He’s tall and broad. Muscles built from manual labour and bar fights. With blonde hair buzzed short, cold blue eyes. He is objectively beautiful… but it's his eyes that tell you the truth of who he is. He smiles like a man imagining something breaking.
I go about my routine like it’s just another shift I’m getting ready for. Keys in hand, my work bag over shoulder, hoping I am wearing a neutral expression.
I sit in my car waiting until a tap at my window makes me jump, Mara stands in the shadows hood pulled low.
“Trunk,” she whispers. “In case anyone stops you.”
My pulse spikes, it's way too hot for her to be stuffed in my trunk.
“No one’s stopping me.” I try.
“Just in case.” She pleads.
I hate that she thinks that way, but with the added security since Four’s arrest, it’s the safest option. There’s two prospects at the gate now instead of one. Rotating guard shifts are tighter. More eyes… everywhere.
I pop the trunk and get out looking around to make sure no one is watching us. I parked in a section of the lot where I don't think there are any camera’s.
She climbs in without another word and I close the trunk gently.
My heart is racing when I pull up to the gate, the prospect doesn’t say anything, he just nods at me as I drive out. Like this is all routine, familiar. Safe… The word feels hollow.
Because Mara should have been safe.
Every red light feels like a spotlight.
Every engine rev makes my heart jump.
I imagine someone finding out and calling Angel, imagine Razor waking up early in a rage when he can’t find her… I imagine the trunk being opened before I’m ready…. Before it’s safe.
When we reach the edge of town, I pull into an empty grocery lot. The parking lot is cracked asphalt, and abandoned carts rattling in the wind.
I open the trunk and she sits up slowly. The morning sun hits her face, she looks younger out here. Smaller somehow…
“I’ll find a way to let you know when I’m safe,” she says.
Then she walks away.
No hug or goodbye. Just forward to an uncertain future.
I watch until she disappears around the corner and only then do I breathe.
My shift drags.
I jump every time my phone buzzes. Every patient feels heavier, every hallway feels longer.
At noon, a message comes in from an unknown number.
Mara is safe.
That’s it.
My knees nearly buckle in the supply room.
I take deep breaths knowing she is safe…For now.
I press my hand to my mouth and let the relief hit quietly.
When I drive back through the gates that evening, the compound feels different.