Marked by Mark

Mia and Jess sat cross-legged on the bedroom floor, flipping through a stack of glossy magazines. The overhead fan spun lazily, making the room feel smaller, cozier, like a bubble separating them from the rest of the world. They giggled at some celebrity’s outfit disaster, made weird quizzes to find "what color they were" or which element suited their personality" or "which celebrity loves you", the kind of mindless fun that felt infinite when you were twelve.

Jess reached for a neon pink marker, doodling tiny stars on Mia’s wrist.

"When we grow up, we should get matching tattoos," she said with a grin.

Mia’s heart stopped mid-laugh.

Her father.

He was coming home today.

And she hadn’t written in the notebook.

The air in her chest turned to cement. She scrambled to her feet, eyes darting around the room, her mind running through the consequences before she could stop it. She had to write it—all of it—before he got home.

Her friend noticed the sudden change.

"Mia? What's wrong?"

Mia spun toward her desk, grabbing the black leather notebook with shaking hands. She flipped it open, her fingers fumbling against the pages. Blank. Yesterday’s date, the day before that—blank.

Her stomach twisted painfully. He was going to know. If he saw a single missing entry, he’d make sure she never forgot again. Not just her, but her mom too.

Jess stood hesitantly behind her, watching as Mia gripped a pen like it was a lifeline.

"Mia, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

Mia swallowed hard. She had to fix this.

"He told me to write it every day," she whispered, barely able to get the words out. "Two pages. The same thing. Every day." Her voice broke. "If I don’t, he’ll hurt us."

Jess blinked, confused.

"Wait… What do you mean? Hurt you how?"

Mia didn’t answer. She flipped to the last written entry. The words were small, neat, almost robotic. She shoved the notebook at Jess.

"Help me write it," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "Please. If I don’t do it before he gets home—"

Jess looked at the page, reading the lines written in perfect, forced handwriting.

The Rules:

1. Always obey without question.

2. Never talk back.

3. Keep the house clean at all times.

4. No friends over unless given permission.

5. Respect and fear are the same thing.

6. If you mess up, you pay for it.

The list went on. Jess felt her stomach churn.

"Mia… who makes you write this?"

"You know who," Mia whispered.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the fan. Jess’s fingers trembled as she touched the edge of the notebook. She had never seen Mia like this before, never felt this kind of fear vibrating off of her.

She picked up a pen.

"Okay," Jess whispered back. "Let’s do it."

And together, they started writing.

The scratch of pen against paper filled the room as Mia and Jess hurried to complete the pages. As the words flowed, Mia’s breathing slowed, her hands steadying. The panic in her eyes dimmed just enough for Jess to risk a question.

"So… what’s your dad like?" she asked carefully.

Mia didn’t look up. She hesitated for a second, then kept writing.

"Strict."

Jess waited for a while, but Mia didn't elaborate further, so she nudged her.

"Strict how?"

Mia exhaled, her jaw tightening.

"He works for… something. A government thing, but not, like, the normal kind." She glanced up as if afraid someone was listening. "It’s on the down low."

Jess perked up, her pen stilling on the paper.

"Like a secret agent?"

Mia shook her head.

"No. Not like that. It’s not about protecting people. It’s about control. He does… things. Things I don’t understand, but I know they’re bad." Her voice dipped lower. "And he makes sure I won’t be weak. Ever."

Jess frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Mia looked back at the notebook, but she wasn’t writing.

"I have to work out every morning. Push-ups, running, weights. And I have to know how to fight." She swallowed. "How to handle a gun."

Jess’s eyes widened.

"You know how to shoot a gun?"

Mia nodded slowly.

"I’ve been learning since I was eight."

Jess felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn’t fear. It was... Excitement.

Her dad was a fat, miserable drunk who used her as a verbal punching bag when he wasn’t passed out on the couch. Her mom barely noticed her between shopping sprees, only stopping long enough to criticize her clothes or remind her she was "too young to have an attitude." Her life was… boring. Suffocating. Pathetic.

But Mia? Mia had something different. Something dark and dangerous and real.

"You’re so lucky," Jess whispered before she could stop herself.

Mia’s head snapped up.

"What?"

Jess hesitated, but the words were already out.

"I mean… your life. It’s not normal. It’s—it’s intense. My dad just sits on his ass all day, and my mom only cares about money. But you… you’re being trained for something."

Mia’s face twisted.

"Trained to be afraid."

Jess tilted her head, watching her.

"Or trained to survive."

For a second, they just stared at each other. Then Mia looked back at the notebook, gripping the pen tighter.

"Let’s just finish this."

Jess nodded, but something had shifted in her mind. She had always felt small, powerless, unimportant. But maybe… maybe there was another way.

-------

Jess sat on Mia’s bed, twirling a pen between her fingers as she thought back to their conversation the night before. The training. The rules. The gun.

It didn’t add up.

Mia wasn’t… built for that kind of thing. She was quiet, a little clumsy, not athletic in the slightest. She always sat out during gym class when she could, claiming cramps or a twisted ankle. And yet, according to her, her father was training her like some kind of soldier.

Why?

Jess had spent all day at school thinking about it, but by the time Mia asked her to come over again, she was more curious than confused.

"Just for a little while," Mia had said. "Please."

Jess didn’t need to ask why. She already knew. Buffer. He wouldn’t say or do anything with a guest around. She had played that game with her own dad plenty of times, carefully choosing when to bring a friend over to avoid his outbursts.

So, she agreed.

Mia’s father wasn’t what Jess expected.

She had pictured some towering, muscle-packed man with a military buzz cut and a permanent scowl. But when he opened the door, she found herself looking at someone… ordinary.

Average height. A little leaner than most dads, with sharp eyes and neatly combed brown hair. No scars, no tattoos. Just a man in a dark sweater and jeans who smiled like he was genuinely happy to see her.

"Ah, so you’re Jess," he said, his voice smooth and controlled. "Mia’s talked about you."

Jess stepped inside carefully, her instincts humming. He wasn’t scary—not in the obvious way—but something about him felt off. Like standing in a room with an animal that could decide at any second if you were prey.

"She has?" Jess asked, throwing Mia a glance.

Mia looked uncomfortable, but her dad just chuckled.

"Of course. Best friends always talk about each other." He gave her a wink before heading toward the kitchen. "You girls want a snack?"

