40. Sophia
FORTY
SOPHIA
“ Y ou’ll arrive at your destination in two hundred feet,” my GPS announces, its robotic voice jarring against the tense silence in the car.
I ease off the gas, leaning forward to get a better view of what’s ahead. The headlights illuminate an abandoned motel, its overgrown hedges and withered plants clawing at the crumbling facade. Dead trees stand like skeletons in the darkness. My limbs begin to shake as I drive past a flickering VACANCY sign, the letters barely clinging to life. This place is a horror movie come to life.
Only one light glows, casting eerie shadows against the endless dark. My stomach churns. Why would Jenny choose this place?
The answer is immediate, an unwelcome whisper in the back of my mind:
It’s secluded.
I pull into a spot in front of a door I assume leads to the lobby. Shifting the car into park, I grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles whitening. My chest tightens as I stare into the black void ahead, my courage evaporating with every passing second. The weight of Elena’s revelations crashes down on me. I can’t breathe. My breaths come fast and shallow, panic clawing at my chest.
What the hell was I thinking?
I let my anger and desperation lead me here, and now, I’m on the brink of walking straight into God knows what. I’m not a ruthless, fearless psychopath like Maxim. I know what fear is. I am drowning in it.
I press my forehead against the steering wheel, trying to force the shaking in my hands to stop. But my mind spirals further.
This is insane. I’m insane .
The sharp ding of a message tone jolts me, breaking through my spiral. Heart pounding, I fumble for my phone.
I don’t have all night, Sophia.
I exhale sharply, rolling my eyes despite the bile rising in my throat. She’s annoyed? She dragged me here into this nightmare.
Anger flares hot in my veins, temporarily drowning out the fear. Gripping my gun, I shove the door open and step into the suffocating night air. My boots crunch over gravel as I approach the motel entrance, adrenaline propelling me forward.
The moment I step inside, the stench of rotting carpet and stale urine punches me in the face. Gagging, I pinch my nose between my fingers, but it doesn’t help. Breathing through my mouth only leaves a foul bitterness coating my tongue.
The lobby is a wasteland. Paint peels in jagged strips from the walls, revealing water-damaged drywall. Broken windows cast jagged shadows, and empty beer cans and liquor bottles litter the floor.
A faint scratching noise comes from behind one of the walls, a sickening, animalistic sound that freezes me in place. I don’t want to know what’s making it. My pulse spikes, and I force myself to move, weaving through the debris toward the faint sound of pained groans.
Maxim.
I sprint toward the noise, my heart pounding as I reach a door barely hanging on its hinges. It’s blackened and splintered, the paint chipping away like dead skin.
Taking a deep breath, I pull my gun from my waistband and point it with trembling hands. My palm is slick with sweat, making the grip slippery. I press my other hand to the doorknob, twisting it, but it won’t budge.
“Dammit,” I mutter, wiping my hand on my shirt. I try again, this time managing to pull the door open. The hinges groan, the sound loud and grating, sending a shiver through me.
The room is cavernous and suffocatingly dark, save for a single spotlight dangling from the ceiling. It casts a circle of harsh, flickering light on two figures in the center. Maxim is tied to a chair, blood dripping from a cut on his temple. Luca lies crumpled on the floor, unconscious.
I take a shaky step forward, squinting at Luca’s chest until I see the faint rise and fall of his breathing. Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived.
Maxim’s stormy blue eyes lock onto mine, burning with intensity. His face twists in fury as he struggles against the ropes binding him to the chair. The tape over his mouth muffles his curses, but I can tell exactly what he’s thinking.
Why the hell are you here, Sophia? You’re insane.
I bite back the urge to scream at him. Don’t give me that look . He’s not the one holding a gun with shaking hands, walking into God knows what.
I take another step forward, scanning the room. My hand tightens around the gun as I prepare to free him. Maxim’s muffled words grow more frantic, but I can’t make them out.
I force myself to ignore the panic rising again, stepping fully into the room.
“Took you long enough,” Jenny’s voice cuts through the darkness, making me jump. I was so focused on Maxim, I didn’t even realize anyone else was in the room.
