They Took My Daughter’s Heart

Chapter 008

Three hundred thousand Dragon Riders had already been mobilized, their command consolidated under Thomas Reed, whose presence alone carried the weight of iron discipline and unspoken authority. Orders moved through encrypted channels, relayed in clipped phrases and silent nods, as if even the air itself understood that hesitation was not permitted tonight.

As for Sophie Walker and little Gabby, Dylan Brooks had personally ensured that they were escorted to one of the most secure five-star hotels in the city. It was not the sort of luxury chosen for comfort alone, but for control—restricted floors, reinforced structures, private medical suites, and a security architecture designed to withstand everything short of a full-scale siege.

Before leaving, Dylan had stationed three thousand fully armed Dragon Riders around the hotel. They were not ceremonial guards. Every soldier carried live ammunition, every perimeter was layered with overlapping fields of fire, and every access point was monitored in real time. Their sole mission was simple and absolute: protect the woman who mattered most to their commander, and the fragile little girl who had already endured far more suffering than any child ever should.

In addition to those three thousand elite troops, Charles Bennett, the Master of Divine Herb Vale, remained inside the hotel. He had refused to leave, insisting that no force on earth would move him away until the child’s condition had stabilized beyond doubt.

At that very moment, Charles Bennett and the Grand Physician of Divine Herb Vale were working together in near silence, carefully tending to Gabby’s battered body. The room smelled faintly of sterilizing agents and rare medicinal herbs, a strange mixture of modern science and ancient practice. One by one, slender silver needles were placed with painstaking precision into indistinct pressure points along the child’s arms, back, and chest. Their exact locations were known only to masters who had spent decades studying the hidden pathways of the human body.

Watching those needles pierce her daughter’s frail skin, Sophie Walker’s tears fell without restraint. They streamed down her cheeks like a broken necklace of pearls, her voice trembling as she asked, again and again, “Is my daughter going to be all right? Why hasn’t she woken up yet? Please… someone tell me she’s going to be okay.”

“Please rest assured,” Charles Bennett said softly, his tone steady but respectful. “There is no longer any immediate danger to her life. We are restoring her vitality and helping her body recover. It will take time, but she is safe for now.”

As if responding to his words, the child lying on the bed stirred. Gabby’s eyelashes fluttered, and slowly—so slowly it almost felt like a miracle—her eyes opened.

“M-Mommy…” she whispered, her voice thin and fragile.

“I’m here, sweetheart. Mommy’s here,” Sophie cried, rushing forward and clasping her daughter’s tiny hand in both of her own. “Don’t be scared. Mommy will protect you. You’re going to be all right. You have to be all right… I can’t live without you.”

Her words came out in a rush, each one breaking under the weight of fear and love, while tears the size of small beads continued to fall onto the white hospital sheets.

Her daughter was only four years old. Four. And she had been subjected to horrors that no adult should ever endure—blood drained, her body violated, her heart nearly taken from her. Every time Sophie thought about it, it felt as though countless invisible blades were carving into her chest, twisting deeper with every breath.

“My sweet girl,” she sobbed softly, lowering her forehead until it touched Gabby’s hair. “From now on, Mommy will protect you. No matter what it takes. I swear it. No one will ever hurt you again.”

Despite the pain wracking her small body, Gabby struggled to lift her hand. The effort alone made her brow crease, and her breathing grew shallow, but she refused to stop. With trembling fingers, she gently wiped away the tears on her mother’s face.

“Mommy… don’t cry,” she murmured weakly. “Please don’t cry.”

“I won’t,” Sophie said quickly, using the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks, forcing a smile that barely held together. “Mommy’s not crying anymore.”

After a moment of silence, Gabby spoke again, her voice drifting like a fading dream. “Mommy… I dreamed about Daddy.”

Sophie froze.

“In my dream,” the little girl continued, “Daddy chased away all the bad people. He was like… like a hero from the sky. He jumped down from an airplane and scared them away.”

Her breathing hitched slightly as she went on. “And Daddy hugged me. But I couldn’t open my eyes. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see him. I could only hear his voice.”