Jess hesitated. The smile, the lighthearted attitude—it was all too smooth. Too placed. Like a performance.

Still, she nodded and followed Mia inside.

To anyone else, it would have seemed like a normal visit. They laughed, they ate cookies, they even played a card game at the kitchen table. Her father was funny, in a way most dads weren’t. Easygoing. Charismatic. But every time Mia laughed a little too hard, Jess noticed the way she tensed after, like she was waiting for something.

Jess had a good sense for people. She could tell when someone was lying. And Mia’s dad?

He was lying about everything.

It was in the way his eyes never quite matched his smile. The way his questions always seemed like they were leading somewhere else. Like he was studying her, calculating.

He wasn’t normal. And Mia knew it. That’s why she had wanted Jess here—to keep him in check.

By the time Jess was ready to leave, she was still trying to figure him out when he suddenly clapped his hands together.

"You know, Mia and I are going on a hike tomorrow," he said casually. "You should come."

Jess hesitated. Her first instinct was to say no. She barely knew this man, and something about him made her skin crawl in a way she couldn’t explain. But then she glanced at Mia—saw the way her fingers clenched the hem of her hoodie, the barely-there plea in her eyes.

Jess understood instantly. She didn’t want to be alone with him. She didn’t trust him. That was enough.

"Sure," Jess said, forcing a smile. "Sounds fun."

"Great. It’ll be an adventure." Her father grinned.

Jess wasn’t sure why, but the way he said that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. An adventure. She had a feeling it was going to be a lot more than that.

-------

Jess slipped out of the house before her parents even noticed she was awake. She didn’t leave a note, didn’t say where she was going. They wouldn’t care anyway.

Mia was already outside when she arrived, standing stiffly in front of her house with her father leaning against the car.

"Morning," he said with a smirk as Jess approached. "Ready for an adventure?"

Mia gave a tight smile. Jess just nodded.

The drive was short, filled with casual talk that didn’t feel casual at all. Her father asked Jess about school, her family, her interests—probing, collecting little pieces of her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. She answered vaguely, avoiding details, sensing the way he filed everything away in his head.

When they finally arrived at the trail, the morning air was cool, crisp, the scent of damp earth rising from the ground.

"Alright," he said, stretching his arms as they stepped onto the path. "This’ll be fun. Just keep up."

At first, the hike was slow, the three of them walking in a loose group. Jess could feel Mia’s tension easing, just a little.

Then he picked up the pace.

"Let’s make it interesting," he said suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. "See that tree up ahead? First one to reach it wins."

Jess grinned. She loved a challenge. Mia groaned but waved Jess ahead.

"Go. Maybe if he sees how bad I am at this, he’ll finally stop making me do it."

Jess took off.

Her feet pounded against the dirt path, heart racing as she sprinted toward the tree. The wind whipped past her, the rush of movement filling her with joy.

She reached it first. Easily.

Mia arrived quite a few seconds later, panting, hands on her knees.

"See?" she gasped. "Not my thing."

Her father strolled up last, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Jess, you’re fast," he said, nodding. "Ever done cross-country?"

"A little," Jess replied, brushing dirt off her hands. "I like running."

"That’s good. Being quick is an advantage." His smile lingered on her a moment too long before he clapped his hands together. "Alright, next challenge."

It went on like that—run to this boulder, reach that log first, race to the next bend in the trail.

And every time, Jess won.

Mia didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she encouraged it.

"See, Dad?" she said breathlessly after another loss. "Some people are just built for this. Jess is. I’m not."

Jess wiped sweat from her forehead, glancing between them. She saw the way Mia’s father looked at his daughter—calculating, almost disappointed.

Then his gaze flicked back to Jess.

"But you are," he murmured.

They kept moving, deeper into the woods, and Jess started wondering if maybe—**just maybe—**she should have told someone where she was going.

They had been hiking for a while when Mia’s father suddenly stopped, turning to face them with an easy smile.

"Alright, girls," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Time for a little extra challenge. Push-ups. Ten."

Jess grinned, dropping to the ground without hesitation. This was her kind of thing.

Mia groaned.

"Dad—"

"You too," he said firmly.

Jess was already halfway through her set, arms steady, core engaged. Mia, on the other hand, struggled after the third one, her arms shaking.

"Keep going," her father said, standing over her. "No stopping."

Jess finished first and sat back on her heels, watching as Mia forced out a few more before collapsing onto the dirt with a groan.

"Pathetic," her dad muttered, shaking his head. "You should be stronger by now."

Mia didn’t respond, just looked at Jess and shrugged as if to say, See? I told you.

But Jess wasn’t paying attention anymore.

"Crunches. Twenty." Her father had already moved on.

Jess barely hesitated before starting. Her heart was pounding—not from the exercise, but from the thrill. She didn’t know why, but she liked this. The push. The challenge.

Her gut told her something was off about all of this, but her body didn’t care. It was fun.

Mia, though, was struggling again. She barely made it to ten before her dad sighed.

"That’s enough," he said, waving her off. "Jess, you’re strong. I like that."

Jess glanced at Mia, but her friend just gave a small, almost relieved smile.

"Told you," she murmured. "Maybe now he’ll stop bothering me about it."

Her father laughed.

"Don’t count on it."

They kept walking, the trees growing denser, the trail rougher. Jess had lost track of how far they’d gone when suddenly, the path opened up into a clearing—and there it was.

An old military training track.

Rusty pull-up bars. Rotted balance beams. A half-collapsed climbing net.

Jess’s eyes lit up.

"No way," she breathed.

Mia’s father smiled, stepping forward.

"Abandoned years ago," he said casually. "But it’s still useful. You girls should try it out."

Jess was already moving before he finished speaking. Mia, however, hesitated.

"Dad… are we even supposed to be here?"

"Relax," he said smoothly. "No one cares."

Jess climbed onto the first obstacle—a set of parallel bars—swinging her body across them with ease. She loved this. It was like gym class, but better. No rules. No teachers. Just pure challenge.

Her gut feeling whispered that something about this was wrong. But she ignored it. Because for the first time in a long time, she felt happy.

After hours of hiking, running, and training, the day ended on a surprisingly good note.

