【 Stranded 】 Miguel O'Hara

Part 9

When Lori finally arrived home her mind was in a state of disarray, thoughts swirling around so fast that it dizzied her. It was to the point where she had to actually think to stop herself from tripping through her fire escape window– a place she passed through every single day. Though apparently, she didn't think hard enough as her foot still caught on the window sill.

Miguel noticed her clattering immediately, turning his eyes away from whatever gadget he was working on at the dining table to her. "Are you alright?"

Lori was breathing heavily, winded from how fast she was swinging. She hadn't even realised her own speed. She only knew that she wanted to get home as fast as she could, to avoid any thoughts and to bundle up in the comfort of her own bed. "I'm fine. I just need to catch a breather..." Lori pulled off her mask, hoping it would make the breaths easier.

In an instant, Miguel shot up from his chair and strode straight towards Lori. Before she could ask what he was doing he grabbed her chin and inspected her face. "What the hell happened to your cheek?" He tilted her face upwards, garnering a better view.

Lori offered a confused look before bringing her fingers up to the supposed injury and wincing at the sting of her own touch. She then looked at her fingers which were painted by a deep crimson. "Oh, he clawed me..."

"Who?" He asked, in a dangerously low tone.

Lori blinked at him. "Black cat. He's a... frenemy of mine."

Miguel scoffed as if he hated hearing the name. "Que cabrón... Of course it's black cat." He brought his hand to her cheek, beginning to wipe the excess blood off softly with his thumb.

Heat rushed to Lori's cheeks as she looked at him with wide eyes. She knew he probably didn't mean anything by the gesture, but it was undeniably... Intimate.

He froze at her expression, quickly withdrawing his hand. A brief silence followed. But before he could apologize, she spoke up, "It's fine, really. Just a scratch—doesn't hurt at all."

"...That's not just a scratch thats a slash. Sit down." He said, ushering her over to the couch. She fell onto it with a plop. And while Miguel navigated to the kitchen, searching the cabinets for something, Lori simply stared out the windows with absent eyes, reluctantly thinking back to the events of before.

She didn't get it. She just didn't get it. What reason would Harriet have to resort to hiring Felix to do her dirty work? Lori wasn't on terrible terms with him, but objectively, he was a criminal—an immoral, thieving, high-profile criminal. She never would have imagined that Harriet would associate with anyone like that, let alone Felix. And sure, Harriet didn't always have the greatest sense of integrity, but she at least knew right from wrong. But this was just... corrupt.

"Did you hear me Lori?"

"Sorry?" She rose her head, turning to face Miguel.

He frowned at her from behind the kitchen island. But for once it wasn't disapproving... It was a sort of concerned looking frown. "I asked where you keep the first aid kit."

"Oh... Top shelf to the left." Lori said, promptly turning away once again. She wasn't acting like herself. But how could she? After what she had just learned.

Soon enough Miguel found his place beside her, opening the first aid kit on his lap and getting to work.

"You don't have to do this... It's really nothing." Lori restated.

"Cállate." He snapped. But his eyes stayed empathetic. "Just tell me what happened."

"Well, Gigi got the info... There's a shipment, next week-"