"Hey there Little Red Riding Hood,
You sure are looking good.
You're everything a big bad wolf could want."
The silence in the house was deafening. Something was out of place.
Molly shoved her weight against her bed until it bumped against the wall across the room. Beads of sweat dripped from her forehead. She ran her hands along the smooth wood floor until she felt the indent, and pressed hard. A latch clicked, and she pulled a large section of the floor away to reveal the metal door beneath. She opened it and sighed with relief; passports, a wad of freshly printed currency, and 20 boxes of ammunition. She removed half of the boxes of bullets, then replaced the wood panel and slid her bed back into place.
The grip of her Glock grew slick in her grip. She curled her toes to keep them warm. The heating in the house was always spotty.
He's coming. He's coming tonight.
She glanced at her watch. It was well past midnight. The house was dark, and Poppy slept in her room, peaceful and blissfully ignorant. Molly's eyelids grew heavy. They had almost drifted shut when she spotted a tiny pinprick of red light resting on the wall. She jerked awake and slid from her chair. She backed against the wall, out of the view of the front windows.
The light moved slowly, drifting across the wall, then back to its origin. Molly held her breath. In front of the house, she thought. How many?
From outside, she heard car doors open and close. Two cars. She could almost feel their eyes on her; feel their breath down her neck. Gravel crunched, growing closer. Molly inhaled deeply, then sprung into action.
With one hand she pulled the front door open, just enough to point her gun through the crack, and fired three shots towards the dimmed headlights of the cars.
Three cars, she thought, mentally admonishing herself. Shouts followed her shots, and she slammed the door shut, positioning herself behind the sofa. Several seconds passed, and a barrage of gunfire pounded the house. The bullets tore through the thick wood of the front door, and the windows shattered on impact. Molly wrapped her arms around her head. She lunged forward and rested her elbows on the back of the sofa, firing through the empty window frame. The darkness made it impossible to see, but she could hear her shots contact the cars, and the angry shouts of a familiar voice.
More red lights appeared, searching for her in the darkness. She ducked behind the sofa and forced bullets into the magazine. Bullets drove into the wall and sofa, missing her by inches. She was outnumbered and outgunned.
She scrambled from the living room towards Poppy's door. The bed was empty. Something squeaked from under the bed. Poppy's head emerged.
"What's happening?" Tears ran down her tiny face.
"Poppy, let's go. We're leaving." She held out her hand, struggling to keep her voice calm. More shouts from the front garden. "Hurry, Poppy!" Poppy slid out from beneath her bed and grabbed Molly's hand. She pulled Poppy along with her, gun arm outstretched and ready, towards the back door. Poppy's hand squeezed Molly's with surprising strength. Molly opened the door and pushed Poppy out into the darkness, tearing her from her hand. Poppy cried out in fear.
"No," Molly whispered fiercely. "Poppy, I need you to run. Run as fast as you can until you get to town, then go find the police."
"No, I can't," Poppy sobbed.
"I know you can. I'll see you soon, ok?" She drew an x over her heart. "I promise. I'll protect you from the baddies." Poppy hesitated. "I love you," Molly whispered. Poppy turned and disappeared into the darkness. Molly swallowed her fear and moved back into the living room.
She peered around the corner and waited. The front door shook with a resounding bang, again and again as someone kicked the door fiercely. There was a shout of frustration, then a bullet shot through the locks. The door flew open and heavy boots shuffled inside. Molly waited, listening. Finally, she rounded the corner, finger on the trigger and - CRACK! A fist hit her square in the nose. She toppled backwards, her gun flying from her hand, and landed on the floor. Someone laughed above her. Blood gushed from her nose, and her whole face throbbed with pain.
"Where's the girl?"
Molly looked up and frowned. "You're not Sebastian," she blurted, pressing her hands against her nose.
"No?" He aimed a swift kick of his heavy boot at her, hitting her in the side. "Where's the girl?"
Molly rolled on the floor and moaned. "She's not here."
"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it." He slid a magazine into his rifle and stomped to Poppy's bedroom. She heard him swear loudly. Molly allowed herself a small smile and pushed her broken nose back into place with a sickening crack. He stormed back into the room, his arm pulled back for a blow, but stopped suddenly.
"Hear that?"
Molly listened. She heard it too. Screaming. The sound pierced through her heart like a blade. The man smiled.
Molly jumped to her feet but he pushed her roughly to her knees.
"You just stay put." He pressed the barrel of his rifle to her neck.
The screams grew louder, then were replaced with anguished sobs. Molly bit her lip and pressed her hands to her face. This is all my fault. The back door flew open, and there he was, M16 in one hand, and Poppy's hair in another.
"Pleasure to see you again, Molly," Sebastian smiled. "Your daughter is a delight." He tugged on her hair sharply, and Poppy screamed. "Children should be seen, not heard."
