Chapter 25 Sophie Choice
(Arlo)
The phone nearly slipped out of my hand when Andrew said her name.
"Rossi called," he said. "He has Berrie and Lyra."
The world narrowed to a single, sickening point. The room dissolved, Andrew's voice blurred, and all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. I leaned back against the wall, fists clenching on instinct, breath coming shallow and uneven.
This was the second time Berrie had been in danger since that snake crawled back into our lives. The thought hollowed me out. I should have protected her better. I should have seen this coming. I should have done a thousand things differently and none of them mattered now.
Rossi had been calm on the phone. He gave us an address, an industrial area, and a deadline. Bring the money. Come alone. No police. He made that part very clear. If we called the cops, he said, we'd regret it.
The moment the call ended, we did it anyway.
The police listened in silence, then moved fast. They said they were already tracking Rossi, that they had eyes on several industrial zones, that this kind of situation required control and patience. The officer used words like procedure, containment, negotiation.
"You need to follow his instructions," he said. "Bring whatever money you have. Don't escalate. We'll intervene at the right moment."
The right moment.
I nodded like I understood, even though all I could think about was Berrie. She must be alone, terrified, maybe already hurt. I told myself not to imagine it. I failed immediately.
Andrew and I scraped together half the money.
Every favor we could call in. Every account we could drain.
Anything that could be turned into cash without questions or paperwork.
Andrew insisted on splitting up, said he'd get the rest and buy us time.
I didn't argue. I didn't argue about anything anymore. There was no energy left for it.
I was shaking as I drove, but also focused, as if my entire body had narrowed down to a single purpose and burned away everything else.
I need to hold her. I need to get her out.
That thought sat heavy in my chest as I pulled up to the address Rossi sent. It was a warehouse. The place looked abandoned from the outside, metal walls streaked with rust, loading doors half-bent like broken teeth. But I could feel the presence and the waiting. They were already watching me.
Two men approached the car the second I stepped out. They searched me thoroughly, wallet, jacket, shoes. They were methodical and practiced. I didn't resist. I didn't speak. I kept my hands visible and my eyes forward, because every second wasted was another second Berrie spent chained.
Rossi appeared like he'd been there the whole time, leaning casually against a metal table, arms crossed, smiling like this was a casual business meeting instead of a nightmare.
"Arlo," he said, looking me over. "You look like shit."
I dropped the bag at his feet. "That's half," I said. "Andrew will bring the rest. He's on his way."
Rossi's smile vanished instantly.
"That's not what we agreed on."
"You want your money," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady even as my pulse thundered in my throat. "You'll get it. Now I want to see Berrie. Then you'll have the rest."
He stepped closer, crowding my space, eyes hard and calculating. "You don't get to tell me how this works." He glanced at his watch.
"If I hear sirens," he continued calmly, "I don't negotiate. I execute."
My stomach dropped. He gave a sharp nod. "Show him."
They led me down a narrow corridor that smelled like rust and damp concrete, my heart pounding so violently I thought I might black out before I even saw her. Then the door opened.
Berrie.
She was chained to the bed, wrists cuffed, eyes wide with terror that punched the air straight out of my lungs. Her hands were shaking so hard the cuffs rattled against the frame. On the other bed, Lyra was crying, shaking, repeating my name like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
"Berrie," I breathed, already moving toward her.
Hands clamped onto my shoulders and yanked me back.
Rossi laughed. "Yeah, not so fast."
I spun on him, rage slicing through the fear. "Let me unchain her."
"You brought money," he said evenly. "Well, part of it. So you get to save one."
For a second, my brain refused to understand the words.
"I'm taking Berrie," I said immediately.
Rossi raised a finger. "Didn't finish."
The room went deathly quiet.
"You save one," he continued, almost cheerful. "The other gets a bullet in the head."
Something inside me shattered. I froze, my thoughts slamming into a wall they couldn't break through.
"That's insane," I said hoarsely. "Why would you kill anyone? Andrew is coming with the rest of the money."
Rossi shrugged. "I'm bored. You gave me half. Now you decide."
Lyra screamed my name, hysterical. "Arlo! I'm pregnant!"
I looked at her. It was true. There was an innocent baby indeed.
Then I looked at Berrie.
My Berrie—chained, terrified, trying so hard not to break, looking at me like I was the last solid thing left in the world.
I remembered her hands on my shoulders, the way she steadied me when I thought I was falling apart.
I remembered her laughter, her patience, the way she always made room for other people's pain.
My hands shook so badly I had to clench them into fists.
"Come on," Rossi said softly. "I know killing sounds hard. But all you have to do is choose."
"Why are you doing this?" I started.
"Choose, Arlo."
"Rossi, you need your money and—"
"CHOOSE."
My chest ached as I struggled to breathe, the room closing in, the air too thin.
"Stop," I begged. "Please."
"CHOOSE NOW," he shouted, "or I will."
I looked at Berrie.
She was crying without a sound, tears spilling as her eyes clung to mine, wide and pleading. Fear lived on her face and it scorched straight through me. I could feel it burning, branding itself into my bones.
Lyra was screaming. At me. At Rossi. Her voice cracked the air open, hysterical and relentless, reminding me she had a baby. A baby waiting for her. She told me I would be a baby killer and that an innocent child's death would sit in my hands, that its blood would follow me for the rest of my life.
And in that moment, something irreversible collapsed inside my chest. I understood with terrifying clarity that no choice I made would save me from what came next. No words could undo it. No mercy would erase it.
Whatever I said and whatever I did, I would walk out of this a different man. I would never be able to wash the weight of that moment off my hands.
Tears spilled down my face.
"I'm so sorry, Berrie," I whispered.