Erica Sinclair - The Haven (M/F)

[Tetrahedron7Z]

Really creative. It’s fun to read stories where the tie ups are not necessarily the main point of the story. Keep up the great work.

[Jenny_S]

Dear @LunaDog, so now Slick has tested Megan and he has tested Erica. What is he testing them for?

[Jenny_S]

Dear @Tetrahedron7Z, thank you for the kind comment. I really appreciate feedback from my readers.
My stories contain bondage scenes, but it's never only about the bondage. This is story no.10 in my ongoing series around Erica Sinclair. Have you read the previous stories as well? The Ericaverse develops throughout the series, new details are added as you follow our protagonists.
Currently, I'm working on story no.17 with an idea for no.18 sketched out already.

[Tetrahedron7Z]

@Jenny_S

No, I haven’t read the previous ones. I actually just stumbled upon this one. I’ll make sure to check out the others though.

[Caesar73]

@Jenny_S

No, I haven’t read the previous ones. I actually just stumbled upon this one. I’ll make sure to check out the others though.

Believe me, you will enter a fascinating Universe!

[Caesar73]

Another great Chapter from the first line to the very last. Megan is continuing her Journey: I like the Moment the takes Notes what Pizzas the Kids want. Erica notices how Megan grows.

The Centre Piece for me? When Erica tells the Story about getting shot. She builds a rapport with the Teenagers. She delivers an important Lesson here.

That Slick trys to scare her off was to be expected. But Erica holds her ground.

Well done again @Jenny_S !

[Jenny_S]

Dear @Tetrahedron7Z, just follow the link in my signature to my Wattpad page or search for my stories here on TUG.
If you like, please drop me a DM with your comments, I always love hearing from my readers.

[Jenny_S]

Dear @Caesar73, thank you sooo much. Your endorsement means a lot to me. The Ericaverse continues to grow and it looks like I'm not running out of ideas for new adventures for our heroine.

[Jenny_S]

Erica and Megan climb into Erica’s black Volvo, the doors closing with a quiet click. The engine purrs to life, and as they pull out onto the street, city lights streak past in the gathering dark, shadows shifting over Erica’s face in sync with the flickering streetlights.

For a while, they drive in silence, the gravity of the encounter with Slick hanging between them. Eventually, Megan glances over, curiosity mixed with caution in her expression.

“What do you think of Slick?” she asks, breaking the quiet.

Erica doesn’t answer right away, her eyes focused on the road. She lets the question linger, weighing her thoughts before she responds. Finally, she sighs softly, her tone dry as she replies.

“You know, even among good kids, there are a couple of…shitbags.” She lets the word hang in the air, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Megan stares, then a surprised laugh bursts out, filling the car with a warmth that cuts through the tension. “Did I just hear you say that?” Did her ever-articulate boss just use a cussword?

Erica raises an eyebrow, allowing a slight smirk. “I know a shitbag when I see one.” she deadpans, her voice laced with a touch of humor.

The laughter softens the edges of the night, even as Erica’s thoughts drift back to Slick’s dark, calculating gaze. Beneath his cocky smirk, she senses something more - a threat simmering, hidden but not forgotten. His motives are still veiled, but she knows his appearance at the shelter isn’t mere coincidence.

Her smile fades, her brow furrowing slightly. “We’ll figure out his angle soon enough.” she murmurs, mostly to herself.

Megan nods, catching the seriousness in Erica’s voice. The air in the car feels lighter, the tension of the night tempered by their shared resilience. As the city lights blur by, Erica feels a renewed determination. Whatever Slick’s intentions, she’s prepared to face them.

And this time, she feels she isn’t facing them alone.






Erica pulls her car up to the curb outside the Sinclair & Associates office on Park Avenue. The city lights cast a muted glow on the quiet street, the building’s glass facade reflecting her tired expression. Megan, sitting in the passenger seat, leans over, her eyes bright with pride after a long, challenging day.

“Thanks for everything tonight.” Megan says, her voice softer than usual. “Really.”

Erica nods, offering a gentle smile. “You handled yourself well, Megan. Proud of you.”

Megan smiles back, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. She opens the door and steps out, giving a small wave before she disappears into the evening crowd and heads for home. As Erica watches her walk towards the subway station, she feels a surprising warmth - a feeling of accomplishment, not just for herself but for Megan. She didn’t expect Megan to adapt so quickly, but today proved that this girl has a resilience she hadn’t anticipated.

Erica pulls her Volvo into the traffic and drives home, the exhaustion of the day starting to settle over her. The moments with Slick and the kids start to replay in her mind, leaving her both drained and strangely fulfilled.

When Erica arrives at her apartment, Spot and Tiger, her two mischievous kittens, are already at the door, weaving between her legs and purring loudly, little motors of unconditional affection. She bends down, scratching them both behind their ears, their fur soft beneath her fingertips. “Alright, alright.” she murmurs, opening a can of food and filling their bowl. Spot dives in eagerly, while Tiger pauses, rubbing his cheek against her leg once more before eating.

