"Get her in check."
"I think we should listen to Marcus on this one."
"Are you serious, Hunter?" She crosses her arms, annoyed.
"Hey, look at me." His words are softer now as he grabs her face between his hands and turns her to look at him. She has a scowl on her face still and I can see the slightest curve in his lips, like he’s holding back a smile at how fucking cute she looks angry rightnow. "I wouldn't say this if I didn't think it was going to hurt you. Trust me?" She hesitates, looking at me from the corner of her eyes. "I will look at it first, see what he found. If I think it's not too much, I will come back and grab you. If not, I need you to know it's not because you'refragile as in weak—" He gives me a pointed look—"it's because you went through something traumatic." His face goes stone-like and she looks away from him. "Look at me." She obeys him, redirecting her eyes to him and I let out a chuckle.
"Yeah, listen to your master, princess."
She doesn't give me a reaction, not even a glare, which has my skin itching.
"I'll be back." Hunter gives her one more look and then he turns on his heels towards me, shoving my shoulder so I turn towards the door with him.
26
Hunter
I didn't like the way Marcus was talking to Elliott but I wasn't sure why it bothered me so much. She was a part of this mission and Kameron was the one that liked her so damn much, so why was I over here feeling this way?
I summed it all up as empathy. I knew what she went through and how she was treated and raised by the Donovans. How could I not want her to be happy here, after everything that happened? These last few days have been…different though. I liked having her around me and I could see the way Marcus was picking up on that, and I tried to play it off that I wanted her comfortable so that she could help us with Everton. He didn't seem to be buying it, and subconsciously I knew it was a lie too. She felt so…I don't even know what to call it. Communication is something I pride myself on, but when it comes to people or things I didn't know, I wasn't sure. It was like learning a new language.
"Right here." Marcus points at one of his monitors, "There are files with names of the people that want to enter Everton. Hundreds of names of 'Chosen brides' and their foster homes." I grind my molars together, "It even goes into detail, age, ethnicity, hair color, eye colors…and there are photos attached." He drops his hand, sits back in his chair, and turns to me. "There is a file labeled Eden."
I step back and drag my hand over my face, "How bad is it?"
"He has every detail of her life in this file, from what foster homes she’s been in, pictures of her as she grew up, all of her milestones in Everton, report cards from school, when she got her first period. There are pictures and videos I haven’t opened yet."
"Fuck."I breathe out, "We have to know."
"I know. Why do you think I told her not to come?"
"Just open them." I demand. He shifts in his seat, obviously as uncomfortable as I am.
He clicks on a file with photos and pictures of her from different ages all lined up in rows, dated from child to adolescent. Some have her real name, Elliott, and some have her Everton given name, Eden. They start with her smiling as a toddler, innocent photos of her in the bath. But as Marcus keeps clicking through, they start to take a turn. They become more staged and her smile looks more forced and she looks exhausted in most. Her face starts to droop and her appearance more weathered, as if she hasn’t taken a bath in a long time. He stops when we land on avideo that catches my eye and he must feel the tension too with how his finger hovers over the play button.
"We aren't going to like what's on this video, Hunt," His eyes don’t meet mine as he stares at the play button.
"We have to know," is all I can muster as his finger clicks on his keyboard and the video opens on his laptop below.
A little girl comes into view, she can't be more than five years old. The camera is fuzzy but those ocean-blue eyes looking right at us, we know it's Elliott. Her messy blonde hair is everywhere, matted in some spots and she looks tired. Her eyes are blinking slowly and she is swaying in her stance.
"What's your name, sweetness?" A lady's voice comes from somewhere off-screen. Elliott closes her eyes and a hand comes into the frame, slapping the side of her face. Her eyes open wide but start to droop again instantly. "Tell us your name." The voice is firmer now.
"E-elliot-t." She stutters her name out with a slight slur.
"And how old are you, Elliott?"
"I am…" Her eyes pinch together as she tries to remember, "this many." Her hand lifts, holding up four fingers.
"Fuck." Marcus mutters as I start pacing the room.
The camera shuffles a bit but re-focuses, "Four years old. You are such abiggirl. Aren't you, Elliott?" She doesn't reply as she sways. The camera zooms out and I see she’s in an empty room with just a mattress underneath her. She is wearing a nightgown with pink flowers but it looks cleaner than she is. A whispercomes from the other side of the camera, there must be someone else in the room.
"Daddy is here with us." The woman says with excitement and joy, but Elliott falters. She tries to push further back onto the mattress. Her eyes are still glazed over but there's panic in them. "Elliott, don't be that way. Daddy missed you very much."
"Hey sweetness." A male figure enters the frame, confirming my suspicions that they weren’t alone.
I know instantly that’s not her father. The biggest reason being he looks nothing like her.
