Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 270: A Mother’s Nightmare

Angela’s words sliced through the heavy, tension-filled atmosphere like a blade. "What is this woman's name?" she demanded sharply. Her grip on my arm tightened, a clear gesture of staking her claim.

Nathalie, Walter’s wife, merely lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. A smirk played on her full lips as she glanced toward Max, who stood by her side. She didn't appear the least bit intimidated.

Instead, she seemed entertained. "Nathalie," she replied, her voice as smooth as aged whiskey. She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes traveling over my form in a slow, calculated sweep.

Angela’s jaw tightened, and I felt her fingers digging into my skin. However, before she could find her voice to respond, a desperate, strangled cry echoed from the corridor. "Mother—!"

As the hospital bed was rolled into the room, Nathalie’s breath hitched, and she froze mid-sentence. The sight of her son, Tyler—her baby—reduced to a broken, shivering wreck on that gurney struck her with the force of a physical blow. His face was a mask of sheer panic, covered in tears and snot, with a hospital gown clinging to his sweat-drenched body.

The thick, suffocating stench of urine and terror saturated the air. "Tyler?!" she gasped. Her voice cracked as she lurched forward, her high heels clicking frantically across the marble floor. She pressed her hands against her mouth, her manicured nails biting into her lips as if trying to physically restrain a scream.

Tyler’s frame was racked with violent sobs as his fingers clawed at the bedsheets. "Mother!" he wailed, his voice ascending into a high-pitched, frantic shriek. "Mother, please—!" His bloodshot eyes were wide and wild with horror as they locked onto her face.

"They’re going to kill me! They murdered Father! They killed him, Mother! Please!" His chest heaved in ragged, panicked gasps, making him look as though he were drowning on dry land.

"Don’t let them take me! Don’t let them—!" His words drifted into a choked sob, and he curled his body inward like a mangled animal.

Nathalie’s poise was completely destroyed. "Tyler!" she cried out, her voice raw with terror as she scrambled to his side. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the bed railing, finally absorbing the full horror of his condition.

"Oh, Tyler, baby—" Her voice failed her, and her eyes welled with tears. She reached out with trembling fingers to brush his damp hair. "What did they do to you?!" she screamed, her tone a volatile mix of desperation and fury. "What did you animals do to my son?!"

Tyler’s body jerked as if an electric current were passing through him. "They’re devils, Mother!" he sobbed through a cracking voice.

"They aren’t human! That man—he laughed—he laughed while he—" His speech dissolved into a haunting wail, his hands grabbing her wrists like a man lost at sea. "He’s going to kill me! Please, Mother! Don’t let him—!"

Agony twisted Nathalie’s features, her tears falling freely as she leaned down to press her forehead against his. "Shhh, mon amour," she whispered, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

"I’m here. I’m here. No one is going to hurt you. I promise—" But her words died in her throat as she looked up and met my eyes. The pure terror in her expression was nearly tangible—the crushing realization that she was helpless, that she could not shield him, and that the monsters in her home were unlike anything she had ever encountered.

Tyler’s cries intensified, his shaking so violent that the bed began to rattle. "Mother, please!" he begged, his voice breaking apart.

"He’s coming—! He’s right there—!" His eyes darted toward me, and his entire body seized in a fit of terror. "Don’t let him touch me! Please! I don’t want to die! I don't want to die—!"

Nathalie’s breathing became sharp and panicked. She turned toward me, her face a portrait of utter desperation.

"You bastard," she spat, her voice raspy with rage. "You sick, twisted bastard—!" Her hands balled into fists, her body vibrating with the impulse to attack, yet she remained frozen—caught between her son’s fear and her own impotence.

I remained motionless. I said nothing.

I simply watched.

In that heavy silence, Tyler’s screams filled the room—a sound so raw and broken that it possessed a certain dark beauty. "Mother! Mother—!" His voice finally shattered, and he collapsed into a fit of violent weeping as Nathalie pulled him close, her tears mingling with his own.

Nathalie held Tyler tightly against her chest, her fingers weaving through his sweat-soaked hair as he trembled against her. "I’m here, baby," she whispered once more, her voice buckling under her own dread.

"I’m here—" But her reassurances were drowned out by Tyler’s hysterical weeping. He clawed at her arms, his breath coming in jagged gasps. His entire world had been razed, and she was powerless to do anything but hold the pieces as he fell apart.

And then there was me.

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.

I just smiled—a slow, dark, and purposeful grin.

Angela displayed no sympathy whatsoever. She stepped forward, her heels echoing sharply against the marble, her presence cutting through the room’s tension like a cold blade.

Stopping directly in front of Nathalie and Tyler, she stared down at them with a cold, relentless gaze. "Now you understand what it means to be afraid," she whispered venomously. "Now you know."

Nathalie’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with anger, but Angela didn't budge. "What about when you came to harass me every single day?" Angela’s voice was low, vibrating with a rage she was barely holding back.

"When you and your father murdered my husband? When you destroyed my family?" Her hands clenched at her sides until her knuckles were ghost-white. "Did you ever give a thought to me? To my daughter? To the life you stole from us?"

Nathalie’s breath hitched, and she pulled Tyler closer as if she could protect him from the coming storm of Angela’s fury. But there was no protection left. Not for them.

Angela’s eyes swept across the room, settling on Max and the soldiers who stood like statues. "You," she commanded, her voice sharp. "Go outside. Secure the house. No one enters without my direct order."

Max hesitated for a heartbeat, his eyes searching mine for confirmation. I gave him a single, slow nod—a gesture of permission and a silent warning of the consequences of failure.

That was all the assurance he required.

"Yes, ma’am!" Max barked, springing into motion. He signaled to the others, and the room cleared in seconds, the heavy doors thudding shut behind them. The mansion belonged to us now. The balance of power had shifted completely.

And Nathalie?

She was cornered.

Tyler’s whimpering filled the ensuing quiet, his body still shaking against his mother as he struggled for air. "Mother—" he moaned, his voice cracking. "Please—don’t let them—"

Angela didn't look at the boy. She didn't look at Nathalie.

She looked at me.