After they’re fed, Erica steps into her bedroom and sheds her clothes slowly, each piece feeling heavier than she remembers. She drapes her shirt and jeans over the tall back rest of the Hillhouse designer chair, then hesitates as she picks up her leather jacket. She holds it up to the light, her fingers instinctively running over the torn, rough edges of the bullet hole, her eyes tracing the dark stains where her blood had soaked into the leather. The memories of that night return in vivid flashes - the coldness of fear, the dizzying sense of mortality, the deep resolve that had driven her to protect her friend.

Tonight, she shared some of those memories with the kids. She had revealed a vulnerability she’s kept buried inside her ever since, exposing pieces of her past she normally keeps locked away. And yet…she doesn’t regret it. Telling them about her fears and her moral compass feels like an unexpected release. She wonders if it’s because she sees so much of herself in them - the need for purpose, for a way forward, no matter how broken they might be.

Finally, Erica slips into the bathroom, letting the sound of the running water calm her as she steps into the shower. She leans her head back, letting the hot water pour over her shoulders, washing away the strain of the day, the grime of memory. She closes her eyes and lets herself be still, taking long, steady breaths until she feels the tension ease from her muscles.

Stepping out of the shower, she towels herself dry and spends a few minutes blow-drying her hair, watching her reflection in the mirror. Her face looks more tired than she expected - lines of fatigue she rarely allows herself to notice. She wraps herself in her maroon silk kimono, the fabric cool and comforting against her skin, and pads barefoot to the kitchen.

With a quiet sigh, she pours herself a glass of Nero d’Avola, swirling the deep, dark red in the glass before she takes a slow sip. She sinks into the couch, the wine’s warmth spreading through her, loosening what little remains of the day’s tension. The kittens, sensing her calm, jump up beside her, curling into the small spaces along her legs and purring softly.

In the quiet of her apartment, Erica allows herself a rare moment of reflection. She feels the weight of her choices tonight, the honesty she shared, and the progress she sees blooming in Megan. It feels like an unexpected gift, a reminder of the purpose she’s found in helping these kids, even if it means revealing her own scars along the way.

With another sip of wine, she lets herself sink into the comfort of the evening, the flickering city lights outside mingling with the quiet purrs beside her - a strange, satisfying peace.

Tomorrow she will ask the kids if they want to go back to school and to talk to the Principal and she will send Megan and Chloe to visit those animal shelters who said they were happy to have volunteers.

Tomorrow…




Megan and Erica step into the youth shelter, expecting to find the kids in the Wigwam. Instead, they find an unsettling quiet, the kind that settles heavy in the air. Erica stops, her gaze narrowing, while Megan instinctively moves toward the hallway, hearing faint voices coming from one of the rooms. Following the murmur, they walk into Chloe’s room and stop short at the sight before them.

Chloe lies on her bed, her face bruised and swollen, a dark, angry purple marking her eye, barely open, and her cheek mottled with ugly blotches. Every breath she takes is shallow, shaky, rattling in a way that makes Megan’s stomach twist. The faint, coppery scent of dried blood lingers, mixing with the smell of fresh paint in the room. Erica crouches down beside her, reaching for Chloe’s hand, her voice trembling with concern as she notices the bruises on the girl’s wrists.
It doesn’t take much imagination to see that Chloe had been tied before she was beaten up.

“Megan, call an ambulance.” she says without thinking twice, her voice tight with urgency.

Chloe’s swollen lips part, and she barely manages a hoarse whisper. “No… don’t. No ambulance.” she rasps, her voice like sandpaper. “It…it was just an accident. Stupid…mistake.”

But Megan catches the flicker of pain in Chloe’s eyes, the flinch that doesn’t match her words. She sees Erica’s jaw tighten before she stands abruptly and heads for the door, muttering that she’s going to get Director Peters. Megan nods, and as Erica disappears down the hallway, she turns her attention to the others in the room.

Seven of them are crowded there, standing near the walls, expressions ranging from shame to discomfort. The silence between them is thick, broken only by Chloe’s shallow breathing. Megan looks at each of them, waiting, expecting one of them to explain. But they don’t. They stare at their feet, shifting uncomfortably, the weight of their silence pressing down harder with each passing second. Frustration bubbles up in Megan, and she crosses her arms tightly over her chest, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Well?” she snaps, her eyes blazing. “What happened to her? Or are you all going to keep pretending you don’t see what’s right in front of you?”

She waits. The silence tightens, and something inside her snaps.

“Cowards.” she hisses, the word cutting through the room. Her voice trembles with rage, her hands now clenching at her sides. Despite Chloe’s lame explanation that it was an accident, she just knows that someone laid hands on the girl.

“Look at her! And none of you had the guts to stand up for her?” Her words hang in the air like a dark cloud, and the kids look away, shuffling their feet, but still saying nothing.

Finally, Dennis steps forward, his face pale, his voice barely audible. “It was one of Slick’s guys…he tied Chloe’s hands with a zip tie, stuffed a rag into her mouth and beat her up… said there’s only one who can protect us.” He stares at the floor, unable to meet Megan’s eyes, his own voice laced with something that sounds almost like shame.

