25. Sofia
CHAPTER 25
Sofia
The first thing I noticed was the pounding in my head, sharp and insistent. The second thing was the floor beneath me—cold, hard. Not my bed at the inn.
I blinked, forcing my eyes open. Everything was blurry at first, swirling in and out of focus. My shoulders ached. I tried to move, but my arms didn’t budge. Shifting, I realized why—my hands were tied behind my back. Thin cord, or maybe a zip tie, bit into my wrists, and every tug sent a fresh wave of pain up my arms.
Where was I?
I dragged my gaze around the room. Empty. The kind of empty that made it clear nobody lived here. There were no pictures on the walls, no furniture, no signs of life. Just bare floors, peeling paint, and a jagged line of shattered glass on the floor near the back door. A cold draft slipped through the hole in the window above the doorknob, making me shiver.
Okay, I was in a house. But whose? And how?
The memory hit me like a slap—the rag over my nose and mouth, the sickly sweet chemical smell. Just thinking about it had the smell coming back to me, and my stomach clenched. Breathing through my mouth, I fought the urge to throw up.
I wriggled my fingers, testing the strength of whatever was binding my wrists. The verdict was not great. Not hopeless, but not great. My feet were free, which was… something. Small mercies.
Turning my forehead so it was resting on the cold floor, I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe through the rising panic.
I needed a plan. Something. Anything. A clue that would help me get out of this.
When I opened my eyes again, I focused on the door with the shattered glass. Whoever brought me here had to break in. That wasn’t comforting. If they’d chosen a vacant house for privacy, did that mean there was no chance someone would find me?
A chill crawled up my spine, and I shifted uncomfortably, the bindings digging into my skin.
And then it hit me—those stupid life hack videos. The ones where people showed you how to escape if your hands were tied behind your back. I’d watched a few out of morbid curiosity, thinking, What are the odds I’ll ever need this?
Well, here I was. Odds beaten. Lucky me.
My mind raced through everything I’d ever scrolled through on social media in the middle of the night, trying to remember something useful.
I rolled my shoulders, testing the slack, trying to remember exactly how the girl in the video had done it. Something about friction. Or twisting. Or… something.
Another wave of nausea rolled through me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. First things first. Get your bearings. Figure out where you are. Figure out who’s here. And then?—
A voice, low and smooth, cut through the quiet. “You’re awake.”
My chest tightened, and I froze at the sound of footsteps behind me.
“You know where you are?”
Familiar. That voice was so familiar. But my brain wasn’t firing fast enough to match the voice to a face. Not yet.
And honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“I asked you a question.” He sounded closer now, and my pulse spiked.
I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze forward instead of craning to look at him. My eyes darted around the room, taking in every inch of it in the dim light—the slightly yellowed walls, the scuffed-up floorboards. The back door that appeared to lead to a screened-in porch.
My stomach churned, a horrible realization creeping in like ice down my spine.
No. No, it couldn’t be.
But it could.
A half-dozen things Hudson had said about the house flashed through my mind. It’s a fixer-upper. Nothing special yet, but it’s got good bones. Needs work, but it’ll be ours when it’s done.
The details I’d brushed off in conversation now painted a picture I couldn’t unsee. A picture of paint that peeled away in chunks, revealing raw wood underneath. Cracked molding, and the missing handles on the kitchen cabinets. Windows that desperately needed to be replaced with energy-efficient new ones.
And… the screened-in porch that he planned to turn into an all-season library—the perfect retreat for the bookworm he loved.
This was Hudson’s house. The one he bought for us .
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the thought would disappear if I pushed hard enough.
It didn’t.
“Well?” The man’s voice cut in again, and the touch of amusement in his voice soured my stomach. “Do you know where you are or not?”
“No,” I said, the lie coming out more shakily than I wanted. “I don’t.”
His footsteps shifted against the floorboards as he circled me, and the second the man stepped into view, my stomach dropped.
“Derrick?” I said, my voice cracking. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. “What… What are you doing?”
He stood there, a patient smile on his lips and his hands casually in his pockets like this was any old conversation. Like we weren’t in my boyfriend’s newly purchased house with shattered glass on the floor and my hands tied behind my back.
“Derrick.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Haven’t gone by that name in forever—until you, that is. My friends—and my enemies—call me Rex.”
Rex. I blinked, trying to connect the dots… but I didn’t have any. I had no frame of reference, and I’d never heard that name?—
Wait. Yes, I had.
