LARA:
I stare at the little figure sprawled across my bed, curled up and cozy, taking up all the space. If it were anyone else, I'd gladly kick them out—but not this time. Normally, I'm not a fan of kids. They're noisy, cranky, and, let's face it, spoiled.
Growing up, my mom's rules pretty much zapped all the fun out of life. Heath tried to make up for it, but once I hit my teen years, there was no holding me back. Maybe that's why I've never believed in the idea of a perfect kid—they don't exist.
Anyway, I should probably take her to a doctor. But, uh... what do I even say? "Hey, found this kid, don't know who she is, but she passed out"? Involving the police is an option, but what if those guys come back? I don't want a home invasion before I can even get her to safety.
I tried calling David, but of course, it went to voicemail. I left him a message, hoping he calls back soon. The situation isn't exactly low-risk here.
After rushing home, I've been waiting for her to wake up and explain... something. Was this a bad idea? I've seen plenty of scams, but looking at this little girl, I can't help but feel bad for her.
I found some old clothes for her, washed her feet, and now she's sleeping like an angel. But then... DING DONG.
My heart nearly jumps out of my chest at the sound of the doorbell. Who could be here at this hour? Have those men found me already? Oh boy, what now?
I need to be quick. Glancing around, I grab the first thing I see—a knife. Sure, I know how to fight, but I also know when to avoid one. But, ugh, why am I overthinking this?
The doorbell rings again. Gripping the knife, I head to the door, prepared for the worst. I swing it open, ready to lunge—
"Mark?" I freeze mid-swing.
Surprisingly, he didn't even blink, let alone look surprised or shocked by my actions. He just stood there with his god-like features, wearing a coat and keeping his hands casually in his pockets.
"Do you welcome everyone with this kind of enthusiasm?" he asked, his tone bratty.
I scoffed, letting him in. "Not really. Just the special ones," I replied, closing the door behind me. "Especially the liars."
"I love it when you give me nicknames, Lara. It really turns me on." He flashed a grin.
I rolled my eyes, brushing past him. "Why are you here after a week of ignoring all my calls and texts, huh?"
He shrugged off his coat, hanging it neatly on the rack before flopping onto the sofa. His broad frame barely fit, and for some reason, it looked... annoyingly tempting. I shook the thought away as he answered.
"When was the last time you checked your voicemails?"
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"I left you messages. Had to go home for work. But I guess you're too lazy to check." He smirked lazily, clearly enjoying himself.
Offended, I crossed my arms, but before I could say anything, he slowly walked up to me. Towering over me by a good foot, he looked down, all intimidating and serious. "But I can make it up to you," he said, leaning in as if to close the gap between us.
Just when I thought he was going to kiss me, he stopped, a confused frown creasing his forehead. "Wait... when did you get a kid?"
As I began explaining everything to Mark, I noticed his face harden with every word I said. The little girl sat silently across from us, still as a statue, her wide eyes darting between us.
"And that's how she ended up here. I don't know what to do. I tried calling the police—"
"No." Mark cut me off, his voice sharp and urgent. There was panic in his tone, a warning. "You can't call the cops."
I frowned, confused. "Why not? She could be lost, her parents might be searching for her... We should inform the police, they could help get her back home."
Mark shook his head. "And do you really think the cops would help? They might be just another part of the problem—another monster."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, unease crawling up my spine.
He stood up and walked over to the little girl, kneeling in front of her. She stayed still, silent and wary, but there was something in her eyes. She seemed so fragile. I shifted awkwardly. "Um... she doesn't really talk. I think she's—" I stopped myself before saying the word 'mute.' "Hey, little buddy, are you hungry? Want some food?"
Nothing. No response. Again.
Then, something surprising happened. For the first time, I saw softness in Mark's eyes. He gently took the girl's hand and pressed it against his cheek. There was a strange comfort in the way he did it, a tenderness I wasn't used to seeing from him.
They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, and then... she hugged him.
Wait. What? What the hell?
I was the one who saved her from those dangerous men, risked my life, and brought her into my home—and she hugs him? The one who's basically an emotional brick wall?
Unbelievable.
"I think she's scared. Hungry," Mark said, his voice softer than I expected.
I rolled my eyes at the irony. Mark lecturing me about feelings—really?
I went to the fridge, pulled out a glass of milk, and handed it to the girl. She looked up at me with her big, doe eyes before finally taking it, drinking it down in one gulp.
And then... the second miracle happened.
Mark smiled. Like, actually smiled. He gently patted her head before turning to face me.
"Boston has always been a place of mysteries and crimes," he said, his voice darkening. "Most people think criminals come out of nowhere, but the truth is... they're born in homes. This case, this little girl, is one of their victim."
I stared at him, confused. "What do you mean? Why are you talking in riddles today?"
Mark's expression grew grim as he began, "Do you remember when the Devil was after the Falcons?"
I nodded slowly, my heart racing. "Yeah, I remember."
"Well, you know the Falcons were involved in human trafficking, right?"
My stomach dropped. "What? I mean, I knew Mia, Ben, and the others were bullies, but human trafficking? Come on, Mark, they were just students."
He chuckled darkly, a sound that sent chills down my spine. "Age is just a number, Mia. And when it comes to a criminal's mind, you have no idea what they're capable of."
I gulped. "And you do?"
Mark shot me a sharp glare before continuing. "In the past twenty years, more children have gone missing than you can count, and most of them became victims of human trafficking. Kids like her," he nodded towards the girl, "are the perfect targets. They're easy to manipulate, to bend, and to break. They're sold all over the world. At first, they're drugged until their bodies crave it, until the drug becomes their entire existence. And once they're hooked, they'll do anything to get another hit."
He paused, his voice lowering. "And that's when the real monsters make them do things you can't even imagine."
My blood ran cold. I couldn't breathe for a moment, flabbergasted. "H-how do you know all this?"
But he didn't answer, his gaze dark and haunted.
"And believe it or not," he finally said, his voice heavy with disgust, "the cops have a bigger hand in all this than you think."
I frowned, completely taken aback. I thought I knew the extent of the corruption after everything that happened last season. Ana had told me many things. But looking at the little girl, sitting there so vulnerable, I realized this was much, much worse than I ever imagined.
"What do I do now?" I asked, feeling completely lost.
"We," Mark corrected softly, stepping closer. He took my hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding me. "We will take care of her until I can figure out where her family is. Okay?"
"You... you're willing to do this?" I stammered, still in shock.
His brows furrowed with sincerity. "Of course. Lara, I wasn't joking when I said I wanted to be with you. And now that you're mine, your problems are mine too. So don't worry. All I need from you is to look after her—and don't tell anyone. I'll handle the rest, okay?"
I couldn't stop staring at him, speechless.
With a gentle movement, he brushed a few strands of hair behind my ear, his touch sending a warmth through me. "And don't think you're in this alone. We'll take care of her together."
My heart swelled, emotions I hadn't expected flooding in. Love?
Was this... commitment?
Oh boy.