The Nanny // Faye Yoko AU

Chapter 38 Marcopolo

The room was bathed in the pale glow of moonlight seeping through the parted curtains, casting elongated, eerie shadows that seemed to dance across the walls. The silhouette moved silently, creeping like a wraith through the darkness, each step measured and precise. The figure paused at the side of the bed, the soft sound of breathing filling the room. With deliberate slowness, it hovered over the small form beneath the covers, poised, an unspoken urgency humming in the air.

A hand, firm but gentle, covered Mikey's mouth. The little girl's eyes flew open, wide and startled, the glint of panic flashing within them. She wriggled instinctively, a muffled noise escaping her until she locked eyes with the silhouette above her and recognized the familiar face. It was Yoko, her expression intense but not unkind.

"Shh," Yoko whispered, pressing a finger to her lips, her voice barely audible but sharp enough to cut through the haze of sleep. Mikey's heart thundered in her chest as she sat up, her small hands trembling.

"What's happening? Another fire?" Mikey asked, her voice quaking with panic.

"No," Yoko said as she placed a bundle of clothes—a pair of running shoes, a soft hoodie, and jogging pants—onto the bed. Her movements were quick, efficient, yet oddly tender, as if each motion held an unspoken reassurance. "We're leaving."

Mikey's brows knitted in confusion. "But... it's the middle of the night," she whispered, a defiant edge creeping into her voice. The panic was giving way to anger, the realization sinking in that this was more than just a midnight errand.

"Exactly," Yoko replied, a small, tight smile on her lips as she locked eyes with Mikey. "I'm getting you out unseen, so no one can follow."

A stubborn scowl set on Mikey's face as she processed Yoko's words. The flicker of understanding lit up her eyes, and with it came the unmistakable glint of rebellion. "I already told Mama. I'm not going," she said, her voice growing steadier, steeled with resolve. "I won't."

Yoko's face softened for a split second, and she leaned closer until their noses nearly touched. Her breath was warm and even, but her eyes were ice-cold with determination. "You want to know what's going on?" Yoko asked, the words laced with urgency. "I'll tell you."

Mikey's eyes widened as Yoko continued, each word slicing through the thin veil of childhood naivety. "Your mother has invited an attack on this hotel. A gunfight. Where a little angel, with very good intentions, could get caught in the crossfire." Yoko's voice was low, unwavering. The gravity of her words made Mikey's anger falter, replaced by a shiver of fear that ran down her spine.

"If you think I'd let you stay, no matter what your mother says, then you haven't learned anything about me at all," Yoko added, her tone as sharp and final as the blade she kept concealed at her side.

Mikey's defiance flickered back to life, the flame small but unyielding. "You can't just—" she began, but Yoko's expression silenced her. The young woman's face was a mask of steely resolve.

"I'm taking your security into my own hands," Yoko said firmly, eyes locked onto Mikey's, daring her to challenge her again. "Hate me if you must, but you will come quietly... or I'll put you to sleep until we arrive at the safe house." There was no room for argument in Yoko's tone, no hint of compromise. "Which will it be?"

Mikey stared at Yoko, her small chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes searching Yoko's face for any sign of weakness, any hope that she might yield. But there was none. Finally, the fight left her, and she muttered under her breath, "You're as scary as Mama."

A soft smirk played on Yoko's lips, a rare moment of humor breaking through the tension. "Of course I am," she said, lifting one brow as if daring Mikey to disagree. "I'm your nanny."