Chapter 8
chapter eight
Morgan
The next morning I'm woken not by crying or nightmares, but by a small, warm finger poking tentatively at my cheek.
"Ms. Morgan? Are you awake?"
I blink, disoriented for a moment as early morning light floods the room. Charlie's face hovers inches from mine, her blue eyes wide and curious.
"I'm awake," I whisper, careful not to disturb Trenton's arm still draped protectively over us. "Good morning, Charlie."
"Is it breakfast time?" she asks, her voice small but steady. "I'm hungry."
My heart swells at that simple question. After everything she's been through, she's still brave enough to ask for what she needs.
"Of course it is," I say, easing out from under Trenton's arm. "Let's see what we can find."
Charlie slips from the bed with surprising grace, standing barefoot in my oversized T-shirt that hangs to her knees. She looks so small, so fragile in the morning light, and I feel that fierce protectiveness rise again.
We pad quietly to the kitchen, Charlie's small hand finding mine as we navigate the hallway. The house feels different now, fuller somehow with her presence in it.
"What do you usually have for breakfast?" I ask, opening the refrigerator.
Charlie's brow furrows in thought. "Sometimes cereal. Or toast. Daddy doesn't like cooking."
I suppress a flinch at the mention of Evan and focus on the options. "How about pancakes? I make really good ones."
Her face brightens. "With chocolate chips?"
"With chocolate chips," I confirm, smiling. "And maybe some strawberries too?"
We work together in companionable silence, Charlie standing on a chair to watch as I mix the batter. The domesticity of the moment feels surreal after yesterday's horrors, but I treasure it anyway.
"Can I stir?" Charlie asks, reaching for the wooden spoon.
"Of course." I guide her small hands, helping her fold the chocolate chips into the batter. "You're doing great."
Footsteps behind me make me tense until I recognize Matthew's measured tread. He appears in the doorway, shirtless and rumpled from sleep, his eyes immediately finding Charlie with a warmth that surprises me.
"Morning," he says, his voice still rough. "Smells good."
"Mr. Matthew!" Charlie abandons her stirring to beam at him. "We're making pancakes!"
"I can see that." He moves to the coffee maker, but his eyes keep returning to her. "Chocolate chip?"
"With strawberries," she confirms proudly.
I watch them, the tightness in my chest easing slightly. Matthew has always been good with kids, even back in high school; the neighborhood children would flock to him at cookouts.
Trenton appears next, drawn by the smell of coffee. He's more reserved than Matthew, but he still manages to make Charlie laugh when he dramatically tastes the batter from the spoon and proclaims it "The best ever."
By the time we sit down to eat, the kitchen is warm and filled with the smell of pancakes and coffee. Charlie sits between Trenton and me, her small legs swinging as she methodically arranges her strawberries in a pattern on her plate.
"Can we go shopping today?" she asks, looking up at me with hopeful eyes. "For clothes? And maybe a toy?"
I catch Trenton's eye over Charlie's head. We haven't discussed our plans yet, haven't had time to make decisions about safety, or how to handle Charlie's presence in our home.
"We need to make some calls first," I say gently. "But yes, we'll definitely go shopping."
On the counter lies the social worker's business card, a reminder of the bureaucracy we need to navigate. For now, though, I want to give Charlie this moment of normalcy—a breakfast that feels so right despite everything.
"Can I have more?" Charlie asks, holding up her empty plate, chocolate smeared around her mouth.
"Absolutely," Matthew says, already rising to fetch the serving plate. "Growing girls need to eat."
As he serves another pancake, I catch his eye. There's a tenderness that wasn't there yesterday. It makes me wonder if maybe we've all found what we didn't know we were missing.
The morning stretches on with ordinary moments that feel extraordinary given the circumstances. I help Charlie shower again, carefully washing her hair and being gentle around the bruises on her small body. Then we choose an outfit from my closet, a T-shirt dress cinched at the waist with a belt.
"Like a princess," Charlie declares, admiring herself in the mirror.
"Exactly like a princess," I agree, brushing through her damp hair.