Megan’s eyes narrow, her jaw clenched so tightly it aches. She takes a slow, deep breath, forcing herself to hold back the rage boiling inside her. She glances back at Chloe, lying bruised and battered on the bed, her face twisted in pain with every shallow breath she takes.

“So, you just stood there,” Megan says, her voice shaking with fury, “and let him do this to Chloe…all seven of you.”

The words hit hard. Some of the kids flinch, their faces reddening. Jamal opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Megan can feel her anger reaching its peak, her disappointment like a sharp knife twisting in her chest.

“You’ve heard everything Erica’s been telling you.” she says, her voice barely a whisper, but the disappointment in it is unmistakable. “She told you about standing up for each other, about having each other’s backs, about being more than just a bunch of kids in a shelter. And this…” She gestures to Chloe, her voice thickening, the betrayal fresh in her voice. “This is how you chose to carry yourselves?”

Dennis finally looks up, his face flushed. “I’m sorry, Megan, we…we didn’t know what to do.”

Megan’s eyes soften for a moment, but her voice stays firm. “Next time? Do something. Anything. Don’t just stand there and let someone you care about take the hit alone.”

She moves over to Chloe, taking her hand gently, whispering, “We’ll get you through this, Chloe. No matter what, we’re here for you.”

Chloe’s lips part, as if she wants to say something, but another painful breath shudders through her, cutting off her voice. The others exchange guilty glances, shifting their weight, some fidgeting with their sleeves, others looking down at their shoes, but no one has an answer.
In that moment, Megan feels a surge of fierce protectiveness, not just for Chloe but for all of them - these kids who seem to have lost hope, lost courage, and are still trapped under the shadow of Slick and his gang. She clenches her fists harder, her mind racing, her anger mixing with frustration and a deeper sense of sorrow.
The sound of Erica’s quick, sharp footsteps returns, and Megan steps back, swallowing hard, steadying herself as Erica walks into the room, with Director Peters trailing behind, his expression set in that same guarded indifference as always. As they enter Chloe’s room, Erica takes one look at Chloe’s bruised face, at her hunched form fighting for every breath, and tightens her grip on her emotions.

Peters glances at Chloe, raises an eyebrow, and mutters, “I warned you things might get a little rough here from time to time.”

Erica’s jaw clenches, her fury barely contained. She gestures toward Chloe, fixing Peters with a hard stare. “Is this your idea of “a little rough”, Peters?” she says, voice low and laced with unbridled anger. “Someone beat this girl to an inch of her life, and you’re calling that “rough”?”

Peters holds up his hands defensively, his gaze sliding off to the side as if he can’t be bothered to meet her eyes. “Terrible. Really terrible…” he mumbles, his tone dismissive, more annoyed than concerned.

Erica bites back her retort, breathing slowly to steady herself. But she’s not about to let him turn a blind eye to what happened here. She looks at the kids, their faces filled with guilt, shame, and fear.

“Who did this?” she demands, her voice cold but controlled. It’s not a question; it’s a command. Her gaze moves from one kid to another, unwavering. “This is your chance to help turn this around. To make things right. Who did it?”

The kids shift uncomfortably, glancing at each other, some biting their lips or staring hard at the floor. Megan watches them, her frustration bubbling to the surface. She can’t help herself; this silence is too much.

“You all just stood there and allowed this to happen.” Her voice trembles with anger, but there’s also disappointment - a hurt that she thought they’d come further than this. “Is this who you are? A bunch of cowards?” Her words cut through the tension, hanging in the air like an accusation. A few of the kids wince, their heads hanging even lower.

One of the younger girls, who calls herself Babe, swallows hard and glances at Chloe, then back at Erica, fear mixed with a glimmer of shame in her eyes. “It was Brick.” she whispers finally. “He…he said it was to show us this place wouldn’t change. That…that he’s the only one who can protect us.”

Peters clicks his tongue, his gaze shifting back to Erica as if she’s the problem here. “Well.” he says, “A boy with that nickname left the shelter before you arrived.” He shrugs, adding, “Had someone mentioned it earlier…”

Erica’s face goes still, her gaze fixed on Peters with a cold fury. “Are you sure you would have prevented this?” she says, her voice like steel. “If you even cared about them, Chloe wouldn’t be lying here right now.”

Peters huffs, looking away as if he’s had enough of this discussion. “I have a meeting in a few minutes.” he says as he turns his back on the scene, but Erica’s attention is already focused on Chloe, her heart tightening as she takes in the bruises and pain on the girl’s face.

She moves over to Chloe, reaching down and taking her hand gently, whispering, “I’m sorry this happened, Chloe. We’re going to get you through this.”

The girl’s lips part, as if she wants to say something, but her breath shudders through her again, cutting off any words. Around them, the kids exchange guilty glances, some fidgeting with their sleeves, others biting back the excuses they’re too ashamed to say aloud.

