Amelia.

Five years into the future

"Amelia! Dammit, I'm not in the mood for your little games right now. You better come out right now, I swear to God.."

A little girl, no older than 8 years old, crawled out from behind a dark, leather sofa and into the middle of the elegantly decorated living room. Her platinum blonde hair fell well past the middle of her back, her eyes were the color of summer rain; crystal clear and bluer than an afternoon sky.

She seemed guilty, as if she did something wrong. Or perhaps she was merely afraid of the one who had been screaming her name not moments ago. So many emotions were being portrayed across her delicate face, it was difficult to even attempt to read what she was feeling.

"There you are..come on. We have to leave." He muttered, making a few quick strides over to her and picking her delicate body up in his arms. He held her close to his chest, gently kissing her soft forehead.

"I wish you would stop doing that."

"I'm sorry, I was scared." She whispered into his shirt, her blonde curls cascading around his sculpted chest, like a beautiful, golden waterfall.

Any stranger looking into that living room at that given moment in time would believe that this was a loving moment between a father and his precious daughter. That stranger would be sorely mistaken. This little scenario was a rare moment shared between Mark and Amelia. Yes, he did love her. But not in the way that a father loves his daughter. It was better described as an unhealthy obsession; an addiction of sorts. But more about that later.

"CHARLIE!" Mark hollered through the sliding ebony doors that led into the palatial, spacious living room.

Still carrying the child, he strolled out into the hall where he nearly collided with a tall, equally built, Italian, young man.

"There you are. We have go," He stated to the latter, handing him the child, "Here, take her."

"If you simply appealed to their reason, you wouldn't have to risk losing her."

"No! I'm not going to treat her like scum. She's not some worthless, slave girl."

"Mark, the Law says-" the other began calmly, but was interrupted sharply.

"I don't care what it says. She's better than that." He snapped angrily.

"You'll lose her to some creep who will use her for nothing more than a toy or a sex slave. Is that really a risk you're willing to take? You're willing to lose her because you don't want an Elder telling you what to do?"

"I want to protect her. If she becomes a slave, who knows who'll be able to hurt her or take her away from me." Mark replied quietly, grabbing a ring of keys off of a shelf by the door.

"But if you stand up for her...you may lose her as well." Charlie said simply.

"I suppose that's a risk I'm willing to take."