When we emerge from the bedroom, Trenton and Matthew are in the living room, speaking in low voices that stop as we enter. I don't miss the flash of concern on their faces, quickly masked when Charlie bounds toward them.
"Look at me!" she announces, spinning to show off her makeshift dress.
"You look beautiful," Matthew says, his voice warm with genuine admiration.
Trenton nods, his expression softer than I've seen in a long time. "Ready to go shopping?"
The question hangs in the air. I know we need to discuss safety first, but the eager hope in Charlie's eyes makes it impossible to say no.
"Let me call the social worker," I say. "We need to make sure we're following all the rules."
While Charlie shows Trenton and Matthew her strawberry art from breakfast, I step outside to make the call. The social worker confirms we have temporary custody for now, but regular check-ins and therapy appointments are required.
"We'll need to establish a schedule for visits," she says. "And, of course, she should see a therapist as soon as possible."
I agree, making mental notes. When I hang up, I find Trenton watching me from the doorway.
"Everything okay?" he asks.
"For now," I say, stepping closer. "We have temporary custody, but there will be social-worker visits and therapy appointments."
He nods, his eyes drifting back to Charlie inside. "And Harris?"
My stomach tightens. "Still out there. The police are searching."
"We'll be careful," he promises, taking my hand. "But we can't keep her locked up. She needs normalcy."
He's right. After everything Charlie's been through, she deserves moments of joy. "Let's go shopping. We'll stay together and keep our eyes open."
"Always," he agrees, pulling me in for a brief kiss.
Back inside, Charlie is showing Matthew how to draw her special strawberry design, her small hand guiding his larger one across the paper. My heart swells all over again.
"Ready for shopping?" I ask.
Charlie looks up, her face bright with excitement. "Yes!"
"Then let's go," I say, reaching for my purse. "We have a lot to get."
Matthew
I keep my hand on the small of Morgan's back as we navigate the mall parking lot, scanning the area for any sign of Harris. The morning sun glints off windshields, making it harder to spot threats. My body is wired, every muscle coiled tight with the need to protect what's ours.
"Caiden and Zach are already inside," Trenton murmurs, leaning close enough that only I can hear. "They'll text if they spot anything suspicious."
I nod, my eyes catching the familiar shape of Caiden's truck parked two rows over. The club's presence settles something in my chest, though the tension doesn't fully release. Harris is smart, methodical. We can't afford to underestimate him.
Charlie skips ahead, her small hand still clasped in Morgan's. The excitement in her movements makes my chest tighten. She deserves this simple joy of shopping, of being a normal kid for a day.
"Stay close," I remind them as we approach the entrance, my voice soft for Charlie's sake.
The mall is relatively quiet for a weekday morning. A few shoppers stroll past storefronts, mothers pushing strollers, elderly couples walking arm in arm. I catalog each face, searching for threats, for anyone who doesn't belong.
Morgan leads us directly to a children's clothing store, its window display filled with bright colors and smiling mannequins. Charlie's eyes go wide as we enter, her fingers tightening around Morgan's.
"Where should we start?" Morgan asks, crouching down to Charlie's level. "What do you like?"
Charlie looks overwhelmed by the choices, her gaze darting from rack to rack. "I don't know," she whispers, suddenly shy. "I've never… Daddy always bought my clothes online."
The mention of Harris makes my jaw tighten. I catch Trenton's eye over Morgan's head, seeing the same protective fury mirrored in his expression.
"Let's start with clothes then," Morgan suggests, her voice warm and encouraging. "Maybe a dress?"
She steers Charlie toward a rack of summer dresses, pulling out a yellow sundress with tiny, embroidered flowers. Charlie's face lights up as she touches the fabric.
"It's so soft," she says, wonder in her voice.
"Try it on," Morgan encourages, handing her the dress. "There's a fitting room right over there."
I move closer, positioning myself where I can see both the store entrance and the fitting rooms. Trenton takes up position near the front, his posture casual but alert.
We've done this before in markets in Kandahar, in crowded streets in Bahrain.
