Chapter 242

Hannah cried, “Noah!”

As Jake and I plummeted toward the churning water below, time seemed to slow. The roar of the waterfall faded; all I heard was my own heart pounding. My hand instinctively flew to my stomach, where my unborn child had taken root just a couple of months ago. For a moment, I was back on the bathroom floor.

This couldn’t be happening, I thought. My child and I had been given a second chance, only to have it snatched away by a man motivated solely by money. As we fell, I envisioned all the things I’d miss—holding my baby for the first time, watching them grow, seeing their first steps… finally being a mother, after all these years.

Tears stung my eyes as I reached desperately toward the cliff, knowing it was futile. Only jagged rocks awaited. I hoped for a quick end.

Then, a flash of silver. A magnificent silver wolf—Noah—leaped into the moonlight, his powerful form silhouetted against the night sky. For a moment, all I saw was his silver fur gleaming, his graceful legs extended, his piercing yellow eyes fixed on me. I thought, if I must die, I wouldn’t mind this being my last sight.

Mid-air, he shifted to human form and dove toward us, arms outstretched. Everything happened so fast. Noah reached for my outstretched hands, colliding with me. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me free from Jake’s grasp. Jake plunged into the misty spray, his wild eyes disappearing into the gray abyss.

For a moment, Noah held me close, and I clung to him, my fingers digging into his skin. Then, his other hand shot out, grasping the rock face beside the waterfall.

We slammed into the cliff. I heard Noah grunt in pain, but his grip never faltered.

“Noah—”

“Hold on! I’ve got you,” he gritted, his fingernails digging into the mossy rock. “I won’t let you go.”

I buried my face in his chest, shaking with relief and fear. “Noah,” I whispered, unable to speak further.

We hung there, seemingly forever, the waterfall spray soaking us as Noah clung to the rock. I felt his muscles strain, but his grip never loosened—neither on me nor on his handhold.

“Drake!” Noah shouted over the water’s roar. “We need a rope!”

Moments later, something brushed my arm. Drake had lowered a rope, though I didn’t know—or care—how he’d found one. Noah secured the rope around my waist.

“Hold on tight,” he instructed. “They’re going to pull you up.”

I shook my head, clinging to him. “Not without you.”

Noah’s eyes softened. “I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”

Reluctantly, I let go and felt myself being lifted. Reaching the top, hands grabbed me, pulling me to safety. Lights flashed, voices shouted, but I barely noticed. Once secure, I turned, anxiously watching Noah being pulled up.

Only once we were both on solid ground, soaked and sputtering, did I let out a whimper of relief. I crawled to Noah, my mud-covered hands checking his body for injuries.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice hoarse. “You hit the rocks hard.”

Noah sat up, wincing slightly. “I’m fine,” he murmured, reaching for me. His fingers trailed along my bare skin; I pressed my forehead against his. “You?”

“We’re okay,” I assured him. Only then did I realize “we” included the baby. Noah didn’t seem to notice.

Then, I saw EMTS rushing toward us, along with police officers and a wailing siren. Blinking against the harsh lights, I felt a hand on me and looked up to see Drake, covered in blood, beside me.