No One Hurts My Daughter and Lives

The autumn wind howled across the desolate northern borders of Rusteria, scattering dead leaves over the heavy black trench coat of Aaron Holmes. He stood as rigid and unyielding as a steel spear, completely ignoring the freezing cold. Before him stretched a vast, formidable sea of a million elite soldiers, standing in absolute, reverent silence beneath the fluttering Rusteria Banner. Today was the decennial investiture ceremony. For his unparalleled martial prowess and his countless bloody victories defending the nation, the young man was being crowned the youngest general in history, officially bestowed with the supreme and undisputed title of Lord Holmes.

Suddenly, his private mobile phone vibrated. He lowered his gaze, his pupils constricting slightly as the glowing screen flashed a location he had not seen in years: Haven City. His battle-hardened hands trembled ever so slightly as he pressed the answer button.

"Is this Daddy? Can you save me, please? They locked me in the dark basement, and I am so scared. I have not eaten anything for two days."

Hearing the frail, weeping voice of a young child, Aaron Holmes frowned in deep confusion. "Little one, who are you?" he asked gently. He felt a bitter pang of disappointment, assuming it was a wrong number rather than the specific woman he had been thinking of.

"Please do not hang up! My name is Liv Holmes. I am five years old. I wear a metal dog tag around my neck with this phone number carved on the back. Someone at the orphanage told me it belongs to my real family..."

A deafening roar echoed in his mind. The metal dog tag. It was the exact love token he had given that woman all those years ago. The front held a photograph of the two of them smiling, and the back bore his personal phone number.

The child's fragile, terrified voice violently squeezed his heart. Panic, raw and completely unfamiliar, seized the supreme commander as he quickly tried to comfort her. "Liv, be a good girl and do not be afraid. Tell me exactly where you are right now, and I will rush over to you immediately."

"I am in Haven City, at the Harmony Courtyard residential complex. Building three, unit one, basement room one zero three. Please hurry, Daddy. I feel so cold and sleepy. Liv just wants to close her eyes for a little bit."

Aaron Holmes felt his blood run freezing cold. His mind exploded with agonizing dread. Having spent years walking the razor edge between life and death on the battlefield, he recognized those dangerous symptoms instantly. The child was losing consciousness from extreme starvation and shock. If she fell asleep in that basement, she would never wake up.

"Liv, you must hold on! Whatever you do, do not go to sleep! Talk to me..."

A series of disconnected beeps abruptly pierced his ear. The call had dropped.

A terrifying, murderous aura erupted from Aaron Holmes, almost tangible in its crushing, violent pressure. "Prepare a helicopter right now! I need to reach Haven City at maximum speed!"

Without another word, under the stunned gaze of a million soldiers, the newly crowned general turned his back on the ceremonial podium. He strode decisively toward an elderly man bearing three golden stars on his broad shoulders.

"I am going home," Aaron Holmes stated, his tone as cold and hard as glacial ice.

The old general remained silent for a long moment before issuing a grave warning. "Think this through carefully. If you walk away today, you will abandon this supreme glory. You will have to wait another ten agonizing years for a second chance at this investiture ceremony."

Aaron Holmes did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. He gave a firm nod and marched away, his black trench coat billowing heavily behind him.

A massive shockwave rippled through the entire army. This was the decennial investiture ceremony, an unreachable zenith of honor reserved only for unparalleled national heroes. Yet, the legendary Lord Holmes was walking away from it without a single backward glance.

"Faster! Push it to the absolute limit! We must reach the military airfield in under five minutes!" Sitting in the back of a speeding jeep, Aaron Holmes barked relentless orders, his eyes entirely bloodshot. He kept staring at his dark phone screen, his sharp intuition screaming at him that the little girl in the dark was his own flesh and blood.

A painful memory suddenly surfaced in his mind. He remembered the cold, detached look in Serena Vale's eyes from years ago. "If I ever happen to be pregnant with your child after we separate, I will choose to give birth," she had told him. "If it is a boy, I will name him Leo Holmes. If it is a girl, she will be Liv. And I swear to you, I will make sure you never get to see them for the rest of your life."

He had always dismissed those cruel words as an angry joke born from their bitter separation. He never imagined she would actually go through with it. "Be a brave girl, my sweet child. You absolutely cannot die," he whispered into the cold wind.

Suddenly, a guttural, agonizing roar ripped from his throat, echoing across the base like the cry of a wounded beast. Every soldier nearby lowered their heads in fearful reverence, knowing a devastating storm was approaching.

Two agonizing hours later, a massive military helicopter descended from the sky, its roaring blades whipping up a violent storm of dust over the central plaza of the Harmony Courtyard complex in Haven City. Local security guards cowered behind bushes in the distance, far too terrified to approach the intimidating war machine. Some frantically pulled out their phones to dial the police, completely overwhelmed by the terrifying spectacle unfolding in their quiet neighborhood.

Aaron Holmes leaped from the aircraft and swept his sharp gaze across the sprawling residential complex, quickly locking onto the structure labeled as building three.

He marched toward it with heavy, deliberate steps. A dark, suffocating cloud of murderous rage twisted his handsome features into a terrifying mask. The air around him grew heavy and oppressive, making it difficult for anyone nearby to even draw a breath. The final, desperate dial tone still echoed relentlessly in his ears.