Looking at the kids, Megan feels a surge of protectiveness, fierce and hot. Looking at their faces, she feels the pain and weight they carry - the kids’ unspoken fears, their hopelessness, and their silence under the shadow of Slick and his gang. Her anger is mingling with frustration and sorrow. She’s not about to let them slip back into silence. She’ll make sure they understand Chloe’s pain, make them remember what standing up for each other really means.

[LunaDog]

Slick has made a move. It may have been him personally, but i'm sure that he is behind this.

It's easy to label these kids as cowards, but he is playing upon real fear here. How will Erica respond?

[Jenny_S]

Erica nods subtly at Megan, who pulls her phone from her back pocket, fingers tense as she steps outside the room. Her heart pounds as she dials 911, and within seconds, the dispatcher’s calm voice answers on the other end.

“This is Megan Herold.” she says, her voice steadier than she feels. “I’m calling from the youth shelter on West 96th Street. There was an accident, a young woman got injured…” She hesitates, glancing back toward the room where Chloe lies bruised and beaten, but she forces herself to continue, her words weighted with reluctance. “Yes…I believe she fell…down some stairs or something. Please send an ambulance. Thanks…”

As she ends the call, a hollow feeling settles in her chest. The lie gnaws at her, twisting in her gut. She has always tried to be honest, but today, the brutal truth is something no dispatcher or official is ready to handle - not in the way Chloe deserves. Her jaw clenches, and she stuffs her phone back in her pocket, rage simmering under the surface. That a kid like Brick, possibly encouraged by Slick, had this power over Chloe and the others infuriates her, a burn that’s only matched by her disdain for men like Peters who barely seem to care at all.

The minutes pass slowly, each one thick with tension until, finally, the wail of sirens fills the air. The sound grows louder, like an ominous drumbeat, as the ambulance pulls up to the shelter. Inside, Erica stands, her gaze sweeping over the kids, her face grim but determined. Her eyes lock with each of theirs, her voice unwavering as she speaks.

“This is where it ends.” she says firmly, her words carrying a weight that presses down on the room. “For you, for Chloe. We are going to make things right.”

The kids don’t respond, but Megan can see something in their eyes, a flicker of awareness as Erica’s words sink in. The sight of Chloe battered and bruised, combined with Erica’s steady resolve, seems to finally be breaking through the silence they’ve held onto for too long.

Outside, the paramedics exit the ambulance and make their way up the short path to the shelter entrance. Megan meets them at the door, quickly leading them through the dimly lit hallways toward Chloe’s room. Her movements are brisk, her expression hardened with a fierceness she doesn’t bother to hide. As they approach the room, Peters stands idly in the hallway, arms crossed, his expression as detached and uninterested as ever.

“Is this necessary?” he mutters, eyeing the paramedics and the commotion with thinly veiled irritation.

Megan throws him a quick, searing look but says nothing, turning her back on him and focusing her attention on the paramedics. She’s done wasting time on him, on his lame, empty excuses and indifference. Right now, all that matters is Chloe and getting her the care she needs.

Erica stands nearby, watching the paramedics work with a taut focus. Her presence is steady, grounding. Megan knows she’s here for the kids, too, just like her. And nothing - not Peters, not Brick, not even Slick - will change that.





The paramedics crouch beside Chloe, examining her bruises under the room’s dim light. One of them, a solidly built man with graying hair, gently touches Chloe’s wrists, feeling for fractures. His face remains impassive, but Megan catches the flicker of unease in his eyes as he looks at her battered face.

“Nothing’s broken.” he finally says, his voice calm but firm. “But she’s badly bruised up. Gonna be sore for a while.”

The other paramedic, a red-haired woman with a kind face, glances from Chloe to Erica. Her eyes narrow, and her voice softens with suspicion as she asks, “Are you sure you fell down some stairs?” Her gaze holds steady on Erica now, sensing something off. “This doesn’t look like an accident to me.”

Erica’s face remains impassive, but there’s a tautness to her expression as she meets the paramedic’s doubtful gaze. “That’s what she told us.” she says, her voice steady but carrying a quiet edge.

The paramedic’s eyes flicker with understanding - she knows the truth, or at least enough of it. But she says nothing more, her attention returning to Chloe. She shifts a hand gently over Chloe’s shoulder, pressing softly, assessing the bruises there.

“We’ll take you to the hospital, sweetheart.” the male paramedic says. But Chloe’s eyes snap open, and she struggles to lift her head, shaking it with weak defiance.

“No…” she rasps, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll…be fine.”

The paramedic exchanges a worried glance with his partner, then sighs, a look of reluctant acceptance crossing his face. “Alright.” he says, voice gentle. “But you’ll need to rest for a couple of days. After that, you’re going to look like one big bruise for a while.”

The kids stir uneasily, exchanging guilty glances. Babe, standing near the door, wipes a stray tear off her cheek and finally steps forward. She hesitates, voice shaking as she looks down at Chloe. “I’ll help her.” she says, a fierce protectiveness breaking through her sadness.

Dennis steps forward beside Babe, shoulders squared. “All of us will help her.” he says, his voice stronger. “She’s our friend.”