Rex was Dane’s cellmate. The one who’d written me a letter once to let me know how good Dane was doing. How good for him I was. My mouth went dry, that realization not helping much because I still didn’t understand the big picture.
Rex crouched in front of me, his eyes gleaming with something dark, something too close to satisfaction. “I loved your letters, by the way. They got me through my time inside like nothing else ever could.”
“My… letters?”
“You’ve been talking to me all along, you know. Writing to me. Sending me pictures. Those letters you sent to Dane? He thought they were his, but he was wrong.”
My stomach twisted violently, nausea threatening to overwhelm me. I forced myself to hold his gaze. “You… you read my letters?”
“Read them?” He laughed, and the sound made my skin crawl. “I memorized them. Every word. Every one of them. You don’t even know what you did, do you? How you saved me? Made me feel like someone finally understood me? Made me feel like I was worth helping?”
“I was writing to Dane.” I tried to inject steel into my voice, but it felt like throwing pebbles at a brick wall.
His smile faded, replaced by something colder. “Yeah, maybe. But it was a waste of time. He didn’t deserve you. Still doesn’t. But me? You helped me. You made me better. Don’t you see? You were made to be mine.”
The room tilted, his words sending my mind spiraling. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, couldn’t process what he was saying. But then he stood, pulling something from the waistband of his jeans, and every thought screeched to a halt.
A gun.
I flinched, and my heart hammered so hard against my ribs that I was sure he could hear it.
“Relax,” he said, as if that were possible. “This isn’t for you.”
“What do you mean?” My voice was barely above a whisper now, but I had to ask. I had to keep him talking.
“He’s coming for you, isn’t he?”
I stilled. “Who?”
I knew who he meant, and he knew I did.
He smiled faintly, shaking his head. “He’s always there. Mr. Hero, the professional hoverer. I tried so many times to get you alone, and when I found out about this place?” He smirked, twirling the gun around the empty room. “It seemed like the easiest way to take him out of the picture for good. I bring you here, he comes to save you because he just can’t help himself… Then, boom . No more Hudson. Just you and me.”
My blood ran cold. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t I?” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer, the smirk falling away. “You think I’m just going to let him have you? No. Not a chance. You didn’t help him. You helped me, and I need you.”
The weight of his words settled on my chest like a boulder, crushing the air out of me. My mind raced, trying to find a way out, a way to stop this. But the only thing I knew for sure was that Hudson couldn’t walk into this house. He couldn’t. Because if he did, Rex wouldn’t hesitate.
And I couldn’t let him get hurt.
But… how could I stop Rex? I couldn’t fight him. I couldn’t run. Well, I could, but my hands were still bound, and he had a gun.
I needed to stall. To buy time.
I swallowed hard. I’d been here before. Not here -here, but in the orbit of someone unpredictable. Thanks to Dane, I’d learned that pushing too hard—or too fast—only made things worse. He might not have been as bad as his cellmate is turning out to be, but I’d still needed to navigate his emotional outbursts, and maybe that would come in handy now.
So… even if Rex wasn’t Dane, the rules still felt the same: cleverly placate—and don’t provoke.
I met Rex’s gaze, trying to keep my expression neutral. Not calm, because calm would come off as fake, but not completely panicked either. “You said that wasn’t for me,” I said, nodding toward the gun. My voice wavered, but I didn’t care. “So… then… what will happen to me? Are you going to… kill me?”
His lips curled into a slow smile, and it took everything I had not to flinch. “Sofia, I owe you my life. Kill you? No. I’m going to keep you.”
I nodded, keeping my tone as steady as I could manage even though I wasn’t sure which of those two options was the lesser of two evils. “Okay. Then… can I at least have some water? Please? My head’s killing me, and I think that stuff you used on the rag messed me up.”
He tilted his head, studying me, and I held my breath.
Come on. Just go.
After a long, excruciating pause, he shrugged. “Fine. I think I’ve got a bottle in the bedroom. But don’t try anything stupid.”
I nodded quickly, the urgency of his response a double-edged sword. “Got it. Nothing stupid.”
Rex stood, sliding the gun back into his waistband as he moved toward the hall. The second he was gone, I snapped into action.
I shifted on the floor, twisting my hands behind my back, feeling the rough edges of the bindings dig into my skin. The life hack videos I’d watched flooded back—pull tight, create friction, use your legs if you have to.