Reaching the entrance of the building, he found a thick, reinforced glass door blocking his path. Without a word being spoken, a young soldier in full combat gear rushed forward from behind him and delivered a devastating kick to the barrier, shattering the glass into a sparkling cascade of jagged fragments.

Aaron Holmes stepped directly into the dark, descending stairwell, navigating until he stood before basement room one zero three. He simply grabbed the heavy iron padlock with his bare hand and yanked backward. The thick metal snapped instantly, and he pushed the rusted door open.

A vile, sickening stench of rotting waste washed over him. The basement was pitch black, freezing, and incredibly damp. He scanned the cramped, filthy space until his gaze fell upon a tiny, trembling shadow huddled behind a pile of moldy cardboard boxes.

The little girl was shockingly emaciated, wearing torn rags that offered absolutely zero protection from the biting cold. But what made his blood freeze completely was the heavy, rusted metal dog chain securely fastened around her fragile neck. Beside her small, dirt-caked hands sat a plastic bowl filled with stale dog food.

His nose stung as hot tears threatened to spill. Holding his breath against the vile stench, he dropped to his knees, his scarred hands trembling violently as he reached out to touch her face. Any lingering doubts vanished instantly. The shape of her brows and nose were miniature replicas of his own, while her delicate face painfully mirrored Serena Vale.

Sensing the sudden touch in the dark, the little girl reacted with violent, instinctual terror. She scrambled backward, curling into a tight defensive ball against the damp wall. "Please do not hit Liv!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and broken. "I am begging you, please do not hit me anymore! If Liv did something wrong, I promise I will fix it!"

Seeing her unfocused, dilated pupils and realizing the sheer volume of torture she must have endured to develop such a horrific reflex, his heart shattered into a million jagged pieces.

"Liv, please do not be afraid," he pleaded, his voice breaking into a thick, choked sob. "It is Daddy. Daddy has finally come home. You called me on the phone, remember? I am here now, and no one will ever dare to bully you again."

The little girl slowly lifted her tear-stained face, her dull eyes blinking in the dim light. "Daddy? Are you really my Daddy?"

"Yes, sweet girl. I am the man in the photograph on your necklace."

A desperate, starving light ignited in her eyes. With a heart-wrenching wail, she threw her frail body forward into his broad chest, gripping his trench coat with astonishing strength. "Daddy, I hurt so much. Everything hurts. Please, take me away from this dark place."

Tears finally broke free, cascading down his cheeks in hot streams. He wrapped his arms around her tiny frame. With trembling fingers, he gently rolled up the torn sleeve of her dirty shirt. His breath caught sharply in his throat.

Her tiny arm was a mangled canvas of dark purple bruises and deep, unhealed gashes crusted with dried blood. A horrifying web of red and black welts crisscrossed her pale skin, indicating she had been repeatedly lashed. The legendary supreme commander wept openly, the very atmosphere in the basement warping under his immense, suffocating grief.

"Lord Holmes!" the soldier at the doorway cried out in alarm, taking a cautious step forward.

Aaron Holmes raised a single hand, stopping his subordinate in his tracks. "I am fine," he gritted out, desperately swallowing his apocalyptic rage so he would not terrify his daughter any further.

"My sweet, brave girl," he whispered, gently stroking her trembling back. "Where is your mother? How could she let this happen to you?"

Liv looked up at him with innocent, confused eyes and shook her head. "I do not have a mommy. I grew up in the big orphanage. Half a year ago, some people came and adopted me. But as soon as they brought me here, they locked me in the dark and never let me out."

She pointed a trembling finger at her heavy metal tag. "The phone number on the back was missing one number at the end. So, I started guessing from zero. I tried calling six times when I was still at the orphanage, but the people who answered always said they were not my Daddy. Today, the bad auntie accidentally dropped her phone on the floor. I grabbed it and tried the seventh time. I finally found you, Daddy."

Her weak, crying voice acted like a barrage of poisoned needles piercing directly into his soul. Aaron Holmes froze entirely. His heavy, paralyzing grief mutated rapidly into a tidal wave of monstrous fury. He slowly rose to his feet, his massive frame towering in the cramped space. A hollow, terrifying laugh escaped his lips.

"Serena Vale, oh, Serena Vale," he muttered, his voice dripping with venomous hatred. "You looked down on me all those years ago. You told me to set you free. And this is how you treat our own flesh and blood? If you were going to be this utterly heartless, why did you even bring her into this world just to suffer? She is your child too!"

He could vividly picture the agonizing despair his daughter must have felt. Locked in total darkness, starving and beaten, she had clung to that incomplete string of numbers as her only lifeline. Seven desperate attempts. He could not even begin to fathom the sheer willpower it took for a five-year-old child to survive this living hell.

Suddenly, the heavy sound of footsteps echoed from the top of the stairwell. The basement door swung open completely. A plump, richly dressed woman stomped down the stairs, carrying a fresh bowl of vile slop in one hand and a thick leather whip in the other.

"Liv, you useless little rat! Get your miserable self over here and lick this dog bowl clean!" the woman shrieked, her shrill voice echoing in the confined space. "I swear, I must have been cursed to have to come down here and feed you every single day!"

Without even bothering to look into the dark corner, the wealthy woman raised her arm high and violently cracked the heavy leather whip through the cold air.