Mia’s dad drove them to a small roadside restaurant, ordering burgers, fries, and milkshakes for all three of them. He was relaxed now, laughing, joking with the waiter, acting like any normal dad would. If Jess hadn’t seen the way Mia tensed around him, she might’ve thought she imagined all the weirdness from earlier. They ate, they talked, and for a little while, things felt… normal. Then his phone rang.

He barely glanced at the screen before standing up.

"I’ll be right back," he said, already moving toward the door.

Jess watched him step outside, pacing near the car as he answered the call. His body language changed immediately—his shoulders stiffened, his free hand gesturing sharply as he spoke in a low voice.

Mia sighed in relief, leaning back in the booth.

"Well, that went better than expected."

Jess turned to her.

"Yeah?"

Mia nodded, dipping a fry into her milkshake.

"He barely even made me work out. You took all his attention." She gave her a half-smile. "You should come with us more often."

Jess smirked, taking a sip of her drink.

"Yeah, I’d be down."

Mia’s eyes flicked toward the window, where her father was still on the phone.

"Maybe if you’re there, he’ll finally stop trying to make me into something I’m not."

Jess hesitated, swirling her straw in her shake. The memory of Mia struggling through push-ups flashed through her mind, followed by her father’s sharp, disappointed gaze.

She chose her next words carefully.

"Your dad seems strict, but… I don’t know. I can’t believe he actually—" she lowered her voice, "—hits you and your mom."

Mia’s expression didn’t change. She just let out a soft, almost amused breath.

"Yeah. No one does."

Jess stared at her.

There was something chilling about how matter-of-fact Mia was. Like she had accepted it a long time ago. Jess reached across the table, squeezing her wrist.

"I’m here, okay? If you ever need me, I’ll be there."

Mia’s smile was small, grateful. But then her fingers tightened slightly around Jess’s.

"You should be careful too," she whispered.

Jess frowned. "What do you mean?"

Mia glanced out the window again.

"You’re fun for him right now. You’re strong. You’re… different." Her voice dropped even lower. "But he only likes people when he feels in control of them."

Jess’s stomach turned.

Before she could respond, Mia’s dad stepped back inside, slipping his phone into his pocket with a smile.

"Alright, girls. Time to head home."

Mia and Jess exchanged a glance before sliding out of the booth. Jess had the strangest feeling that, despite all the fun she’d had today, she had just stepped into something she didn’t fully understand.

------

It was a crisp Saturday afternoon, the kind of day that made Jess feel restless if she stayed inside too long. She had plans to meet up with some friends at the park—a couple of kids from school who wanted to kick a ball around and maybe grab some ice cream after.

She walked with her hands in her hoodie pockets, kicking a stray rock along the pavement as she neared the park entrance.

That’s when she saw it.

A sleek black car rolling up to the curb.

Not just any car. His.

Jess slowed her pace, her heartbeat quickening. The driver’s side window lowered, and there he was—Mia’s dad.

"Jess," he greeted smoothly, like they were old friends. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

Jess hesitated, her eyes flicking around. There were people in the park, but not too many. A couple of joggers, a family near the swings. No sign of her friends yet.

"Uh, hey," she said, trying to sound casual.

He rested an arm on the window frame, tilting his head slightly.

"You meeting someone?"

Jess nodded.

"Yeah, my friends. They should be here soon."

For a moment, he just looked at her, like he was considering something. Then, that easygoing smile returned.

"That’s good," he said. "But before they get here, why don’t you take a quick drive with me? Just a few minutes."

Jess’s stomach tightened. There was something off about the way he said it. A part of her—the rational part—told her to say no. That she should keep walking, pretend she hadn’t even seen him.

But another part of her—the part that had liked the challenge of the hike, that had felt a thrill when he called her strong—was curious.

"I don’t know…" she said slowly, shifting her weight.

His smile didn’t waver.

"Come on, just a short ride. I promise I’ll have you back before your friends even show up."

Jess glanced around the park again. Still no sign of her friends. Something about this felt like a test.

And before she could think better of it, she took a slow step toward the car.

Jess settled into the passenger seat, trying to ignore the way her pulse hammered against her ribs.

Mia’s dad drove smoothly, his hands steady on the wheel. The city streets passed by in a blur, and for the first few minutes, it almost felt normal.

Then he started talking.

"So," he said casually, glancing at her. "How’s school?"

Jess shrugged. "Fine, I guess."

He hummed. "Mia doing alright?"

Jess hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Yeah. She’s been good this week."

"Good, good." He tapped the steering wheel. "She mention me at all?"

Jess felt a strange tension crawl up her spine.

"Uh… not really. Just that you were out of town."

He smirked.

"And she was happy about that, huh?"

Jess swallowed.

"I mean… she just seemed more relaxed."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Figures."

Something about his tone made Jess uneasy. Like he was reading between the lines of everything she said, testing her. She turned to look at him.

"Why did you want to take me for a drive?"

His smirk widened.

"Just wanted to talk. You’re a strong girl, Jess. Not like Mia."

Jess clenched her jaw.

"Mia’s strong too."

He glanced at her, eyes sharp.

"Not in the way that matters."

Before she could respond, the car slowed. Jess tensed, her fingers curling against her knee. Where were they?

For a moment, her mind ran through worst-case scenarios. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going. She was alone with him.

Then she looked up and blinked.

A shooting range.

Her breath hitched in surprise. What the hell? She turned to him, confused.

What? Thought I was gonna take you somewhere else?" He grinned. "

Jess exhaled, forcing herself to relax. No. He hadn’t touched her. He hadn’t even looked at her that way. And yet… something in her gut still told her to be cautious.

He parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Come on," he said. "Ever shot a gun before?"

Jess hesitated. "No."

"Want to?"

She hesitated again, glancing at the building.

"Isn’t it, like… illegal? For under-fourteens?"

He smirked. "I know people."

Jess swallowed. A gun. Shooting. It was dangerous. Probably stupid. But her fingers itched with curiosity.

"Okay," she said, pushing the door open.

Inside, the air smelled like gunpowder and metal. The walls were lined with weapons—pistols, rifles, shotguns. Men in protective gear stood in booths, aiming at paper targets.

Jess had never been anywhere like this.

Mia’s dad led her toward a counter where a bored-looking man in a black vest nodded at him in recognition.

"Got a new one?" the man asked.

