Page 21 of Saving Noor

“Ummi?”

The word froze the blood in her veins. It wasn’t a child’s voice. It was cracked, deeper, terrifyingly familiar.

No.

The denial was instant, violent. Not him. Anyone but him.

She had sent Samir away. She had sold her freedom to ensure he was safe. He had made his way far across the ocean, living a life of baseball and school and safety. He could not be here. He could not be in this slaughterhouse.

If he was here, she had failed.

“I’m here, Ummi,” the voice whispered again, closer now, trembling with a sorrow that shattered her heart. “I came back.”

She forced her eyes open, fighting the swelling and the tears.

A face hovered above her. Older. Leaner. The softness of childhood was gone, replaced by the sharp angles of a young man, but the eyes: large, dark, and filled with terrified love, were the same.

Samir.

He wasn’t a hallucination. He was real. And he was in danger.

The realization didn’t bring relief; it brought a surge of terrified strength. She wasn’t just a mother who had lost her daughters; she was a mother whose son had walked into the lion’s den to save her.

She tried to speak, to tell him to run, to tell him about the traps, about the baby, about the girls. But her throat was dry, her jaw stiff.

Hands touched her, gentle, skilled hands that checked for a pulse, for broken bones. Not Faisal’s hands.

“Pulse is weak,” a man’s voice said. “But she’s alive.”

Alive, Noor thought, the word echoing in the darkness.

She looked at Samir, her vision tunneling. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, but she poured every ounce of her will into her gaze, locking eyes with her son.

I will not die, she vowed silently. I have three children to save now.

Her fingers relaxed slightly around the hidden wood, but she didn’t let go. She let the darkness take her, but this time, it wasn’t a surrender. It was a tactical retreat. She would rest. She would heal.

And when she woke up, she would be ready.

12 - LINK

Link moved slowly but deliberately, cradling Noor’s fragile body against his chest. She was lighter than he had expected, but every movement had to be careful and measured to avoid jolting her broken frame. As they pushed through the thick brush bordering the estate, the cold concrete and steel fell away behind them, replaced by the muted rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig beneath their boots.

Noor’s breathing was shallow and uneven. Link felt subtle twitches beneath his arm—small movements, barely perceptible. She murmured softly, words lost in a fog as she drifted close to consciousness before slipping back, held captive by her dreams. Her fingers flexed faintly, then curled weakly around his shirt, a sign the fight inside her had not yet faded.

Link pressed a finger gently against her hand, his other hand supporting her back, a silent promise that they were there and she was no longer alone.

They could not risk using the radio with patrols so close. Instead, the team relied on hand signals and whispered orders, their voices barely above a breath, careful not to disturb the eerie stillness of the night. Link cast a swift glance at Sammy, tilting his head sharply to the side and mouthing the word “quiet,” urging silence.

Sammy felt the familiar tightening in his chest, the weight of responsibility pressing down, but he fought the instinct to panic. He may just be thirteen years old, but he had a year of working with his dad and the team to prepare for this night. He knew that the small skills drilled into him during training could not fail him now. His eyes swept over their backs, scanning every shadow behind them and every barely audible sound. He forced his breathing to be slow and steady, just like Jax had taught him. No rapid panicked breaths; calm was a weapon.

They moved cautiously through the dense underbrush, branches snagging at their clothing, the rustle of leaves beneath their boots amplified by the oppressive darkness. Shadows wrapped around them like a protective cloak, but each step demanded vigilance.

At the front, Shadow pressed ahead, senses razor-sharp, ears tuned to the faintest sound, eyes scanning for any sign of threat. Just behind him, Sammy kept his rifle ready, eyes flicking between the wilderness ahead and the shifting shadows to their sides. Occasionally, he glanced at Noor cradled carefully in Link’s arms, watching for any change in her fragile breathing. Positioning himself instinctively, he moved to guard both Noor and Link, becoming a shield against unseen dangers.

Link’s steps were slow and deliberate, every movement measured to avoid jarring Noor’s broken frame. Behind them, Tariq matched the pace of Hassan and Fatima, his eyes alert even as fatigue hit them all. Hassan’s breathing was shallow, ragged. Fatima gripped her small bags tightly, each one a lifeline. Their faces were pale but determined, pushing steadily onward despite the rough terrain.

At the rear, Jax brought up the guard, every muscle coiled, his medical pack secured tightly against his back. His gaze swept the shadows, searching for threats from behind. When Shadow suddenly gestured sharply to halt, Jax froze instantly. The tension tightened around them like a taut wire. Every crack of a twig or whisper of wind sent adrenaline surging through their veins.