"Stop!" The barrel of the rifle dug into her neck. "Let her go, please!"
Sebastian frowned. "Let's not get too hasty here." A floorboard creaked and Sebastian glanced at something Molly couldn't see.
"Sebastian, that's not how we treat ladies."
Molly's heart shattered. I'm finished.
"Up up, Molly," He sang. The barrel lifted from her skin, and she stood hesitantly, eyes locked on Poppy. Sebastian loosened his grip on Poppy's hair. She took a step towards Molly, but Sebastian grabbed her arm.
A shape blocked her view of Poppy, dark blue fabric and a charcoal-grey wool coat. He tapped her chin, forcing her eyes up to his.
"Hey sexy," Jim grinned maliciously. "Long time no see."
Though it had been an eternity since their last meeting, Molly was surprised by how little Jim had changed. His dark hair, slightly graying at the temples, was slicked back, his suit impeccably fitted, and his lips twisted in a wicked smile. His eyes gleamed maliciously, but carried a weight behind them, like he hadn't slept in months.
He reached for her shoulder. Molly took a step backwards, but stopped at the bite of cold metal. Jim smirked. His fingers danced across her neckline and pulled the fabric down, revealing the pale scar upon her shoulder.
"Yeah, it's you alright," He laughed. Molly clenched her jaw tightly. "Nothing? No touching speech, no 'oh Jim, how I've missed you!'" He mimicked her voice and laughed. When she said nothing, he shrugged complacently. "You're probably waiting for the make-up sex, aren't you?"
Molly snarled furiously and lunged for his neck. He sidestepped away from her. The gunman behind her grabbed her arm and wrapped his own around her neck. Jim turned to Poppy.
"And who is this lovely thing?" He knelt before Poppy, his voice softening. "Are you Poppy?" Poppy hesitated, then nodded curtly. "I thought so," He said, nodding. "Happy birthday, love." Poppy's eyes widened. She glanced at Molly, and tugged against Sebastian's grasp.
"Now, just settle down. You don't want to ruin your first day with your daddy, do you?" He grinned, baring his teeth wolfishly. Poppy glared at him viciously.
"I hate you," she snarled. She abandoned any trace of an English accent and shouted in his face. "I hate you, and don't touch my mum again!"
Jim turned to Molly. "Scottish? You let her be Scottish?" He rolled his eyes. "Better than English." He jumped to his feet and straightened his jacket. "Let's get started."
Jim had brought with him a small army of snipers and armed thugs. They trampled through Molly's house, searching for weapons while she and Poppy sat in the kitchen under the Sebastian's watchful eye. Poppy buried her face in Molly's shoulder and trembled silently. Jim never took his eyes from her, contemplating her with bemused curiosity. Molly avoided his eyes at all cost.
There's so much of him in her, he'll ruin her.
"Sir," Another of Jim's men appeared and handed him a bag. It was Molly's passport, money, and gun. Jim raised an eyebrow.
"I'm impressed. They really had you ready for anything." He opened a passport and snorted. "Rosemary Evans. Cute."
Molly said nothing. Jim waited, growing impatient. "You're looking good," he mused. Molly was unsure if this was genuine compliment or an attempt to draw her out. Either way, it felt like a trap.
"I do my best," She said carefully.
"I can see that." His shoulders relaxed slightly. "I have to hand it to you, you've done well. Five years in the wilderness, all alone. How did you manage?"
"A woman has her ways."
Jim's eyes dropped to the floor. He bit his lip, concealing his smile. "Out," He said sharply, gesturing at Sebastian. "We need some alone time." Sebastian shuffled out obediently.
"So." Jim pulled a chair from the table and sat down, arms folded over his navy suit jacket. "Let's talk."
"What could you possibly have to say?" Molly spat. Poppy jumped slightly. Molly held her tighter. "You tried to kill me."
"You tried to kill me too, if I remember right," he answered. "I've come to meet my daughter."
"Your daughter?" Molly laughed sardonically. "You're funny Jim, so funny."
"I am, aren't I?" His eyes gleamed dangerously. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today." He laughed to himself. "Mummy and Daddy together again."
"You are unbelievable," She hissed. Poppy squirmed in her grasp and peeked at Jim. He winked.
"Don't," Poppy said firmly.
"God, she's just like you," Jim raised an eyebrow at Molly. "But more… Scottish." He smiled at Poppy, but she only scowled at him. Molly caught a glimpse pain in his eyes, but brushed it aside. He's manipulating you. After a moment of silence, Jim stood and left the room without a word. Molly exhaled and shuddered.
Poppy sniffed. "Is he really my dad?"
"Yes, Poppy," Molly affirmed. "He is."