Chapter 9
chapter nine
Morgan
I watch the rearview mirror as Matthew's eyes scan the road behind us, his posture rigid with alertness.
In the back seat beside me, Charlie's excited chatter has gradually softened to drowsy mumbles, her new unicorn clutched tightly against her chest. The shopping bags rustle with each turn, filled with clothes, toys, and the normalcy we're fighting to give her.
"Looks like we're clear," Matthew says, his voice low enough that only Trenton and I can hear.
Trenton nods, his hands loosening their white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel just slightly. "Still need to be careful when we get home."
I turn in my seat to check on Charlie and find her eyes heavy-lidded, her head tilted against the window. The morning's excitement has finally caught up with her small body.
"She's asleep," I whisper.
The drive home feels both longer and shorter with Charlie sleeping in the back with me. I find myself checking on her every few minutes, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers still clutch the unicorn's hoofed foot even in slumber.
When we pull into our driveway, I hesitate before waking her. She looks so peaceful, the worry lines that have been a constant presence on her small face finally smoothed away.
"Let her sleep," Matthew suggests, reading my thoughts. "I'll carry her in."
We've barely unbuckled our seat belts when a small whimper breaks the silence. I turn to find Charlie stirring, her eyes fluttering open with confusion and fear.
"No, no, please," she mumbles, still half in her dream. Her small body tenses, arms reaching out blindly.
"Charlie, it's okay. You're safe," I say, but she doesn't seem to hear me.
Then her eyes focus, finding Trenton as he opens her door. "Mr. Trent," she whispers, her voice thick with sleep and fear. Her arms stretch toward him, fingers reaching. "Please. Carry me."
My chest tightens at the vulnerability in her voice. Trenton doesn't hesitate. He leans in, his large frame suddenly gentle as he carefully gathers her small body against his chest.
"I've got you, kiddo," he murmurs, one hand supporting her back while the other tucks the unicorn safely against her.
Charlie's arms wrap around his neck, her face burying against his shoulder. The trust in that gesture makes my eyes burn with unshed tears.
"Let's get her inside," I say, grabbing the shopping bags while Matthew collects our purchases from the trunk.
Trenton carries Charlie up the walkway, his steps measured and careful, as if she's made of glass. I unlock the door, holding it open as he passes through. Charlie hasn't moved, still clinging to him with the desperate trust of a child who has known too little safety.
"Should we put her to bed?" I whisper.
Before Trenton can answer, Charlie lifts her head slightly. "No," she murmurs, her voice muffled against his shirt. "Can I stay with you? Just for a while?"
Trenton's eyes meet mine over her head. The request is so simple, yet so weighted with meaning. This child, who has known only cruelty and fear, is asking for the comfort of our presence.
"Of course," I say, moving ahead to clear a space on the living room couch.
Trenton settles onto the sofa, Charlie still held securely in his lap. I sit beside them, my hand finding its way to Charlie's back, tracing small circles between her shoulder blades. Matthew joins us, positioning himself on my other side, completing our protective triangle.
"I had a bad dream," Charlie confesses quietly. "Daddy was there, and he was mad at me. Said I was bad for wanting to stay with you."
My heart breaks for her. "You're not bad, Charlie. You've never been bad."
"Your dad is sick," Matthew adds gently. "He doesn't understand what's best for you."
Charlie nods slowly against Trenton's chest. "You won't let him take me back, will you?"
It's not a question a child should have to ask. I look at Trenton, seeing the muscle jump in his jaw, the protective fire in his eyes.
"Never," he says, the word a vow. "You're staying with us."
Relief visibly floods Charlie's small body. Her grip on Trenton's shirt loosens slightly, her breathing evening out.
"I'm going to make some lunch," Matthew says, standing. "Maybe you could help me, Morgan?"
I understand his unspoken request, a chance to talk about what we need to do next. With a final squeeze to Charlie's shoulder, I follow him to the kitchen.
"She trusts him," I say quietly, glancing back at Trenton still holding Charlie. "Completely."
"She trusts all of us," Matthew corrects, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator. "But she especially trusts Trent. That's good, it means she's healing."
I nod, leaning against the counter. "But Evan is still out there."
Matthew's hands pause in their task. "Yes. And we need to be smart about how we handle this."
"He wants Charlie back," I say, voicing the fear that's been haunting me since we found her. "And he wants me."