He nodded toward Jess. "Let her try something light."

The man eyed her but didn’t question it.

Jess swallowed as he handed them earmuffs and protective glasses. Then, Mia’s dad led her to a booth, setting a small black pistol on the counter.

"Alright," he said, sliding a few bullets into the magazine. "Lesson one—safety."

Jess listened carefully as he explained the mechanics. How to hold it. How to stand. How to breathe.

The moment she wrapped her fingers around the grip, something clicked. She liked the weight. The power.

"Now, line up your sights," he instructed, guiding her without touching her. "Slow, steady pull on the trigger."

Jess inhaled, focused on the paper target, and fired. The gun kicked, the sound rattling through her bones.

Then she looked at the target. A perfect shot. She blinked.

"Damn. Natural talent." Mia’s dad let out a low chuckle.

Jess felt something warm coil in her chest. She wasn’t just good—she was great.

They kept going. He handed her different guns, explaining each one with an ease that made her forget all her earlier fears. Jess had never felt more in control. For the first time in her life, she understood why people liked this. It wasn’t just fun.

The shooting range had been incredible. The rush, the power, the control—Jess had never experienced anything like it before. But now, back in the car, she wasn’t sure how she felt.

Mia’s dad was relaxed, more than she’d ever seen him. He had one hand on the wheel, the other drumming lightly against the dashboard as he drove. Every now and then, he glanced at her with a knowing smile.

"You did really well back there, Jess," he said, nodding in approval. "I mean it. You’ve got a natural gift."

Jess shifted in her seat. "Thanks, sir."

"And I think we can drop the whole ‘sir’ thing now, don’t you?" He smirked.

Jess hesitated. She had always called him "sir" out of politeness, or maybe a little out of instinctive fear.

He noticed her pause and raised an eyebrow.

"Come on. Call me by my name."

Jess swallowed.

"Okay… Mark."

"See? That wasn’t so hard." He grinned.

She forced a small smile, but her mind was racing. Something about all of this felt off.

Not bad, exactly—he had been cool to her, never weird, never threatening. In fact, today had been one of the best times she’d had in a long while. But why had he taken her shooting? Why not Mia? And why did she feel like she had just stepped into something way bigger than herself?

As they neared the park, Mark’s expression shifted slightly, growing more serious.

"Listen, Jess," he said, voice calm but firm. "About today… let’s keep it between us, yeah?"

Jess turned to him sharply. "What do you mean?"

He kept his eyes on the road.

"I mean, don’t tell Mia. She wouldn’t understand."

Jess frowned.

"But she’s your daughter."

"Exactly." He exhaled, shaking his head. "Mia isn’t like you. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t want to get it. If she knew I took you, she’d make a big deal out of it, and then we wouldn’t be able to do this again."

Jess’s stomach twisted. This. Did she want to do this again? She wasn’t sure. But she also wasn’t sure she wanted to stop.

Mark pulled up to the curb near the park, shifting into park and glancing at her.

"So what do you say?"

Jess stared at her hands.

If she told Mia, it would cause problems. If she didn’t tell Mia, she was keeping a secret from her best friend.

And yet, a small voice in her head whispered, Do you really want this to be the last time?

Jess bit the inside of her cheek, glancing out the window.

"Take your time. Think about it." Mark chuckled.

Jess nodded slowly, then reached for the door handle. As she stepped out of the car, she felt his eyes on her.

"You’re different, Jess," he said before she shut the door. "That’s why I like you."

Her fingers tightened around the handle. She closed the door without another word and watched as the car drove off, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Jess walked home instead of going to the park, her thoughts spinning too fast to keep up with.

She had always been good at reading people. It was her survival skill, something she had learned out of necessity. She knew how to sense danger—real danger. She knew when a man was looking at her the wrong way, when someone had bad intentions.

And Mark?

He didn’t look at her like that.

Not once had she felt the type of fear she was used to—the kind that made her skin crawl, that told her to get out, to run. And yet… something was off. So what did he want?

He already had a daughter. This wasn’t some weird case of a dad wishing he had a girl. If anything, he seemed disappointed in Mia. So what was his angle?

Jess needed to think.

When she got home, she locked herself in her room, ignoring her parents' voices drifting through the walls. She barely noticed when her phone buzzed with a text from one of her friends at the park asking where she was.

She needed to figure this out.

And by Monday, she had a plan.

---------------

Monday Morning

Jess spotted Mia at her locker before first period, looking happy. Like, actually happy.

"Hey!" Mia grinned when she saw her. "You disappeared this weekend. Thought you got kidnapped or something."

Jess forced a chuckle.

"Nah. Just had some family stuff. How was your weekend?"

Mia shrugged. "Fine. Pretty chill, actually."

Because her dad had been gone.

Jess leaned against the lockers, her stomach twisting. What would she think if she knew where I was on Saturday?

She pushed the thought aside. She needed to play this smart.

"So, I was thinking," Jess started casually. "We’ve known each other from... forever....? And I feel like we don’t really talk about… home stuff. Like, personal stuff."

Mia raised an eyebrow. "You wanna start a trauma-sharing circle?"

Jess smirked. "I just mean… like, okay. You know my parents suck. But I don’t really know much about your family. Besides, y'know… your dad being a hard-ass."

Mia hesitated.

"Yeah, well… not much to know."

Jess knew better. There was always something to know. She decided to start with herself—a controlled opening. If she gave Mia a little, she’d probably get something back.

"My dad’s a drunk," Jess said plainly. "He never hits me or anything, but I think that’s just because he’s too lazy. He mostly just yells."

Mia’s lips pressed into a line.

"I didn’t know that."

Jess shrugged.

"It’s whatever. My mom’s not any better. She doesn’t drink, but she might as well be drunk on shopping. If she’s not out spending money, she doesn’t care what’s happening at home. I could set the kitchen on fire, and as long as her credit card wasn’t involved, she wouldn’t notice."

Mia let out a small laugh.

"Damn. That sucks."

Jess tilted her head.

"What about your mom?"

Mia’s face changed—just slightly.

"She’s fine."

Jess didn’t believe that for a second.

"You guys close?"

Mia hesitated. "I mean… I love her. But she’s not… strong."

Jess frowned. "Strong how?"

Mia sighed.

