Chapter 22 Sophia
Sophia
How could it have all gone so wrong?
I wished I could rewind my life—back to high school, back to the college loans I was too scared to take. Maybe then I wouldn’t be here, with a chain around my ankle, listening to the sickening wet rhythm of Caroline enjoying her captivity.
Footsteps approached—softer than before.
The same man who brought me food and water every day crouched beside me, setting down a tray: a bowl of soup, bread, and a glass of water. He turned to leave.
“Wait,” I said, my voice cracking.
He glanced at me, patient. I stared, unsure why I’d spoken.
“Do you… have a name?” The words tumbled out awkwardly.
He tilted his head, considering. “Salvatore, but you can call me Sal,” he said simply.
Sal. An ordinary name in this place of horrors.
“I’m—” I began, but he shook his head gently, glancing down the hallway before returning his gaze to me.
“You should eat.”
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.
He watched me for a long moment, the heaviness in his eyes almost too much to stare at.
“Not everyone has a choice,” he said quietly.
He sat next to me as if this were simply the way things were.
“When I was young, I was a boxer—not traditional, underground. Bare-fisted. I impressed the Sinclairs, who ran bets on the matches. One day, they asked me to throw a fight. Promised good money.”
“What did you do?” My voice sounded small.
“I threw it,” he said simply. “For about a year, that was my life. Every few months, they’d approach me again—lose another fight, get paid. Then authorities shut the operation down. I escaped the raid, thought I’d have to get a normal job.”
“But they offered you one,” I murmured.
He nodded. “Asked me to join officially. I did.”
“And now you’re trapped, like me.”
“Trapped, yes,” Sal said gently, “but not like you.”
He watched me for a moment, then added, “I got injured right after I became a made man. It took years before I could walk again. During that time… I found God. I keep it to myself. My injury was a blessing—because of it I became useless to them. I can’t run, I can’t fight, so I asked to joined the house staff. ”
He nodded toward the tray.
“Eat,” he said softly. “You’ll need your strength.”
Caroline’s door flew open.
“Out,” Ivan barked as he strode from her room.
Sal shot to his feet and hurried down the hall, obeying without hesitation.
Ivan’s smile was wrong.
He stopped in front of me, gripping my chain roughly.
“It’s time.”
“Time for what?” I asked, unable to hide the tremor in my voice.
He strode toward the window.
“Come,” he commanded, gesturing vaguely as he unlocked the chain and pulled.
I staggered after him, barely keeping my balance. Below, row upon row of black cars lined the driveway. Men—maybe two dozen—were stripping jackets, putting on bulletproof vests. A gun rack was being carried toward them by two big men.
A wave of nausea rolled through me. My hands trembled.
“Gabriel will kill you,” I whispered.
Ivan seemed delighted by my defiance.
“Soon you’ll understand just how hopeless your situation is, and how weak he truly was.”
He turned to me, his face adopting a gentler, more unsettling expression. He dragged the back of his hand down the side of my face.
“Don’t worry, once he’s—”
I snapped forward, sinking my teeth into his hand, punching, clawing at him. He jerked but I clamped down harder. Blood flooded my mouth, thick and metallic. Now was my chance. The chain was unlocked, all his men were in one place.
His knee drove into my stomach. I collapsed onto my hands and knees, gasping for air.
His blood pattered onto the floor in sharp, thick drops.
“You fucking bitch,” he growled, circling me. I heard the slip of leather on leather, the jingle of a belt buckle.
“Remember my two men from the club? Had they succeeded, you wouldn’t have even remembered. But this—this, you’ll never forget.”
I felt his rough hands at my waist. My heart pounded in my ears.
Without warning, his hands stilled, the hard grip weakening—uncertain, almost hesitant.
“Fuck!” he shouted. Straightening abruptly, he paced, running a bloody hand through his hair, slicking one side back flatter than the other. His gaze flickered toward Caroline’s door, like he was worried she might be listening—watching through the crack under the door.
I closed my eyes and heard him locking the chain.
I stayed where I was, eyes closed, breathing hard. Staying still until I was sure he was gone, until the blood dried, until the soup was cold.