Matthew moves closer, his hands warm on my shoulders. "He won't get either. The club is watching, the police are searching. We'll find him."
I want to believe him, but the memory of those women's faces on Techy's screen lingers in my mind. "He's killed before. Multiple times."
"And we've dealt with worse," Matthew reminds me, his voice steady. "Trust us to handle this, Morgan."
I nod, trying to let his confidence ease my fear. But as I glance back at the living room, at Trenton gently rocking a now sleeping Charlie, I know what we are facing could destroy everything we've built.
"We need to prepare," I say, my voice determined. "Fortify the house, set up surveillance, have a plan for every scenario."
"Already on it," Matthew assures me. "Greyson's sending a security system crew this afternoon. Caiden and the others are taking shifts watching the property."
I move back to the living room, watching as Trenton carefully adjusts Charlie's position so she's more comfortable. There's something so tender about his large hands cradling her small form, so incongruous with the lethal man I know he can be.
"What's happening out there?" he asks quietly, nodding toward the kitchen.
"Matthew's making lunch," I say, sitting beside him again. "The club is sending security this afternoon."
Trenton nods, his eyes never leaving Charlie's peaceful face. "Good. We need to be ready."
"We will be," I promise, my hand finding his free one.
The house fills with the comforting smell of Matthew's cooking. Outside, the world continues to spin, oblivious to the threat hanging over our small family. But inside our walls, for this moment at least, there is peace.
Charlie stirs, her eyes fluttering open. "I'm hungry," she announces, sitting up in Trenton's lap.
"Perfect timing," Matthew calls from the kitchen. "Lunch is ready."
As we move to the dining room, Charlie still clinging to Trenton's hand, I feel the weight of our new reality settling around us. We're no longer just three people rebuilding their lives. We're a family, with a child to protect.
I wake from a light doze to find the living room bathed in the golden light of early evening. Charlie's voice drifts from upstairs, punctuated by Matthew's deeper tones. I follow the sound.
I pause outside Charlie's new room. The door's cracked, and I don't push it open.
Matthew sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by every stuffed animal we bought today.
Charlie moves around him like she's staging a military operation, placing each one with the kind of focused intensity that makes my chest ache a little.
Her small face is scrunched, lips pressed together like she is trying to solve a puzzle.
"And this one," she announces, holding up her small pink unicorn, "is Princess Sparklehoof. She's the queen of the whole kingdom."
Matthew takes the unicorn with both hands. Nods once. Completely serious. "Queen Sparklehoof. A very important position."
I press my shoulder against the doorframe and stay there.
"And this is Prince Braveheart." Charlie hands him a bear wearing a lopsided paper crown she must have made herself at some point. "He protects everyone."
Matthew sets the bear on his knee like it belongs there.
"You need to tell Princess Sparklehoof about the dragon," Charlie instructs, nudging a green dinosaur toward him with her foot.
Matthew picks it up and has it swoop through the air in a slow arc. "Ah, the dragon." He drops his voice like he's sharing a secret. "He's actually quite misunderstood, you know. Just wants friends."
Charlie giggles. The sound is sudden and bright and completely unguarded, and it hits me somewhere behind the sternum.
"Dragons can't have friends. They breathe fire!"
"Maybe that's why he's lonely." Matthew swoops the dinosaur again. "Everyone's afraid of his fire."
I push the door open and step inside. "Playing dragon rescue?"
"Ms. Morgan!" Charlie abandons the animal kingdom entirely and grabs my hand, towing me toward the middle of the floor. "Mr. Matthew is my new best friend. He plays dolls better than anyone!"
I catch Matthew's eye over her head. He's trying not to look too pleased with himself and failing.
"The princess here has quite an imagination," he says, holding up the pink unicorn with mock solemnity. "We've been negotiating a peace treaty with the dragon kingdom."
Charlie drops down between us, cross-legged, and picks up the green dinosaur. Her posture shifts, suddenly businesslike. "I want a story before bed. Mr. Matthew said you both have lots of adventures."
I sit on the floor and tuck my legs underneath me. The carpet is soft. Someone, probably Matthew, has already put down the small rug we bought for this room. "We do. But they're not all princess stories."
"Tell me about the time you got lost in the forest." Charlie's eyes go wide. "Mr. Matthew said it's a really good story."
Matthew shoots me a look that's about forty percent apology and sixty percent amusement.
"That was a long time ago," I say. "When we were kids."
"Please?" The lower lip comes out. Fully deployed.