letting anything happen to your siblings,” I told her, even though my voice was trembling just as badly as her body.

Arthur ran a hand over his face, dragging it down to his jaw, his breath heavy. “We need to move now,” he muttered, more to himself than to us, though I caught every word. His tone had shifted—no hesitation, just steel and focus.

But I couldn’t stop staring at Stella. Her whole world was unraveling right in front of me, and she was clutching my sleeve like I was the only anchor she had left. I felt so helpless, so small against the magnitude of what Victor was threatening. A house fire. Children inside. An ultimatum wrapped in flames. My stomach churned at the thought, bile rising in my throat.

“Arthur,” I said again, softer this time, almost pleading. “We have to do something. We can’t just sit here while—while he has that kind of power over them.”

His gaze cut toward me, sharp and decisive, but there was an edge of something else in his eyes—fear, anger, maybe both. “We won’t. I promise you that,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

But Stella’s sob pulled my attention right back to her. Her lips were trembling, and she kept shaking her head over and over, whispering, “He’ll kill them. He’ll kill them,” like a mantra she couldn’t shake.

I pressed my forehead against hers, trying to steady her breathing with mine. “Listen to me, Stella,” I whispered, my own tears stinging. “You are not going back to that monster. You hear me? We’ll figure out another way. You’re not alone anymore.”

She blinked at me, wide-eyed and broken, but there was the faintest flicker there—like maybe she wanted to believe me, even if fear was still drowning her.

And all I could do was hold her tighter, even as my own hands shook. Because right then, her pain felt like my own. And I knew, deep down, there was no way I could let Victor’s threat become her reality.

I felt my whole body freeze the moment Stella broke free from us and bolted toward the cluster of nurses rushing a patient in on a stretcher. Her scream cut through the sterile, quiet hum of the hospital like glass shattering against tile. Heads turned, conversations stopped, even the air felt like it recoiled from the sound. I barely had time to register what was happening before my legs carried me forward, chasing her. Arthur was only a step behind, but Stella’s voice—God, her voice—pulled me faster than any instinct could.

When I reached her, she was already clawing against the arms of a nurse who was holding her back, her body jerking like every nerve in her was electrified. Her cries were raw, tearing out of her chest in broken waves.

“Stella, calm down—please calm down,” the nurse kept saying, her tone firm but soft, like she’d done this a thousand times with panicked family members. “I need to know your relationship to the patient.”

I grabbed Stella’s shoulders, trying to steady her, but she felt like she was slipping away, her knees buckling, her body trembling so hard I could feel the tremors in my own arms. Her face was streaked with tears, her hair sticking to her damp cheeks, her eyes wild with disbelief. And then, in a voice so cracked it barely sounded human, she forced the words out.

“She’s my mother…”

The room tilted. For a second, I thought my heart had stopped. I glanced at Arthur, his expression tightening with the kind of heaviness that said he understood immediately what this meant, what it could unravel. But my attention snapped back to Stella, who was now shaking her head over and over, whispering the same words like she was trying to convince herself it wasn’t real, that maybe if she denied it enough, the truth would unspool into something softer, something survivable.

Her mother.

The realization cut deeper the longer I stared at her. This wasn’t just about Jordan anymore. This wasn’t just about the threats from her uncle or the shadows she carried. This was blood—the one person she’d probably wanted to believe was gone, or safe, or at least not caught in the chaos of all this, was suddenly right here, broken and strapped to a stretcher.

I pressed my hand against my mouth, trying to steady the surge of shock clawing up my throat. I could taste the salt of my own tears before I even realized I was crying. I wanted to tell Stella it was going to be okay, but the words lodged inside me. How could I promise that when I didn’t even know if it was true?

Stella tried to lunge forward again, but the nurse held her firm, her voice clipped but steady. “We need space to work. Please—you’ll have to wait.”

“I can’t—she’s my mom, please—don’t take her away from me again!” Stella’s voice broke completely, crumbling into sobs that tore me in half.

Arthur stepped closer then, placing a hand on Stella’s arm, his face carved in that mix of authority and quiet strength he carried so naturally. “Stella, listen to me. You’re not losing her now. They’re helping her. But you have to let them do their job.” His voice was low, grounding, but I could see his jaw tightening as though he was trying to steady himself too.

I wrapped my arms around Stella’s shoulders and pulled her into me, feeling her entire frame collapse against mine. She clung to my shirt like it was the only solid thing keeping her from drowning. I kept whispering in her ear, though my own voice trembled, “You’re not alone. I’m here. We’re here. She’s alive, Stella. She’s alive right now.”

But even as I said it, I knew that the image of her mother, pale and lifeless-looking on that stretcher, would burn itself into Stella’s memory just as it was already searing into mine.

Arthur caught my eyes over Stella’s head, and there was something there—a silent acknowledgement that this moment wasn’t just another storm. It was the kind that could uproot everything, the kind that left nothing the same when it passed.

And for the first time that day, I realized: the danger pressing in on Stella’s family wasn’t just t hreatening her siblings at home. It had already reached farther than any of us had imagined.