The paramedic straightens, studying the group with something like quiet approval. “Well, that’s all we can do for her here.” he says, zipping up his bag. He slings it over his shoulder, then glances at Erica, gesturing for her to step outside.

Erica follows him into the hallway, the door softly clicking shut behind her. The paramedic’s face hardens, his tone low and direct. “You realize she didn’t fall, right?” he says, eyes narrowing. “Someone beat her up - bad.”

Erica’s expression hardens as she nods. “I know.”

The paramedic reaches into his bag, pulling out a business card, which he hands to her. “If she doesn’t feel better by tomorrow, take her to the ER.” he says. His gaze lingers, serious, almost imploring.

Erica takes the card and slips it into her pocket, nodding. “Understood.”

The paramedics leave, and Erica stands alone in the dim hallway for a moment, the weight of what just happened settling heavily on her. She steels herself and steps back inside, her mind racing. She realizes that this cycle of silence and fear won’t end unless something drastic changes.

As Erica reenters the room, she sees the kids standing closer together now, their faces still shadowed with guilt but also a newfound determination. The ordeal has left them shaken, and Erica senses they’re teetering on a line - one where they could either retreat into fear or start pushing back.

She glances at Megan, who nods back, understanding her intent without a word. Erica turns to the kids, her voice firm. “We can’t keep hiding from what’s happening here. Slick and his crew thrive on fear. The more you stay silent, the more power you give them. If we’re going to protect each other, we have to stop letting them call the shots.”

A murmur of agreement ripples through the group, hesitant but hopeful. For the first time, Erica sees in their eyes not just fear but a glimmer of resolve.
Dennis steps forward, his voice steady. “What do we do, then?”

“We start small.” Erica says, lowering her voice. “We watch out for each other, speak up if someone’s in trouble, and bring in those who can back us up. You’re not alone in this. But to keep this place safe, you’re all going to have to be willing to stand up - together.”

The next moment she notices Slick pass by Chloe’s room crossing the hallway into the game room. He looks at her with a smirk, waving nonchalantly.

“I’ll be right back.” Erica says as she turns on her heel to confront this wannabe gangster.

Megan moves to go with her, but Erica holds her back. “Don’t worry.” She says. “Stay with the kids, okay?”

[Caesar73]

I have the feeling Slick might be about to learn a Lesson - a hard one. I have the Feeling he miscalculated: By his reckless Attack he might achieve exactly the Opposite from what he wants .... or his Higher Ups ....

But we will see

[LunaDog]

I have the feeling Slick might be about to learn a Lesson - a hard one. I have the Feeling he miscalculated: By his reckless Attack he might achieve exactly the Opposite from what he wants .... or his Higher Ups ....

But we will see

Yes, he might well have overstepped the mark here. Has he underestimated the effect that Erica, very ably supported by Megan, is having upon these kids? Are they finally realising that there IS somebody on 'their side,' who is offering a lot more than empty words?

Peters seems almost inconspicuous by his absence. What is so afraid off, by refusing to take things seriously, and basically doing nothing?

[Caesar73]

Peters seems almost inconspicuous by his absence. What is so afraid off, by refusing to take things seriously, and basically doing nothing?

Very true, we will see if there is something more to Peters .... Somebody pressuring him?

[Jenny_S]

Maybe Peters is just incompetent. Or he is a lazy bum. Who knows...

[Caesar73]

Maybe Peters is just incompetent. Or he is a lazy bum. Who knows...

Two possibillities - there are more

[Jenny_S]

Dear @Caesar73, of course. Can't spoiler my reader, though.

[Jenny_S]

Megan leans back against the cold, peeling wall outside Chloe’s room, pressing her palms flat against the rough surface to steady herself. The events of the last hour whirl in her mind like a blur of confusion and panic. Chloe’s beating, the ambulance, Slick’s cold demeanor - it all feels too much, too fast. She exhales, trying to ground herself, but the knot in her stomach only tightens. Something isn’t right.

The hum of the shelter, the soft shuffle of footsteps echoing in the hall, fills the air around her, an eerie calm that feels wrong after everything that’s happened. Just as she’s about to push herself away from the wall, heading back into the room to check on Chloe, a flicker of movement catches her eye.

A boy, no older than fourteen, stands half-hidden in the shadows by the lounge doorframe. Megan freezes. Her heart skips, the sensation of déjà vu settling over her. She knows him.
It's the same boy who warned her the other day. The one who said, "Don’t come back."
His face is barely visible, but the flicker of recognition in his eyes is unmistakable. Megan’s stomach tightens further, but she forces her nerves into something resembling calm. She offers him a small, cautious smile, hoping it’ll make him feel less like a rat in a corner.

“Hey there.” she says, keeping her voice soft, steady. “Is everything okay?”

