Chapter 2: The Safe Haven
The sanctuary wasn't a fancy estate; it was Lawson’s Custom Repair, a rustic auto shop on the outskirts of town with a cozy living apartment tucked above the garage. The air smelled of motor oil, roasted coffee, and old pine wood.
Hank brought Mia upstairs, where his long-time friend Sarah—a former trauma nurse who ran the local diner downtown—was already waiting with a first-aid kit and a warm blanket.
""Oh, sweet mercy,"" Sarah whispered as Mia stepped into the light. She immediately knelt down, wrapping the girl in a thick fleece blanket. ""Look at you, sweetheart. Let's get you warmed up.""
Mia sat quietly on the worn flannel sofa, holding a mug of hot cocoa with both hands as if it were a fragile artifact. Her eyes darted around the room—taking in the wooden bookshelves, the antique tools mounted on the wall, and the soft yellow lighting. It was completely different from Julian’s sterile, silent mansion where every movement was scrutinized.
""What's your name, honey?"" Sarah asked softly as she checked the cast on Mia's right arm.
""Mia,"" she whispered. ""Mia Miller.""
Hank leaned against the kitchen doorframe, holding a mug of black coffee. ""Her arm was broken recently. She said the guy in the coat did it.""
Sarah’s expression hardened with quiet outrage. ""The cast is cheap, and the setting looks rushed. Someone tried to hide this instead of taking her to a proper hospital.""
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Mia looked down at her knees. ""He said if I cried, he'd send me away to a place where nobody would ever find me. I ran when he stopped for gas.""
Hank set his mug down with a firm tap. ""You don't have to run anymore, Mia. You're safe here.""