"She lets him control everything. She acts like she’s standing up for herself sometimes, but in the end, she just—folds. Every time."

Jess studied her friend.

"Has she ever tried to leave?"

"Of course not. She wouldn't even dare." Mia snorted.

Jess let that sit for a moment before shifting gears.

"What about your dad’s work? You ever know what he actually does?"

Mia blinked at her.

"Why do you wanna know so much?"

"I dunno. He’s just… interesting." Jess shrugged.

Mia rolled her eyes.

"Sure. If by ‘interesting’ you mean terrifying."

Jess laughed.

"Okay, fair. But seriously. He says he’s government, right? But like… what part? FBI? Military?"

Mia hesitated. "I… don’t actually know."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Mia shook her head.

"He doesn’t tell me much. Just that he does 'important work' and that people listen to him." She made air quotes. "Whatever that means."

Jess filed that away in her head. He was someone people listened to. He had power. That made sense. He carried himself like someone who was used to being in charge.

"Has he always been that way?" Jess asked. "I mean… even when you were little?"

Mia was quiet for a second. Then she nodded.

Jess exhaled. She wasn’t sure if she had learned anything new yet, but she was starting to put some pieces together. And the more pieces she gathered, the more she realized this wasn’t just about Mia.

Her dad didn’t just want control over his daughter. He wanted control over someone like Jess.

And that was what scared her the most.

---------

Keeping Mark’s secret had been easier than she thought. At first, it had felt wrong—hiding something so big from Mia, sneaking around, playing along. But the more time she spent with Mark, the more normal it felt.

The secret became a habit. The lies became routine.

And soon, their trips became regular.

Mark took Jess everywhere—places she never thought she’d step foot in. Abandoned warehouses. Underground shooting ranges. Remote training spots deep in the woods. He had connections everywhere.

And Jess?

She learned everything.

One afternoon at a garage Jess had no idea if it was Mark's at all....

Mark tossed a wrench at her, and she barely caught it in time.

"If you ever need to hotwire a car," he said, popping the hood open, "it’s all about speed. You get in, you get out. No hesitating."

Jess wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"How many times have you done this?"

"More than you need to know."

Jess grinned. She liked that answer.

Another night, in an empty field.....

"Ever thrown a grenade before?" Mark asked, holding one up.

"Are you serious?" Jess stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Dead serious." He gestured to a makeshift target in the distance. "You’ve got five seconds after you pull the pin. Count too slow? Boom. Count too fast? Weak throw. Find the balance."

Jess’s fingers trembled slightly as she took the grenade. But then, as always, once she focused, the fear melted away.

She pulled the pin.

She counted.

She threw.

The explosion shook the ground beneath her feet. Jess laughed.

Mark chuckled. "Now that was a good throw."

Hand-to-hand combat lessons....

The only time Mark ever touched her was during training. But it was never in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. He was a teacher, a mentor.

One day, after she got knocked down for the fifth time, she groaned, rolling onto her back.

Mark smirked down at her.

"You’re getting better."

"Better at falling, maybe." Jess scoffed.

"Falling is part of the fight," he said, offering her a hand. "Now get up."

She took it.

And kept fighting.

----------

A Year Later

The more she trained, the more natural it all became.

She could take apart and reassemble a gun in under thirty seconds. She could break into a locked car in half that time. She could throw a punch that actually hurt.

Mark had become fatherly toward her—at least, in his own way. He never pried into her home life. He never talked about his past. He just taught her.

And she loved it.

Mia had changed too.

She was happier. More at ease. She no longer flinched at loud noises. She wasn’t terrified of going home.

One day at lunch, Jess finally asked.

"You’ve been… different lately," she said casually, biting into an apple. "Good different."

Mia smiled. "Yeah. Things have been better at home."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "Your dad just stopped caring?"

Mia shrugged.

"I don’t know. It’s weird. It’s like… he just lost interest. Like all of a sudden, I wasn’t his project anymore." She popped a chip in her mouth. "I don’t even have to write in that stupid notebook anymore."

Jess nearly choked on her apple.

The rule book was gone?

Mark had spent years molding Mia into something she wasn’t—training her, forcing her, controlling her. And now, all of a sudden… he didn’t care?

Jess forced herself to swallow.

"That’s… good, right?"

Mia grinned. "It’s amazing."

And amazing it was.

Jess should have felt relieved. But instead, she felt something else. Something she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit. Was she the reason he had let Mia go? Had he stopped trying to shape Mia… because he had found someone else?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

And for the first time in a long time…

Jess wasn’t sure if she was in control anymore.

---------------------

The air was crisp, the scent of damp earth thick in the woods as Jess and Mark sat on a fallen log, taking a break. It was peaceful — just the two of them, away from the world.

Mark handed her a banana shake, her favorite. She took it with a grin.

"Did you make this?" she asked, taking a sip.

He smirked. "What, you think I just materialized it out of thin air?"

Jess laughed.

"No, I just—" she licked some of the shake from her lip, "—didn’t peg you as the ‘blender in the morning’ type."

Mark leaned back against the tree.

"Gotta have some skills outside of… you know, the usual."

Jess chuckled. The usual. Shooting, combat, breaking into things, learning about weapons. A life she never imagined for herself, but one she was good at.

She watched the wind stir the leaves before finally working up the courage to ask what had been on her mind for a long time.

"Mark," she started carefully, "can I ask you something?"

He glanced at her. "You just did."

Jess rolled her eyes. "I’m serious."

"Alright," he said, stretching his arms. "Go ahead."

She hesitated, gripping the shake tighter.

"Did you really… do bad things to Mia? And her mom?"

Mark didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her, his face unreadable. Then he exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"You really wanna know?"

Jess swallowed. "Yeah."

He nodded, staring off at the trees.

"Alright, then. Here’s the truth."

Jess couldn't decide if she should look at him or not, so she settled on stealing a glance and looking forward.

"I was born in the States, but when I was a kid, my family moved to Saudi Arabia for my dad’s work. I don’t remember much about that part of my life—just flashes. My mom’s perfume. My dad’s voice. Normal stuff."

He paused, shaking his head slightly.

"Then a bomb went off. Took them both. Left me alone in a country that wasn’t mine. They thought I was dead too."

Jess tightened her grip on the cup, watching him closely.

"I was taken in. Not by good people. I was trained, conditioned—forced into MUSAT."