The boy glances nervously down the hallway, as though checking if anyone’s watching, before returning his eyes to her. His body is stiff, hesitant, like he’s torn between staying hidden and stepping forward. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his hands stuffed deep into his hoodie pockets, the tension in his posture thickening the air.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he takes a shaky step closer. “You’re Megan, right?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves are dangerous.
Megan nods, crouching down to his level, her knees creaking from the sudden movement. She forces herself to keep her smile in place despite the fear gnawing at her insides.
“Yeah. I’m Megan. What’s going on?”

The boy hesitates again, his eyes flicking nervously to the floor, like he’s not sure whether he should be here at all. His hands tremble as they tug at the hem of his hoodie, the material bunching up under his fingers. “I…I gotta tell you something.” he says, his voice almost lost in the silence of the hallway.

Megan’s pulse quickens as she leans in slightly, her entire attention on him. Whatever this is, it must be important to him.
He takes another breath, the weight of whatever he’s about to say pressing on him harder than the walls around them.

“I’m Stoop…I hear things.” he murmurs, voice barely audible. His eyes flicker up to hers, haunted. “From…from Slick. And sometimes Peters. They think no one’s listening, but I hear stuff.”

Megan doesn’t move, doesn’t speak - she just watches him, her mind racing. The words hang in the air, and she feels the icy fingers of dread crawl up her spine.
The boy glances behind him one more time, his shoulders tightening. He steps closer, his voice a strained whisper. “Stuff about…taking things. Going out to collect things.”

Megan’s chest tightens. She doesn’t react outwardly, but her heart begins to race. This isn’t just some random kid talking. There’s something bigger at play here.

“I didn’t understand at first.” Stoop continues, his voice trembling. “I thought it was just errands for Peters or somethin’. But it’s not like that, you know?”

Megan swallows, keeping her tone steady, despite the cold knot of fear forming in her stomach. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

He swallows hard, looking over his shoulder again before leaning in slightly, lowering his voice even further. “Slick and his crew, they go out at night. They bring back stuff - electronics, jewelry…money.”

The words hit Megan like a punch to the gut. The pieces are beginning to fall into place, but the full picture is still just out of reach. She nods slowly, her mind working overtime, trying to process everything.

“I’m glad you came to me with this. It takes guts. You did the right thing.”

Stoop looks up at her, his face a mixture of relief and uncertainty. “What…what are you gonna do?”

Megan meets his gaze with steady eyes, her voice firm but quiet. “I’ll talk to Erica. But trust me, we’re going to take care of it. But we might need your help. If you hear them talking again, or see anything suspicious, come find me. Or Erica. Can you do that?”

His eyes brighten with something that could be hope, something fragile but present. He nods, the smallest spark of determination flickering in his gaze. “Yeah, okay.”

As Megan watches him step back into the shadows, disappearing into the dark hallway, she feels the weight of his words settle over her. There’s something bigger happening here, something darker than she could’ve imagined. And now, she’s involved.
She just hopes Erica’s ready for it.

[Caesar73]

As Megan watches him step back into the shadows, disappearing into the dark hallway, she feels the weight of his words settle over her. There’s something bigger happening here, something darker than she could’ve imagined. And now, she’s involved.
She just hopes Erica’s ready for it.

The Fog is lifting - slowly Megan´s Journey continue - what ever is going on at "The Haven", it is now Megan´s Fight too. Slick? The Name fits the Character.

[LunaDog]

We are beginning to get more a picture of just what is going on here. Is Peters a modern day 'Fagan?' ( A reference to a character from Charles Dickins 'Oliver Twist,' who runs a gang of thieving orphans back in 19th Century London. )

[Caesar73]

We are beginning to get more a picture of just what is going on here. Is Peters a modern day 'Fagan?' ( A reference to a character from Charles Dickins 'Oliver Twist,' who runs a gang of thieving orphans back in 19th Century London. )

I like your Reference to Oliver Twist I guess, we will learn soon enough who and what Peters is

[Jenny_S]

Dear @LunaDog, dear @Caesar73, we will see, I guess...

[Jenny_S]

Erica left Megan with Chloe and the others, her mind already shifting gears as she strides into the game room.
The air feels heavy, thick with something unsaid, something wrong. She spots Slick immediately - sitting alone at a small, battered table, a chessboard laid out in front of him. He’s absorbed in his solo game, moving the pieces with eerie precision, controlling both sides, his focus so intense it borders on obsessive.

She stands there for a beat, watching him play, but he doesn’t acknowledge her, doesn’t even look up as she enters. The silence hangs between them like a taut wire, charged with unspoken threats.

Slick, however, is lost in the world of his own game, quietly making a decisive move with the black queen, capturing a bishop with a satisfaction that makes Erica’s skin crawl.

Erica’s patience snaps. She steps closer, her cowboy boots echoing too loudly in the stillness. She places her hand on the edge of the table and, in one swift motion, turns it over. The chess pieces fly across the floor, the clatter sharp and jarring - rattling, breaking the charged quiet. Rooks and knights scatter, their plastic clinking on the tiles like the sound of a broken promise.

This unexpected move definitely gets Slick’s attention.

