Chapter 30 Sofia
SOFIA
The day after what felt like the end of my life dawned like any other morning.
But nothing was the same. Nothing would ever be the same again.
I’d betrayed the father of my child, my uncle’s enemy. Coming clean about all my secrets hadn’t been a cathartic and healing experience. I felt as raw and vulnerable, full of shame and guilt, as I did yesterday when I broke down and confessed it all.
All night long, I replayed the memories of how he’d scowled at me and looked at me with such cold anger.
In the morning, as I hunched over the small toilet in the attached bathroom, dealing with morning sickness again, I heard his furious voice in my head.
Any minute now, he’d come shoot me.
The door could open at any second, and he’d order my death.
Moles weren’t granted a second chance.
Spies couldn’t beg for mercy.
That was the cut-throat nature of this world we were stuck in.
Betrayals were paid for with the punishments of pain and death.
But not yours.
I sighed and stood, pressing a hand to my stomach. If I could do anything right, it would be saving this innocent life.
The trays from lunch and dinner sat untouched on the small table next to the bed. Renee had brought them in yesterday, and I almost laughed at the irony. Andre wanted me to be fed when he’d order me to be killed? How rich.
My appetite was nonexistent, anyway. Between the stress and the morning sickness, I couldn’t even try to keep anything down.
My drive faltered, too. Another day of being stuck here felt like torture.
Because I knew how life would be carrying on outside this room I’d been locked into, like a holding cage for a helpless animal about to be executed.
My uncle was still out there, enraged and expecting my loyalty.
My cousin was still out there, weak and dying in pain.
My lover was—
No. Stop.
I pressed the balls of my hands against my eyes and groaned lightly.
Don’t think about him. Just don’t go there. Revisiting the awful experience of seeing his furious, hurt expression would chase me for the rest of my life—which didn’t seem likely to last long.
At the sound of the locks on the door turning, I turned and shook. I trembled, my knees wobbly as I tried to keep a strong posture.
This was it. He was coming to kill me. Or sending someone to execute me.
All those precious moments of submission and intimacy hadn’t mattered to him at all. They couldn’t have if he wouldn’t believe that I chose him over my name, my family, my uncle.
But it wasn’t Andre. Or Oleg.
Anya stood there at the door. She frowned at me and looked me over critically. After licking her lips, she let her shoulders sag. “How could you?” she asked.
“Which part?” I asked. I had no idea what she was told. Only the ugliest truths mattered now. Our friendship wouldn’t weather this storm.
“How could you hide it all for so long?” She stepped into the room, holding up a hand to ward off the two Orlov guards behind her.
“I thought we were friends. I thought…” She furrowed her brow.
“I thought we were becoming friends, and all that time, you couldn’t have told me?
You didn’t see me as an ally to trust and help you? ”
I hung my head, touched that she’d care. Impressed that she’d want to be near me even now. “To help me? A Giovanni—the Orlovs’ rival?”
Andre had explained how estranged she had been for most of her life and how she was still learning and adjusting to the Mafia life. She wasn’t aware of all the intricacies of our politics yet.
She rolled her eyes. “Your uncle. Your uncle is the rival and the enemy. You’re just caught up in this mess.”
“You’re sweet to suggest that, but—”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” she snapped, using that sassy tone that I bet all teenagers had by default. “I’m telling you that you are too sweet to be anyone’s enemy. You care too much to be this ‘bad guy’ about this spying business.”
“How…” I shook my head slightly. “How do you even know any of what went down?” I peered around her. “Did Andre talk to you? Or did he send you here to… harass me?” He hated me, and by default, she should too. I was lost.
“Claire snuck into Mikhail’s office to send a copy of some recording to herself,” she whispered. “Don’t tell.”
I couldn’t help a weak laugh. Don’t tell. Funny. I was sick of “not telling”.
“We heard your confession. All of it. And I’m stung that you didn’t think to tell me or Claire, or even Natalie about how stuck your cousin is and how you were forced here and—” She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head, as if physically stopping her ramble in place. “We need to go.”
My jaw hung open. “What?”
This teenager was trying to break me out?
“We need to go.”
“You mean you need to go? Because your brother will be furious that you’re talking to me and seeming to side with me and—”
“No. We need to go. You had that appointment with the hospice to sign the papers for your cousin. To have her moved in as you planned.”
I blinked rapidly, stunned. “Anya. I don’t think Andre will approve—”
“Then I’ll borrow Roman’s philosophy of it being better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.” She gave me a small smile.
I shook my head, so surprised she’d care. “Anya, no. I refuse to let you put yourself in danger or anything like that on my behalf.”
She rolled her eyes.
Renee strolled up and eyed the two guards, then Anya. She wasn’t impressed.
I instinctively held my hands up. “I’m not doing anything.”
She harumphed. “Of course, you’re not.”
Is that a vote of confidence? Or… what?
“I’m taking Sofia to the hospice.”
Renee’s brows shot up high. “The hospice?”
“For her cousin. For her to sign papers for her cousin, which needs to be done today or else she’ll lose the spot to transfer her there,” Anya explained, unafraid of the intimidating woman.
I loved that she’d stand up for me, but this wasn’t happening. “Anya. Renee. No. I can’t…” I paused and struggled against the nausea. “I’m not going anywhere. I understand my place and that all I’ve done can’t be taken back. I’ve made my bed and I’ll sleep in it and—”
“What’s all these riddles for?” Renee snapped.
“I’m not trying to escape,” I said. I should be, but my plan was to beg Andre to spare our child’s life. I’d do whatever it took to get him to agree.