Jess frowned. "MUSAT?"

"Black ops training. Off-the-record, underground. No names, no identities. Kids like me? We weren’t soldiers. We were tools." His jaw tensed. "Until I ran."

Jess held her breath.

"The U.S. government found me. They took me in—but not out of kindness. They needed someone like me. Someone who could do the things they couldn’t have their real agents doing."

"So you became… what? A hitman?" Jess said cautiously.

Mark chuckled darkly.

"Assassin, fixer, informant. Whatever they needed, I did. And the more I proved myself, the more ‘respectable’ they acted—until suddenly, I wasn’t just some stray kid anymore. I was an employee."

Jess shivered. "Jesus."

Mark let out a breath.

"Then one night, I met Mia’s mom. It was at some nightclub. She was celebrating a friend’s bridal party, and we… hit it off. It was easy, it was fun, and for once, I thought, why not?"

Jess could almost picture it—Mark, younger, probably a little less hardened, meeting a woman who had no idea who he was.

"A couple of months later, she got pregnant." He glanced at Jess. "And I thought… maybe this was my chance. A real family. So we got married."

Mark's eyes drifted ad if back in time.

Jess waited for a moment.

"And then?"

"Then the trouble started." He scoffed. "Mia’s mom—she was a journalist. She started digging. And when she found out something I did for the government. And she made it clear: if I ever left her, she’d expose me."

Jess’s stomach dropped.

"That would be a death sentence," he continued. "Not just from my old contacts, but from the U.S. government too. They don’t let people like me just walk away."

She had him trapped.

Jess was speechless.

"So… what about Mia?"

"I tried," he said simply. "Tried to teach her, prepare her, make her strong. But she’s too much like her mother." His voice dipped lower. "Mia’s mom likes control. She wanted me to be the ‘man’—to be rough, to be cold, to be the monster she could hide behind. She has this… need to be the weak one in everyone’s eyes. And if I didn’t give her that? She’d make sure I paid for it."

Jess’s heart pounded.

"You can’t imagine the things she makes me do to her," he muttered.

Jess couldn’t believe it. She had always assumed Mia’s mother was the victim. That Mark was the one who controlled everything. But now…?

"That’s insane," she whispered.

Mark gave her a tired smirk. "Yeah. But it’s true."

"I mean, it’s just—" she looked at him, searching his face. "It’s hard to believe."

Mark studied her for a long moment. Then his smirk faded.

"Then let me prove it to you."

Jess’s stomach twisted. "How?"

His eyes darkened slightly. "You’ll see."

And even though a small voice in her head told her she should walk away now… She knew she wouldn’t. She wanted to know the truth. Even if it changed everything.

Jess followed Mark to the car, her stomach tight with nerves.

She still wasn’t sure if she believed him. It was too hard to wrap her head around the idea that Mia’s mom was the one pulling the strings, that Mark—this man, this soldier, this trained killer—was somehow trapped.

And yet, she wanted to see for herself.

So she slid into the passenger seat, her fingers gripping her knees as Mark started the car.

He glanced at her. "You sure you want this?"

Jess hesitated for half a second.

Then she nodded. "Yeah."

Mark smirked slightly, like he knew she would say that.

"Then don’t forget—stay hidden. Stay quiet. Just watch."

Jess swallowed hard. "Got it."

-----------------------------

Mark parked the car down the street and led Jess through the side entrance, slipping inside like he had done it a hundred times before.

Jess crouched behind the kitchen counter, peeking into the living room.

Mia’s mom was sitting on the couch, legs curled under her, a glass of wine in one hand. She looked… normal. Not scared. Not angry. Just waiting.

Then Mark stepped in.

Her eyes flicked up, locking onto him instantly.

"Finally," she said, setting the glass down. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

Mark sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Long day."

Mia’s mom studied him, tilting her head.

"That why you didn’t call?"

Mark didn’t answer.

Jess watched as Mia’s mom stood, walking toward him slowly, her expression unreadable. "Or is it because you were with someone else?"

Mark didn’t even blink.

"You know better than that."

"Do I?" She stopped just inches from him, her voice lowering. "Because sometimes I wonder."

Jess held her breath.

Mia’s mom reached up, smoothing a hand over Mark’s chest, her fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt. Not aggressive, not violent—just testing.

"You’ve been distant," she murmured. "Distracted."

Mark exhaled sharply. "You know why."

She smiled—not a kind one.

"You can run off and do whatever it is you do," she said softly, "but at the end of the day, you always come back. Because you have to."

Mark’s jaw tensed.

Jess could see it now—the way he stood rigid, controlled, but not in power.

Mia’s mom wasn’t forcing him. She wasn’t threatening him with violence. She was manipulating him. And he let her. Because he had no choice.

"You’re tired," she whispered, her fingers still resting on his chest. "You work so hard, don’t you?"

Mark clenched his jaw. "You should go to bed."

Her lips curled. "Come with me."

Mark exhaled, his head tilting back slightly like he was so damn tired of this.

"You need this," she continued, her voice dropping lower. "You need me to remind you what you are."

Jess felt something twist in her gut. She had thought Mia’s mom was weak. But now? Now, she saw the truth. Mark wasn’t the master of this house. He was just another pawn.

Jess barely dared to breathe.

Mark finally moved, stepping back. "Not tonight."

Mia’s mom’s expression flickered. Not angry. Disappointed.

Then she sighed dramatically, reaching for her wine glass again. "Fine. But don’t forget who you are, Mark."

She gave him one last look before turning away, walking toward the bedroom. Mark stood there for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, without a word, he walked past the kitchen—past where Jess was hidden—and disappeared down the hall.

Jess stayed frozen, her mind racing. This wasn’t just about Mia anymore. This was something far bigger. And now that she had seen it… She wasn’t sure she could ever unsee it.

------------------ Years passed.

Jess was no longer the same reckless, curious girl who had stepped into Mark’s car that day. She had changed. Grown. Mark had become more than just her mentor. He was her family. The dad she never had, the couch she needed, and the most trusted person she had in her life.

She had patched him up more times than she could count, stitching wounds with steady hands while he gritted his teeth and muttered curses. She had watched him come back from missions with bruises and bullet grazes, never asking too many questions—because she knew the kind of work he did.