Slick’s chair scrapes back with a violent jerk. He stands, fists clenching, eyes flashing with sudden fury. For a heartbeat, it seems like he might explode - lash out at her. But Erica doesn’t flinch. She holds his glare, calm and unyielding, leaning in with a dangerous, almost predatory smirk.

"Go on." she taunts, her voice low and laced with challenge. "You’re good at hitting women, right? Show me what you’re made of."

Slick’s rage rises, muscles coiled tight, his stance radiating menace. But then, a flicker of control passes over his face. He steps back, tucking his hands into his pockets, chin lifting in defiance. The smirk on his face turns cold, calculating.

"I didn’t lay hands on that little shit." he sneers, voice dripping with disdain. "If you think I’d waste my time on her, you’re dumber than you look."

"Right." Erica says, her voice smooth but sharp as glass. "I forgot. You’ve got your goons to do the dirty work for you."

She doesn’t blink, her eyes never leaving his, watching him as if she sees right through him. Inside, she feels it - a crack in his bravado, the thin veneer of control beginning to fray.

Slick’s smirk falters. His eyes narrow, just the slightest twitch of discomfort in the corners of his mouth. The silence between them thickens, sharp as a knife’s edge. Erica steps closer, invading his space, enough to make him flinch, though he quickly hides it behind another sneer.

"You don’t scare me." he growls, his voice low and venomous. "You’re out of your league here, lady. This place runs by my rules, not yours. The sooner you figure that out, the better."

Erica’s eyes narrow, lips pressed into a hard line. "Your rules?" she echoes, her tone like ice, slow and deliberate. "Tell me, Slick, how much longer do you think you can keep running this little game before someone bigger comes along? Or before someone snaps and decides they’re done with your bullshit?"

He leans in, his posture suddenly predatory, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Oh, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But guts don’t mean shit if you don’t know when to back off. You think these kids are gonna stand up to me? They’re scared shitless. They know the price of crossing me."

"Stand for something or fall for anything." Her father's voice, low and steady, echoes in her mind. For a moment, it feels as if he’s right there beside her, sleeves rolled up, veinous, muscular forearms showing, the calloused hands that used to hold her steady now clenched in a fist of quiet resolve.

Erica doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. Her expression hardens, cold intensity settling in her voice as she speaks, her gaze like a knife cutting through him.

"Yeah, they’re scared. But fear doesn’t last forever. And neither do bullies like you." She steps closer, her body language a subtle threat. "The kids? They’re watching you. Sooner or later, one of them is going to push back. Because deep down, they know the truth: you don’t have real power. You just prey on people who think they don’t have a choice."

Slick’s smirk fades, his jaw tightening, and for the first time, Erica sees the cracks - his eyes flicker with something darker, more dangerous. But he says nothing. His silence speaks louder than any words.
She takes another step forward, forcing him to feel the weight of her presence.

"And me? I’m not scared of you." she whispers, her voice low and hard. "I’ve dealt with real gangsters. So if you ever so much as look at one of these kids wrong again, I’ll make sure you find out just how far I’ll go to protect them."

The room feels suffocating. The tension thickens, Slick’s lips curl into a sneer, but he doesn’t strike. Instead, he steps back, forcing a chuckle from his chest. He raises his chin, hands still buried in his pockets and finally backs away.

"Whatever you say, lady." he spits, voice dripping with mockery. "But don’t come crying to me when your little initiative falls apart. It’s only a matter of time."

Erica doesn’t move, watching him with a sharp, unwavering gaze as he brushes past her, his presence like a lingering threat in the air. But before he reaches the door, he pauses, glancing back with one last, cold smirk.
"Good luck keeping them in line. You’ll need it."

The door swings shut behind him, leaving Erica standing alone in the silent game room. The adrenaline surges in her veins, but she forces herself to take a slow breath, unclenching her fists.

This isn’t over. Slick is the kind of threat that lingers, festers in the shadows, but Erica has sent her message.


~~~


When she returns to Chloe’s room, the kids are huddled together, a quiet solidarity in the air where there was once only fear. Megan looks up as Erica enters, her eyes full of concern, waiting for answers.

"What did he say?" Megan asks softly.

Erica shakes her head, the weight of the moment settling on her shoulders. "Nothing worth repeating." she mutters, her gaze flicking over to the kids. "But he knows we’re not going to roll over and let him run this place. Not anymore."

The kids exchange glances, a flicker of something in their eyes - hope, tentative but there. Dennis steps forward, voice quiet but filled with a quiet resolve. "We’ll do better." he says. "We’ll stand up. For Chloe, for each other."

Erica nods, her features softening just a fraction. "Good." she says. "Because this isn’t just about Chloe - it’s about all of you. The only way you’re going to take this place back is if you stick together. You’ve got to decide what kind of people you want to be. The kind who let someone like Slick control you? Or the kind who fight for each other?"

Babe wipes her eyes, her voice shaky but strong. "We’re done being scared." she says, looking around at the others. "Right?"

A murmur of agreement ripples through the group, each voice adding to the chorus of defiance. Erica feels a glimmer of hope – still fragile, but growing. They’re not ready to take on Slick and his crew, not yet. But this is a start.

As the kids begin to talk among themselves, Megan approaches Erica, her voice low. "Do you think they’re ready for this?"

Erica sighs, glancing at the group, their soft murmurs filling the space. "They’re starting to believe they can be. And that’s enough for now."

Megan nods, her gaze drifting to Chloe, finally asleep. "What about her?"

"We’ll keep her safe," Erica says firmly. "And we’ll make sure Slick knows this place isn’t his to control anymore. One way or another."

Megan doesn’t reply, but the determination in Erica’s voice speaks volumes. Together, they stand watch over the kids, the weight of the previous night pressing in on them, but beneath it all, a flicker of hope - fragile, but real.
And for Erica, that’s enough to keep fighting.


