Page 13 of Rescuing Mia
I lower the boy—Karlo—into her waiting arms, and she crushes him to her chest, tears streaming down her face. She looks up at me, her gratitude shining in her eyes, and thanks me profusely in rapid Tagalog.
I wave off her thanks with a smile, just happy to see them reunited. Karlo grins at me over his mother’s shoulder, waving goodbye as they disappear into the crowd.
It’s a small moment, a fleeting connection in a sea of strangers, but it warms me from the inside out. This, right here, is what I’ve been missing. This sense of purpose, of making a difference, no matter how small.
With a renewed spring in my step, I continue my journey through the vibrant streets of Manila, eager to see what other adventures await.
It’s second nature to me, this need to protect, to serve. It’s who I am, down to my very bones.
As I continue my wanderings, a commotion up ahead catches my eye. A scuffle has broken out, voices raised in anger as fists fly. I quicken my pace, pushing through the crowd, intent on breaking it up before someone gets seriously hurt.
But as I approach, something unexpected happens.
A woman, her face a mask of fear and exhaustion, stumbles out of the melee. Her momentum carries her straight into my arms. I catch her instinctively, my hands gripping her shoulders to steady her.
And in that moment, as I look down into her face, the world seems to stand still.
She’s breathtaking—with dark captivating eyes that draw me in and long, black hair that flows over her shoulders like ink. Her features are finely sculpted, with an elegance contrasting with her fierce determination.
Yet there is something more—a tension that tightens her posture, a haunted expression that hints at deeply ingrained secrets and fears.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice low and gentle.
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine, before nodding. “I… I need to get to that café. It’s important.”
I don’t know what compels me, but I find myself nodding. “Let’s get you there then.”
She studies me for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression, before accepting my offer.
As we navigate the crowded streets, I can’t shake the feeling that this moment, this chance encounter, is somehow significant.
This woman, with her haunted eyes and her secrets, is going to change everything.
I just don’t know how yet.
Chapter Eight
MIA
Oppressive humidity clingsto my skin as I navigate the crowded street. The air is thick and heavy with the mingled scents of street food, exhaust fumes, and the faint, ever-present aroma of the nearby sea.
The city pulses with an energy that seems to vibrate through the pavement beneath my feet, alive with a festive atmosphere. I don’t know what holiday is being celebrated, but there’s a massive party on the street.
Laughter and chatter fill the air, rising and falling like the tide, mixing with the vibrant colors that adorn everything in sight.
Strings of lights in hues of red, green, and gold drape the streets. Once it’s dark, they’ll cast a warm, inviting glow over the revelers. Decorations hang from every window and doorway, their shimmering surfaces catching the light and reflecting it back in a dazzling display.
As I weave my way through the crowd, my heart races with each step. My left hand instinctively goes to my backpack, feeling for the reassuring outline of the tablet nestled within. The information it contains weighs heavily on my mind, the proof of the heavy water being diverted from my research project for other purposes.
I hug the backpack close to my body, once again carrying it backward. My eyes dart from face to face, paranoid that someone might try to snatch it away.
The anticipation of meeting my contact from the U.S. Embassy sends a shiver down my spine, a cold ripple of fear that seems at odds with the sweltering heat. It’s a fear born not just from the danger I’m in but from the desperate hope this meeting will bring an end to the nightmare I’ve been living for the past couple of days.
I’ve gone from being a respected scientist to a fugitive.
A traitor.
Constantly looking over my shoulder, I don’t know who I can trust. The weight of my secrets is a constant burden, a physical and emotional strain that threatens to break me with each passing hour.