And in return, he trained her. He listened to her; he worried about her.

She knew how to fight now. How to win. She knew how to shoot, how to disappear, how to break into places without leaving a trace.

She was his protégée.

And Mia?

Mia had become her mother.

Manipulative, self-serving, dangerous in a way Jess hadn’t expected. Their friendship had faded into something unrecognizable, and by the time Jess turned sixteen, they hadn’t spoken in years.

She didn’t regret it. Because this life—the one she had built with Mark—was the only one that made sense.

And now?

Now, it was time for her first mission.

Jess sat at the worn-out wooden table in Mark’s rented and kept-in-secret apartment, one foot propped up on the chair. She rolled a knife between her fingers. Mark was standing across from her, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"There’s an out," he said finally.

Jess stilled. "What?"

He leaned forward.

"I finally found what she has against me. The proof she took.... The only proof Mia’s mom has on me. The thing she’s been holding over my head for years? She hid it with her mother."

Jess frowned.

"Seriously? Her mother?"

"Yeah, it's been there all these years.... Right under my nose... Somewhere in her house. I don’t know where, but it’s there." Mark nodded.

"So what’s the plan?"

"We take it."

"Finally." Jess grinned.

Mark gave her a sharp look.

"This isn’t a game, Jess. You screw up, and this doesn’t just go away—it gets worse."

Jess leaned back, resting the knife on the table.

"I know."

Mark studied her for a moment. Then he sighed.

"You’ll go in alone," he said. "I’ll be nearby, but this is your job. Your first job. If you’re not ready—"

Jess cut him off. "I’m ready."

Mark exhaled through his nose.

"Then here’s what we know…"

---------------------

Jess crouched in the shadows outside the old brick house, her heart steady, her breathing even. She could hear the faint hum of a TV inside, but the lights were dim. Mia’s grandmother was old—predictable.

"Front door is too obvious. Window on the side—go." Mark’s voice crackled softly in her earpiece.

Jess moved silently, slipping toward the side of the house. She pulled out a thin metal tool, working the window latch until it clicked open. She slid inside, landing lightly on the floor.

The room was dark. Quiet.

She moved fast, scanning the space. Mark had told her the proof could be anything—a document, a flash drive, a recording. It had to be somewhere important.

Jess’s gaze landed on a desk near the bookshelf. She moved toward it, careful not to disturb anything. Her fingers worked quickly, rifling through drawers. Papers, old letters, useless junk—nothing.

She clenched her jaw.

Where would an old woman hide something important?

Then she saw it. A lockbox. Sitting neatly on the bottom shelf. Jess’s pulse quickened. She pulled it out, running her hands over the edges. It was heavy. Sturdy. And locked.

"Mark," she whispered into the mic, "I’ve got something."

"Describe it."

"Small metal box. Locked."

A brief pause. Then: "Break it open. Fast."

Jess pulled out her knife, wedging the tip under the latch. She twisted, forcing the lock to snap. The lid popped open. Inside— A USB drive. And an envelope. Jess grabbed both, stuffing them into her jacket.

Then—

A sound.

A creak from the hallway.

Jess’s stomach dropped.

Someone was awake.

She froze, listening.

A slow, careful step. Then another. Jess moved.

She slipped back toward the window, moving fast, silent. She lifted herself up, slipping out just as the door handle turned.

She landed lightly outside, heart pounding, and darted into the shadows.

"Got it," she whispered into the mic.

"Move," Mark said. "Now."

She didn’t hesitate. She ran.

Jess sat in the passenger seat of Mark’s car, catching her breath. The USB and the envelope sat on her lap. Mark watched her, his face unreadable.

"How’d it feel?" he asked.

Jess smirked. "Like I was born for it."

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. Then he reached for the USB, turning it over in his hands. "If this is what I think it is…" He trailed off.

Jess studied him. "Then what?"

Mark exhaled.

"Then I’m finally free."

Jess looked at him—really looked at him. For the first time in years, he didn’t seem like a man waiting for the next battle. He looked… hopeful.

Jess smiled. "Then let’s see what’s inside."

Mark started the car. And together, they drove into the night.

Mark plugged the USB drive into his laptop. The car was parked in a quiet alley, the glow from the screen illuminating Mark’s face as he clicked through the files. Then he found it. A video. Jess watched as Mark hesitated for just a second before hitting play. The footage was grainy, security camera quality, but clear enough.

A dimly lit club. Loud. Crowded. Then—Mark. Younger, sharper, but still him. And then—another man. A brief exchange, tension in their body language, something off. Then—a gun.

Mark moved fast. Too fast. The other man barely had time to react before the shot rang out.

Jess held her breath.

The man dropped. Blood pooled across the floor. The club barely reacted—too loud, too chaotic. Mark tucked the gun away and walked out. The video ended.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, Mark leaned back in his seat. Jess shifted.

"So… that’s what she had on you?"

Mark let out a low chuckle. "Yeah. The government must’ve wiped all the copies, but Mia’s mom—she got one first. Smart bitch."

Jess frowned. "Who was he?"

Mark closed the laptop. "Someone who needed to go. Someone bad for the US."

Jess didn’t push further. She knew by now that some things weren’t meant to be explained. Then she picked up the envelope. There was a photo inside.

It was of Mark—a younger version of him. Taken from afar, as if someone had been watching. Jess turned it over. There was a single line of text.

"You can run, but you’ll always be mine. Xoxo."

And underneath it—a lipstick kiss. Jess’s stomach twisted.

"This. is the photo she gave me when she said she had evidence against me." Mark said, looking at the text on the back.

Then, unexpectedly—he laughed. Not his usual low chuckle, but a real, genuine, relieved laugh.

Jess blinked. "You good?"

Mark grinned, tossing the envelope onto the dashboard.

"Better than good. It’s time for my damn divorce."

Jess smirked. "About time."

Mark exhaled, leaning back against the seat, looking lighter than she’d ever seen him. Then he turned to her, his expression softer than usual.

"You did good tonight, kid."

Jess shrugged, pretending not to care. "I know."

Mark chuckled, shaking his head before starting the car. He dropped her off at her house, watching as she slipped inside before driving off into the night. For the first time in years, Mark was free.

And Jess?

She was just getting started.

------------------------------

Days passed.

Then a week.

Then almost a month.

And nothing.