~~~


Megan stays back in the doorway of Chloe’s room, hesitant. She watches Erica for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. The kids are still gathered in the corner, talking in low murmurs, but Megan can’t shake the feeling that she needs to tell Erica about that other boy, Stoop, and what he confided in her.

The quiet hum of the shelter feels thick, suffocating.
Finally, she takes a breath and steps forward. She clears her throat, her voice a little unsteady when she speaks.
"Miss Sinclair?"

Erica glances up, her blue eyes scanning Megan’s face as she stands in the doorway. There’s a quiet intensity in her gaze, the kind that always makes Megan feel like she’s being sized up. But Erica doesn’t rush her. Instead, she gestures to the empty chair next to her.
"Come in. What’s on your mind?"

Megan walks in slowly, her hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She stops in front of Erica, then hesitates, the words tangled in her throat. There’s no easy way to say this.

"I…I need to tell you something." Megan says, her voice quiet, almost reluctant. "About that boy. Stoop."

Erica raises an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face. This isn’t a name she has heard yet. She leans forward slightly, her attention fully on Megan now. "Go ahead." she says, her tone calm but laced with an undercurrent of something else - something sharp, like she knows this conversation is about to veer into dangerous territory.

Megan swallows, her mind replaying the boy’s words, the tremble in his voice. She can’t ignore it. She won’t.

"He came to me earlier, when you were with Slick in the game room." Megan starts, her eyes darting briefly to the kids in the corner as if checking to see if anyone is listening. They’re all too absorbed in their own conversations to pay attention.
Megan shifts her focus back to Erica, forcing herself to meet her gaze. "He…he said he hears things. Conversations between Slick and Peters." Her voice is just a whisper.

The words hit the air with a quiet, heavy thud. Erica doesn’t react at first, her face still and unreadable, but her posture straightens, her eyes sharpening. She leans in just slightly, her attention now razor-focused.
"What kinds of things?" she asks, her voice low, measured.

Megan hesitates again, the weight of what she’s about to say sinking in. Stoop’s confession had rattled her, but now, in the quiet of the room, it feels more urgent, more dangerous.

"He…he hears them talking about taking things. It sounded like theft or robbery to me." Megan continues, her voice barely a whisper now, like she’s afraid someone else might hear. "Collecting electronics, money and jewelry."

Erica doesn’t interrupt, but her jaw tightens, and Megan watches as her eyes flicker with the weight of the information. She feels a rush of anxiety building in her chest, but she forces herself to keep going.

"He said Slick and his crew go out at night. They bring back...these things. Stuff they’re not supposed to have." Megan swallows, shifting her weight again. "He didn’t understand at first, thought it was just errands for Peters. But now…he knows better."

Erica’s gaze narrows slightly, but she doesn’t break her stare. Instead, she exhales slowly, her lips pressed together in a tight line. The silence between them stretches for a moment, and Megan feels the weight of it - like they’re both standing on the edge of something.

"Did he say anything else?" Erica asks, her voice low but steady, the tension thick in the air.

Megan shakes her head, her throat tight. "He’s scared, I think.”

Erica’s expression hardens, but her voice remains calm. "Did he say anything about how he knows?"

Again, Megan shakes her head. "No. Just that he hears them talking. He’s young, small, unassuming. They think no one’s listening. They don’t seem to notice him."

The words hang in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating them both. Erica doesn’t speak for a moment, and Megan can feel the tension rising between them, thickening with every second that passes. She watches Erica’s face closely, trying to gauge her reaction, but it’s impossible to read.

Finally, Erica breaks the silence. "I’m glad he told you." she says, her voice quieter now, more contemplative. "It took guts for him to speak up and this might be the angle we need to act on."

Megan nods, biting her lip, her heart racing. "Yeah. But… Miss Sinclair?" she says, her voice cracking just a little. "What do we do now?"

[LunaDog]

Erica's comment of 'i've dealt with REAL gangsters' says it all. It appears that Peters is involved, he seems to running some sort of criminal 'racket' here.

[Jenny_S]

Dear @LunaDog, I think after having faced hardened criminals like Tony Maze (in "Shadows of the Past") and the traffickers (in "The Velvet Room"), some pimple-faced guy like Slick doesn't impress, right?
Or maybe Slick decides to put his money where his mouth is.