“You’re not escaping,” Anya said. “You’re coming with me and you’ll come back here to wait for my brother to get his head out of his ass and make up with you.” She beckoned for me to come.
“He’s not. Anya, he’s going to kill me.”
Renee’s brows shot even comically higher. “He what?”
“I lied to him and I was here to—”
Renee dismissed me with a wave. “He’s not killing you. He’s just mad and needs to figure out how to react. He’s a man, Sofia.” She tapped her temple. “That’s how they all are.” She turned a smirking glare to the two guards.
“I beg to differ, but—”
Anya sighed and took my hand. “Differ later. You need to move it to sign those papers.”
I was touched that she’d even remembered that I’d scheduled this for today. I had planned to ask Andre for some means to get there and sign the papers, but in light of all that had happened since I made this appointment, I was thrown way off.
“I can’t just—” I didn’t want to make Andre madder by taking off.
“Come on,” she insisted, tilting her head to the side to get the guards to come with us. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. And you and Andre can talk. If he’s not hungover by then.” She rolled her eyes.
Renee watched us go, the two young guards trailing us.
“Is this…” I turned to face them over my shoulder. “Is this okay?”
They didn’t say anything, seemingly following Anya’s order. They looked young, perhaps new to the force, and I dreaded their being killed for going against orders to keep me here.
What made less sense was how the driver was waiting for us outside. He nodded at Anya, holding the door to the backseat open for us.
In the matter of a minute, I had gone from being a hostage to riding away from the building.
I lagged mentally, confused and barely able to keep up with the changes.
“Anya, this is dangerous.”
“He’ll come around,” she said, frowning as she studied me. “And once he does and things are back to normal, you can’t keep big things like this from me if we’re going to be friends. If you need help, ask. If you’re facing something difficult, tell me.”
Happy tears clung to my lids. “Oh, Anya.” She was the kind of friend and confidante I needed for so long. Esmeralda used to be my ride-or-die like this before she was ill. We were always stuck under our uncle’s rule, but at least we had each other’s back when we could.
Like Anya wanted to with me.
“It’s not that simple.”
She shook her head. “It is. It can be.”
“There is no going back to ‘normal’ after what I’ve done.”
She huffed. “After what you’ve done? You tried and failed to spy for that man.” She arched one brow. “No harm, no foul.”
“No harm, no foul?” I exclaimed, so stunned that a hysterical laugh escaped me. “How can you possibly think that?”
“Because… like Roman says. It’s better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.”
I wasn’t sure how that applied in this context, but she wasn’t in a philosophical mode.
She dove straight into asking questions about how I could pull off getting Esmeralda out of my uncle’s house.
While she didn’t say something stupid like suggesting I ask the Orlov force to help me, she was attentive to my loose ideas of lying to my uncle and making him get out of the house.
“I’ll make up something that would lure him out of the house. ”
“Do any of the guards there want to help? Or would they?”
I winced and shook my head. “Maybe one of the driver’s sons. He cleans the cars and hangs around in the back. He’s all right.”
“Good.” She frowned as we pulled up to the hospice’s parking lot. “I know Andre would help if you could ask him—”
I put my hand on hers. “No, Anya. He wouldn’t.
To trespass on my uncle’s property like that to get Esmeralda out, he’d be causing war.
I can’t—and won’t—ask him to do that.” I narrowed my eyes.
“And seeing how independent you are, you'd better not concoct some hare-brained idea to interfere either.” Glancing at the two guards in the front, connecting with their gazes via the mirror, I eyed them with the hope that they’d agree and see to it that Anya didn’t do anything risky.
We arrived, and there was no time to argue about it any further.
Once we exited the car and walked toward the building, though, there was no time for me to do anything but scream.
A car sped up close, cutting me off from approaching the building. Anya screeched in surprise, jumping back. The young-faced Orlov guards grabbed her, holding her back and out of the way of danger. One had his gun up, but it was already too late.
“No!” I screamed it, hoping someone from the facility would hear. Hoping that someone from the sidewalk, anyone in the city, could be an innocent bystander and become my hero.
Three Giovanni soldiers exited the car and rushed at me. Their suits blurred like shadows on this rainy gray day. They came at me without pause. Using the element of surprise, they gathered around me.
It didn’t matter if I backed up and ran. If I punched and kicked and fought.
I was outnumbered. Captured. And as I tried to scream and buck and get free, they picked me up without breaking much of a sweat and tossed me into the trunk.
It happened so quickly.
I was lagging again.
Too many details shifted so suddenly.
They’d shown up, snatched me right out of the parking lot, and I was gone.
Hugging my arms around my stomach, I blocked my baby from being hit. I rolled. My back smacked against the wall. Like a piece of litter chucked into the trunk, I was tossed around and bruised from the fast ride with too many sharp turns.
One second, I was there with Anya, trying to work on my plan to save my cousin.
The next, I was in the trunk, no doubt headed “home” to face my uncle’s wrath.
Squeezing my eyes tight, I willed the nausea to stop.
I clenched my face, wincing, as I tried to calm my frantic mind.
Deep down, though, I suffered the most in my chest.
Body, mind, and soul.
I feared that I had once again failed—this time, I’d failed Andre in being able to protect his baby he didn’t seem to even want.
I’m sorry, little one.
I’m so sorry.
The car skidded to a rough stop, sending me skidding over the rough surface of the floor. Darkness swallowed me as I waited with bated breath for what would come next.
Hell.
Misery.
Suffering.
Death.
Those were the only likely options that faced me, no matter how stubborn I wanted to stay to fight for my freedom. After all I’d done, there would be no warm and friendly welcome now that I was out of Andre’s home.