Jess checked her phone constantly, waiting for a message, a call—anything. But Mark had vanished. No late-night meetups, no training sessions, no cryptic warnings about bad decisions. Nothing.

At first, she told herself he was laying low. Maybe tying up loose ends. But as the silence stretched on, the thought crept in— Maybe he used her. Maybe she had been just another pawn in his game, just another tool to help him escape his past. Jess hated that thought.

So instead of sitting in her room, waiting for a ghost to reappear, she grabbed her backpack and headed to the park.

The gym area there was perfect for letting off steam. Metal bars, climbing ropes, and benches for bodyweight workouts—it was all she needed to shut off her brain. With her headphones in, she jumped onto the pull-up bar, feeling her muscles strain as she lifted herself up. One. Two. Three.

She wasn’t thinking about Mark anymore. She was just moving. Then—movement in the corner of her eye. Someone was walking in her direction. Jess dropped from the bar, shaking out her hands. Then she saw who it was.

Mia.

With her new girls, vaping and holding beers like they were accessories, laughing loudly as they made their way across the park.

Jess tensed. It had been a while since they had last spoken. Years, really. But Mia looked happier than ever. Carefree, confident, like she had finally become exactly what she wanted to be.

Mia spotted her and smirked.

"Well, well. Look who’s still pretending to be one of the boys."

Jess pulled out one headphone, forcing a neutral expression.

"Mia."

Mia took a drag from her vape and exhaled lazily.

"Didn’t think I’d run into you here. How’s life?"

"Fine." Jess wiped her hands on her pants. "You?"

Mia laughed, tossing an arm around one of the girls in her group.

"Amazing, actually. Finally living my best life. No more rules, no more bullshit. Just fun."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Mia grinned. "If you remember my dumbass father—he’s gone."

Jess stilled.

Mia took another sip from her beer.

"Mom finally divorced him. Best thing she ever did. He’s leaving us alone. That's why we're celebrating...."

Jess’s stomach twisted. Mark was gone. Mia’s girls giggled, already distracted, but Jess forced herself to keep her expression neutral.

She shrugged, feigning disinterest.

"Oh yeah… I think I remember him. What happened to him?"

Mia scoffed. "Who cares? Probably ran off to do whatever shady shit he does in another country." She flicked the beer bottle, spilling some of its contents. "Good riddance."

Jess forced a smirk, nodding.

"Yeah. Guess you don’t need that rule book anymore, huh?"

Mia laughed.

"Hell no. That thing’s dead and buried. Just like him."

Jess swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to be careful. Mia didn’t know anything. Didn’t really know who her father was, what he had done, what Jess had been a part of. So she kept her face blank, nodded along, and watched as Mia and her girls wandered off, laughing, drinking, carefree. And when they were gone—

Jess exhaled. Her hands curled into fists. Mark was out there somewhere. And she was going to find him.

A year.

It took him a whole damn year to come back. At first, Jess had been angry. Then sad. Then angry again. But after a while, she stopped waiting.

She had been through this before—fathers disappearing, people leaving. Mark was just another one in a long line of disappointments.

But at least he had left her with something. She had skills. She had strength. She kept training, refining everything he had taught her. She studied, worked, built a normal life for herself—or as normal as it could be.

And she even had a boyfriend.

Dave was good for her. Steady. A little boring, maybe, but safe. He didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t poke at the parts of her she didn’t want to share.

And on that particular night, they were just strolling down a busy street, enjoying the lights, the music from nearby bars, the normalcy.

Then—a hand grabbed her wrist.

Before she could react, another hand covered her eyes.

Dave immediately shouted.

"What the hell, man? Let her go!"

But Jess didn’t freeze. She reacted. Instinct took over. She twisted sharply, grabbing the stranger’s wrist, her other arm coming up to shove him off—and nearly slammed him into the pavement. Then she saw his face. Her breath caught. Mark. Standing there, grinning like he hadn’t just vanished for a year.

Jess staggered back. "You—"

"What the fuck, Jess? What was that...." Dave stepped back visibly surprised by her skills.

Mark straightened, rolling his shoulder like he actually felt the throw she almost delivered. "Damn, kid. I knew you’d get better, but I wasn’t expecting to get my ass handed to me in the first five seconds."

Dave stepped in front of Jess.

"Who the hell are you?"

Mark ignored him, his eyes locked on Jess.

"You gonna introduce me?"

Jess’s mind raced.

He was here. After a whole damn year. Smirking like nothing had happened. She clenched her jaw.

Dave's gaze darted between them.

"Jess? Who is this guy?"

She exhaled sharply, shoving down every emotion crashing into her.

"He’s nobody," she muttered.

Mark’s smirk faltered—just for a second. Then he exhaled.

"Fair enough."

Jess folded her arms. "What do you want, Mark?"

Dave blinked and stepped to the side again.

"Jess, who is that?" he insisted.

Jess shot him a look. Not now.

Mark glanced around.

"This really the place you wanna have this conversation?"

Jess scowled. Oh, now he wanted to be discreet? She hesitated. She should walk away. She should. But she didn’t.

She turned to Dave. "I’ll catch up with you later."

Dave frowned. "Jess—"

"I got this," she said firmly.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but after a long moment, he exhaled. "Fine. Text me. I think we need to have a convo..."

Mark watched with mild amusement as Dave walked off, disappearing into the crowd.

Then, finally, he turned back to her.

"Nice guy. Little soft, though."

Jess rolled her eyes.

"Don’t. Just tell me what you want."

Mark studied her, his expression shifting—no longer playful, no longer teasing. He was serious.

"I need your help.

Jess laughed. A short, bitter sound.

"Oh, no. No way. You disappeared for a year, Mark. A whole year." She jabbed a finger at his chest. "I thought you were dead. I thought I got played. And now you just show up and expect me to—"

Mark held up a hand. "I get it."

Jess glared at him. "Do you?"

His expression softened—just slightly. "Yeah, kid. I do."

For the first time since seeing him, she noticed the wear on his face. The slight hollowing under his eyes. The tension in his jaw. Something had happened.

Jess exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down her face.

"You’re a damn headache, you know that?"

Mark smirked, but it was tired. "Yeah. I’ve heard."

She sighed. "Fine. You get five minutes. Start talking."

And just like that, she was back in the game.