Tears welled up in the corners of Gabby’s eyes. “Mommy… was that just a dream? I really want to see Daddy. I want to know what he looks like. Even if it’s just once.”

As she spoke, her tears spilled over, soaking into the pillow beneath her head.

Nearby, Charles Bennett’s hands curled slowly into fists. Veins stood out along his temples as rage surged through him like a storm barely held in check. He had witnessed countless moments of life and death, had stood at the bedside of kings and paupers alike, yet the words of this child cut deeper than any blade.

Even a man revered as a living medical legend could not stop his eyes from glistening.

Those beasts from the Nolan family, he thought bitterly. When my master returns, they will pay in blood and ashes.

“Gabby, sweetheart…” Sophie began, but her voice faltered. She wanted to say that her daughter would definitely see her father again. She wanted to promise it without hesitation.

But deep down, doubt gnawed at her heart.

Her husband was facing the Nolan family of Kingsley and the Hawthorne family of Kingsley—two of the city’s most powerful clans, families that controlled wealth, influence, and both sides of the law. Against such forces, what chance did one man have?

In Sophie’s mind, the odds were terrifyingly clear. Survival seemed unlikely. Victory felt impossible.

“Mommy,” Gabby whispered, confusion creeping into her voice, “why aren’t you answering? Was I just dreaming? Do I… do I even have a Daddy?”

Her words collapsed into sobs, her small shoulders shaking as despair filled her wide, watery eyes.

That was when Sophie’s heart shattered completely.

She pulled her daughter into her arms, holding her as tightly as she dared. “No, no, no. You have a Daddy. You do,” she repeated urgently. “Your Daddy’s name is Dylan Brooks. He’s out there right now, fighting bad people. He’s very brave.”

It took a long while before Gabby’s crying subsided. Sniffling softly, she looked up and asked, “Then… when is Daddy coming back?”

“He’ll be back very soon,” Sophie said, gently stroking her daughter’s cheek. Each word felt like a gamble against fate. “Mommy promises. He will come back.”

“Really?” Gabby asked, her voice fragile with hope.

“Really,” Sophie replied, though uncertainty churned violently in her chest.

At that moment, Charles Bennett finally spoke again. “You can both rest easy. My master will return safely.”

Sophie turned toward him, despair etched into her expression. “I know you’re powerful,” she said quietly, “but there are only a few dozen of you. How can that compare to families like the Nolans and Hawthornes?”

Charles opened his mouth, then closed it again. The rules of his order echoed in his mind—rules given by Dylan Brooks himself on the first day of discipleship. No names. No revelations. No mention of Empyrean Summit.

Even the highest officials of the Solaria Republic addressed his master with only vague reverence.

“I can’t explain,” Charles said at last. “But believing that he will return is enough.”

To Sophie, those words sounded painfully hollow.

A thunderous roar suddenly shook the air.

Outside the hotel, squadrons of fighter jets tore through the clouds, streaking toward the horizon in perfect formation. Below them, armored vehicles and tanks rolled through the streets, soldiers advancing in disciplined ranks, their presence shaking the very ground.

“This is already the third wave of troops,” Sophie murmured, staring out the window. “What could possibly be happening in Kingsley?”

Then she hesitated, a thought surfacing against all reason. “Are they… here because of Dylan?”

Charles glanced outside, his expression unreadable. “It doesn’t seem so.”

She let out a bitter laugh. Of course. She had been foolish to hope.

Yet unknown to her, these forces had indeed come for Dylan Brooks—sent by the War Department of the Solaria Republic, led by Northern Commander Raymond Kane, carrying the Marshal’s Insignia itself.

With such backing, no one in Kingsley would dare oppose him again.

Meanwhile, outside Hillside Manor, Dylan Brooks stood coldly before Blake Nolan and Sebastian Hawthorne. The two men, once untouchable, now trembled uncontrollably, their legs shaking as they stared at the endless sea of soldiers surrounding them.

Blake swallowed hard and stammered, “Y-you… who are you… really?”