The only problem was… I didn’t have time.
Instead, the only thing I could do was heave myself around, twisting before pulling my legs through the loop of my bound arms. If I had to flee with my wrists tied up, at least they’d be in front.
Not taking the time to bask in that minor success, I scrambled to my feet, my bare toes gripping the cold floorboards. My head spun, the aftereffects of whatever Rex had drugged me with still lingering in my system, but I forced myself to push through it.
The broken glass near the back door glinted under the faint moonlight, but I didn’t pause to think about how much it would hurt to walk through it. I just ran.
Sharp, searing pain hit the soles of my feet as I tore open the door and bolted from the house onto the screened-in porch. I almost stumbled, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Not when every second counted.
The cold air hit me like a slap when I launched myself out of the porch and onto the grass below, stealing my breath. But it also cleared my head, jolting me into sharper focus. The backyard stretched out ahead of me, a patch of overgrown grass and weeds ending at the edge of a dark tree line.
Safety. Maybe.
Just make it to the trees.
I sprinted, ignoring the screaming protests of my feet, my lungs, my entire body. But the grass was slick with frost, and I stumbled, catching myself just before falling flat on my face.
Behind me, I heard a yell. Rex.
I didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. Every instinct screamed at me to run faster, push harder. I was halfway to the trees when my dress snagged on something—maybe a branch, maybe my own injured feet—and I went down.
My bound hands hit the ground first, my face following, and the shock of the fall made stars cross my vision as the wind was knocked out of me.
I scrambled to get up, but it was too late. Heavy footsteps pounded behind me, and then hands—strong, rough—grabbed my arms, yanking me upright.
His fingers dug into my arms, and between the sting from the glass in my feet and the bite of the cold air, I couldn’t breathe.
“Nothing stupid, huh?” Rex growled, his voice low and hard.
I twisted against him, every ounce of adrenaline I had left surging to the surface. “Let me go!”
He hauled me against him, and my legs flailed, the torn hem of my dress tangling around my ankles. But then, as he turned to drag me toward the house, everything shifted.
They appeared out of the darkness like ghosts. Two figures moving with purpose, cutting through the shadows between us and the house behind them. My breath hitched, and I barely managed to hold in a sob.
Hudson. And Tommy.
They’d ditched their suit jackets, but they’d clearly come straight from the ball. I couldn’t imagine how they’d known where to look for me, but I didn’t care. Relief flooded my system in a way that felt like another round of drugs, and all I could think was that I was glad they were here.
But then I registered the way Rex’s entire body tensed behind me, and part of me wasn’t so glad anymore. This was what he’d wanted. What he’d planned for.
I felt the shift in him immediately—his grip on me tightened, and his hand jerked toward his waistband. “Stay back!” he barked, dragging me in front of him like a shield.
I was in the middle of recalling a video about kicking my way out of a hold like this when the cold press of metal against my temple froze me in place. I didn’t move, afraid to so much as breathe.
“Stay right there!” Rex barked, his voice a jagged edge of panic and fury. He tightened his grip on me, dragging me backward. My feet stumbled over the frost-hardened ground, every step sending shocks of pain from the cuts in my soles.
Hudson and Tommy stayed still, their hands at their sides, their eyes locked on Rex like predators waiting for the right moment to strike.
“Let her go,” Hudson said, his voice the perfect blend of cool steel wrapped in fire. He took one measured step forward, and Rex jerked me back harder.
“I swear I’ll do it!” Rex screamed. “I’ll do it! Don’t test me!”
I couldn’t breathe. My entire world narrowed to the gun pressed against my skin, the feel of Rex’s erratic breaths against my neck, and the sound of Hudson’s calm, deliberate voice.
“You don’t want to hurt her, Rex,” Hudson said. “This isn’t about hurting her, right? You love her. It’s me you want to kill.”
Everything inside me wanted to scream in protest, but then my frantic gaze shot to Tommy. He crinkled his eyes in just the right, subtle way that I snapped my mouth shut. That one look was a reminder of who they were—smart. Controlled. The opposite of the man who thought he was running this show.
I needed to trust them… and I would. I just hoped doing so wouldn’t get one of them killed.
“Let her go, and then we can finish this. Just you and me.” Hudson said, holding his hands out.
Why were they unarmed? Oh, right. Because we’d been at the Gingerbread Ball. My cop brother was off-duty, and my Marine boyfriend didn’t carry an M16 in his suit like James Bond.