That’s how you’re going to get yourself killed, Sophia. Pay attention.
I whirl around, heart pounding, bracing myself to face my sister. But there’s no one there—just shadows and an oppressive silence.
Where the hell is she?
I didn’t imagine her voice. I know I didn’t. Spinning in a slow circle, I search the room for any sign of movement. A sharp, mocking laugh echoes from my left. I snap in that direction, expecting to see her emerge from the darkness.
Nothing.
My muscles tense, coiling like a spring, ready to snap.
“What fucking games are you playing, Jennifer?” I scream into the room, my voice trembling with frustration and anger.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her voice floats from my right this time, taunting me, but I don’t turn. I’m done chasing shadows.
I pull the gun from my waistband and extend it in front of me, my back pressing against the wall. My breath is shallow, adrenaline sharpening my focus as my eyes dart around the room.
“Let us go, Jennifer. We can forget about all of this—never speak of it again,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me.
“Here I thought my dear half-sister was too much of a little bitch to stand up for herself.”
The words hit me like a slap. Half-sister?
Behind me, Maxim thrashes against his restraints, the wooden legs of his chair scraping and slamming against the floor. The sound jolts me, but it’s her words that reverberate in my skull, freezing me.
“What do you mean, half-sister?” I demand, my voice sharp and edged with panic.
But she doesn’t answer.
Seconds stretch into eternity, and I’m about to scream the question again when the sound of heels clicking against the floor draws my attention.
To my left.
I pivot, gun still raised, aiming toward the noise. My pulse thunders in my ears as her silhouette emerges from the shadows.
“Put the gun down, Sophia,” she says, her tone dripping with mockery. “You’re a pacifist. You’re not going to do shit with that thing except hurt yourself.”
Something inside me snaps.
My finger presses the trigger, and a deafening crack fills the room. The bullet embeds itself in the floor, inches from her feet.
Jenny stops in her tracks, her lips curling into a slow, condescending smile. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she begins to clap—a slow, mocking applause that makes my skin crawl.
“Look at you,” she sneers, her voice laced with amusement. “Someone’s grown some balls. I’m proud of you, mi media hermana.” She emphasizes “half” like it’s a weapon meant to wound.
She steps closer, and Maxim thrashes harder, his muffled screams rising in urgency. Jenny glances at him, her smile widening.
“Someone’s a little protective, isn’t he?” she muses.
I move with her, matching her step for step, refusing to let her close the distance to Maxim.
“Why are we here, Jenny? And what the hell do you mean by half-sister?” I demand again, lowering the gun slightly in a gesture of restraint. I don’t want a fight—I want answers.
Jenny smirks, tilting her head as if weighing her options. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re not the only protective one,” she says in a singsong voice, glancing over her shoulder at Maxim. “Right, little brother?”
My stomach drops.
I whip my head toward Maxim, whose expression mirrors the storm of confusion crashing inside me. His blue eyes narrow, the question burning in his gaze the same as the one now roaring in my mind.
Little brother?
My thoughts scatter. Nausea churns violently in my stomach as I piece together her words. No. No, that can’t be. He can’t be my brother. She called me half-sister, meaning Maxim is her brother—not mine.
But the panic doesn’t fade.
My free hand instinctively moves to my belly, brushing against it. The movement is subtle and subconscious, but it’s enough.
Maxim’s entire body goes still, his piercing gaze locking onto the gesture. His eyes ignite, molten blue fire scorching into me as realization dawns in them.
Shit.
I shake my head slightly, pleading with him silently. Not now. Not here. We’ll talk later. I promise.
His expression hardens, his eyes narrowing in silent refusal. There’s no way he’s letting this go.
I swallow the rising lump in my throat, guilt clawing at me. You were going to tell him, Sophia . Eventually, but deep down, I know I’ve been putting it off for nearly two months, too afraid of his reaction, too afraid of the storm already surrounding us.
Focus.
This isn’t the time or place. Maxim’s anger is a fire I’ll have to face later. For now, I need to get us out of here alive.
Maxim grunts in pain, snapping me out of my daze. Jenny is gripping his chin, her nails digging into his skin.