The strategy is the same: create a perimeter, control the exits.
Morgan helps Charlie into the dressing room, her voice a gentle murmur as she gives the little girl privacy to change. I stand with my back to the wall, scanning the store. A text buzzes in my pocket.
Caiden: All clear on this level. Zach's watching the food court exit.
I slip the phone away, keeping my expression neutral. Charlie emerges from the dressing room, twirling in the yellow dress, her face glowing with excitement.
"Look!" she announces, spinning so the skirt flares out. "It's like I'm flying!"
Morgan smiles, but I see the sheen of tears in her eyes. "It's perfect," she says, her voice thick. "Let's get it."
The morning passes in a blur of shopping.
We move from store to store, Charlie's confidence growing with each purchase.
Morgan guides her through choices, letting her pick out what she likes while making sure she has practical items too.
I stay close, maintaining our perimeter, while Trenton watches from a distance, his eyes constantly moving.
By the time we reach the toy store, Charlie is chattering happily about school and what she wants to be when she grows up. The transformation is remarkable from the terrified child we found in that cabin to this bright, laughing little girl.
"I want a unicorn," Charlie announces, pulling Morgan toward a display of stuffed animals. "A big one!"
I hang back, giving them space while keeping them in sight. My phone buzzes again.
Zach: Possible sighting near the south entrance. Matching description. Moving to confirm.
My body goes on high alert. I signal to Trenton, who's already moving toward us, his expression carefully controlled for Charlie's benefit.
"We should head out," I say, keeping my voice light as I approach Morgan and Charlie. "Maybe grab some lunch?"
Morgan reads the tension in my face immediately. "That sounds great," she agrees, squeezing Charlie's hand. "Let's pay for the unicorn and go, okay?"
Charlie nods, hugging her chosen stuffed animal. Morgan moves quickly to the register, glancing at me with unspoken questions in her eyes.
I lean close as the cashier rings up their purchase. "Possible sighting. We need to move."
She nods once, her jaw tightening. I keep my body between them and the store entrance while Trenton positions himself on Charlie's other side. The protective formation comes naturally now, our bodies creating a barrier around the two most important people in our lives.
"All set?" I ask as Morgan takes the bag from the cashier.
"Ready," she confirms, taking Charlie's hand.
We move toward the nearest exit, not the south entrance where the sighting occurred. I text Caiden our plan, keeping my movements casual despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
Charlie chatters happily about her new unicorn, completely unaware of the danger. I scan every face we pass, searching for Harris's features, for any sign of recognition. My hand finds the gun concealed at my waist, a comforting weight.
Trenton opens the exit door, checking the parking lot before gesturing us forward. I keep Morgan and Charlie close, my body shielding theirs as we move toward our truck.
"Everything okay?" Morgan whispers as we walk.
"Just being careful," I assure her, though my eyes never stop moving.
We reach the truck without incident. I help Charlie into the back seat while Trenton helps Morgan. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly once they're inside, but we're still exposed.
"Caiden's watching," Trenton says quietly as he slides behind the wheel. "Says the guy he saw headed toward the food court."
I nod, climbing into the passenger seat. "Let's get them home."
As we pull out of the parking lot, I watch the rearview mirror, searching for any vehicle that might be following us. The road stretches empty behind us, but I don't relax. Harris is out there, watching, waiting.
"He's not going to take her," I say quietly, more to myself than anyone. "He's not going to touch either of them."
Trenton's jaw tightens, his hands gripping the steering wheel. "Not while we're still breathing."
In the back seat, Charlie shows her new unicorn to Morgan, completely unaware of the danger. I catch Morgan's eye in the mirror, see the fear she's hiding for Charlie's sake.
"We'll keep her safe," I promise, the words an oath. "No matter what it takes."
Morgan nods, her arm around Charlie's small shoulders. "I know you will."
The road stretches ahead of us, leading to home, to the safety we've created. But even as we drive away from the mall, I know our peace is temporary. Harris won't stop. Men like him never do.
But neither will we.