Lovely.
Rex laughed, high and unhinged. “Finish this? You think I’m stupid? I let her go, and what—you take me out? No way.”
I could see Hudson’s jaw tighten, the muscle feathering beneath his skin, but his voice didn’t waver. “You’re the one with the gun, Rex. Not me. Let her go, and come for me. Unless… you don’t think you’d win a gunfight against an unarmed man?”
I closed my eyes, that taunting question ringing in my ears. “Hudson…”
“Shut up!” Rex’s arm tightened around my chest, his hold suffocating. “I’m not scared to fight you. You’re the one who should be scared. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tommy shift. It was subtle—a step to the side. Rex didn’t notice, but Hudson did. His gaze flicked to Tommy for a split second before returning to Rex.
“Let her go,” Hudson said again. “I’m not going to tell you again.”
Rex shifted, but he didn’t respond. Every second felt like an eternity, stretched taut and ready to snap.
Then it happened. Fast. Faster than I could process.
Hudson lunged forward, closing the distance between us in a blink. Rex’s grip on me loosened as he swung the gun toward Hudson, but Hudson was faster. His hand clamped down on Rex’s wrist, forcing the gun upward as a shot cracked through the night, echoing off the trees.
Tommy was there in an instant, yanking me out of Rex’s hold and pulling me against his chest. My knees buckled, but his arms held me upright. I was vaguely aware of him freeing my hands with deft, shaking fingers, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Hudson.
“You’re okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice low and fierce. “I’ve got you.”
But I wasn’t okay. I struggled against Tommy’s hold for no good reason as Hudson and Rex launched into a brutal struggle. What could I do? I had to do something, but?—
Hudson twisted Rex’s arm behind his back, the gun still clutched in his hand. He made a sharp motion, and there was the unmistakable snap of a bone before Hudson ripped the weapon from Rex’s failing grasp.
Rex roared in frustration and pain, swinging wildly, but Hudson ducked the blow and countered, his fist slamming into Rex’s jaw. Rex stumbled, his balance faltering, but Hudson didn’t stop. Another blow sent him sprawling to the ground in the prone position—lights out.
Tommy’s arms loosened, and I stumbled forward, my legs shaking so badly I almost fell. I didn’t feel the pain in my feet anymore, didn’t notice the cold air on my bare skin. All I could see was Hudson.
He stood over Rex’s crumpled body, his shoulders rising and falling with every ragged breath. His hands were clenched at his sides, one of them bloodied and raw.
He didn’t move until I called his name.
His head snapped up, and his eyes found mine. For a split second, the hard edge in his gaze gave me pause, but then he blinked as if he were snapping out of a bad dream. His whole face softened, then, and he took a small step toward me.
That was all it took.
I ran to him, my arms wrapping around him as I slammed into his chest. He caught me, his arms banding around my back, pulling me so tightly against him it almost hurt. But it was a good kind of hurt. It reminded me I was alive, strong. And thankfully, so was he—on both counts.
His warmth and strength enveloped me, and for the first time since waking up in that horrible house, I felt safe.
“Sofia,” he murmured in my ear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
My throat burned with all the words I wanted to say to him, and my chest ached to let out what I was feeling, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I buried my face against his neck, gripping his white dress shirt with trembling, battered hands as the tears spilled over.
His hand came up, his fingers threading gently through my hair as he pressed his lips against the top of my head. “I’ve got you,” he repeated roughly, like he was holding back just as much as I was. “I’m here.”
I shook my head against him, the sobs breaking free before I could stop them. “I thought—” My voice cracked, and I tried again. “I didn’t want you to come.”
I felt his faint smile against my hair. “Why not?”
“Because he wanted you to.”
We both looked down at Rex then, and I was glad Tommy was standing sentry over him, just in case he woke up.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Hudson said, softer now. “Not ever.”
I looked up at him, my hands still clutching his shirt. His face was bruised, and dirt streaked along his jawline. But his eyes— those hazel eyes I’d fallen for—were breathtaking. Not how they looked, but what they conveyed: Certainty. Love. Safety.
Tipping up on my toes, I pressed my forehead against his, my eyes fluttering closed as his arms tightened around me. For a moment, there was nothing else. No moonlit yard, no cops making their way over to us, no Rex lying still on the cold ground. There was only the still unsteady rhythm of Hudson’s breathing and the way his hold on me felt like he might never let go.