Shit. That’s exactly what I was trying to avoid.
I was so lost in my head, I didn’t even notice when she moved.
“I’ve been waiting a very long time for this, Maxim,” she sneers, slapping him hard across the face. The sharp crack echoes in the room.
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” I scream, my throat straining with the force of it. My voice breaks, sending me into a coughing fit, but Jenny’s only reaction is a smug smile.
I take a step forward, intent on reaching her, unsure of what I’ll do when I get there—but I’ll do something. Dying by my gun would be too easy for her. I need to feel her life leave her body with my own hands.
Wow, Sophia. That’s dark. You’re crossing a line.
I don’t care. She has been playing us like chess pieces for months, tormenting me for years. I’m done. The only way to stop her is to end this, to end her.
Hands wrap around my waist, jerking me back before I can take another step. “Let me go!” I scream, kicking and thrashing, but the grip only tightens. From the corner of my eye, I see Maxim struggling harder, the ropes cutting into his skin, red seeping through with every pull.
“Tie her up,” Jenny orders calmly.
I’m dragged back and forced into a chair, my arms wrenched behind me. The ropes bite into my skin, and my chest tightens as panic claws at my throat. My mind flashes back to that dark place, those endless nights of being tied up, helpless.
Breathe, Sophia. You’re not there. This is different. You’ll make it out of this.
The feeling of Maxim’s gaze burning into me helps pull me out of the spiral. I open my eyes, turning to him.
“I’m okay,” I mouth.
But the fear in his eyes doesn’t waver. His jaw clenches, his body taut with barely restrained fury.
The screech of a chair being dragged across the floor cuts through the tension. Jenny pulls it into the center of the room, stopping directly in front of us. I roll my eyes at her theatrics. She’s trying to unnerve us, but it’s not going to work.
“Why are we here?” I ask, my voice steady despite the chaos around us.
Jenny doesn’t answer me. Instead, she reaches over and rips the tape from Maxim’s mouth.
“I want what rightfully belongs to me,” she says, her voice cold and clipped. “As the eldest offspring of Isaak Volkov.”
Maxim barks out a harsh laugh, his lip curling in disdain. “You want to rule a mafia empire that sees women like you as nothing more than a piece of ass?” He shakes his head, the derision in his tone cutting. “The moment you try to act like a boss, they’ll put a bullet between your eyes, Jennifer.”
Jenny leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, an odd expression flickering across her face. For a moment, I think she’ll lash out, but she doesn’t. She just watches him, letting him continue.
“The second you tell them what to do, they’ll laugh in your face,” Maxim presses, his voice sharp. “You may claim to be my father’s daughter, but that means shit to them. You’re nothing to them, Jenny.”
“Oh, Maxim, Maxim, Maxim,” she says, shaking her head with a mocking smile, as if he’s a foolish child.
“Most of your men already belong to me,” she says casually, her voice dripping with venom. “They’ve been taking orders from me since our father died.”
My head jerks back, my eyes widening in shock. I glance at Maxim, hoping for some denial, some reassurance she’s lying.
He scoffs, his expression hardening. “You’re a lot of things, Jenny, but I never thought delusional was one of them.”
Jenny crosses her legs, the picture of calm confidence. “Dear brother, the only one delusional here is you.”
Maxim’s posture stiffens, his jaw tightening further. He’s trying to maintain control, but I can see the cracks forming in his calm facade.
“Enlighten me,” he says, his voice low, dangerously calm.
Jenny smirks, leaning back in her chair. “The older generation of the Bratva—the ones who’ve been part of this world since our father became pakhan—no longer believe you’re fit to lead.” She pauses, tapping a manicured nail against her chin, pretending to search for the right word. “They think you’re…too soft to take his place.”
Maxim doesn’t flinch, but the air around him changes, his stillness more threatening than any outburst could be.
“They don’t want the business to go legit, Maxim,” Jenny continues, her tone growing sharper. “They want to stay underground, in the dark, where the real money is. And that’s where you’ve failed them.”
She leans forward again, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “You’re trying to turn the Bratva into something it was never meant to be. But me? I understand what they want. What they need. And I’ve already given it to them.”