Chapter 23 Sophia
Sophia
Iwoke up to hands on me.
Rough, fast, silent. Two men, maybe three, dragging me off the couch. Big hands clamped tight around my wrists. One shoved my head down, the other grabbed under my arms, and I was moving—barefoot and breathless—across cold floors I couldn’t see in the dark.
“Get off me!” I thrashed uselessly.
They carried me into Caroline’s room. The chain dragged across the floor as they looped it around a bolt embedded in the tile.
I screamed, remembering what almost happened earlier that day.
But they didn’t hurt me, didn’t touch me more than was necessary to get me here.
The door slammed. I was alone again.
No—not alone.
A soft whimper broke the cold silence.
In the far corner of the room, Caroline sat curled against the wall.
Her wrists were bound in front of her, a length of chain linking her to a bolt at the base of the wall. Her knees were pulled to her chest, her head resting against them. She didn’t look up right away.
“What’s happening?” I asked. My voice cracked.
She didn’t answer.
I looked around the room. Dim lamp. Cold tile.
A vanity. An armchair in the corner. Shelves with books and candles.
A delicate curtain hung over the small window, filtering the moonlight into a soft blue.
There was a standing mirror beside the wardrobe, its edges carved with flowers.
The bed frame was dark wood, the blanket folded just so.
Everything matched. Everything had been chosen for her.
This wasn’t a cell.
It was a bedroom. A beautiful one. Designed for comfort. For control.
For her.
I got as close to her as I could. My chain dragged behind me.
“Caroline,” I said again.
She lifted her head slowly. Her eyes were rimmed red. She looked… calm. Not shocked. Not scared. Just quiet.
“You bit him,” she murmured.
I blinked. “What?”
“Ivan,” she said softly. “You bit him.”
I stared at her. “That’s why this is happening? Because I fought back?”
She just looked at me. Her expression was unreadable.
“He’s only doing this because you hurt him. His men must have misunderstood and chained me up too.”
Are you serious?”
She shrugged, like it didn’t matter.
My stomach turned. “You’re still defending him.”
“No one is perfect. He has good in him.”
“He chained you up. You’re literally—” I gestured to her wrists, the metal digging into her skin. “—right now, you’re chained up, Caroline.”
“His men misinterpreted his order.” Her lip puckered out like it was some harmless puppy she was defending.
“How would you even know that? What was the point of him having his men move me in here?”
She didn’t answer.
“You think this is love? He’s a fucking monster.”
She shot her arms sideways, palms up, wide eyes, her chain clattering against the tiles.
“He’s not a monster!”
I let out a breath and leaned against the wall. “You need help.”
“No,” she said, quietly but firm. “You do.”
I didn’t respond right away. I didn’t know how.
She wiped at her eyes. “It’s not what you think. You only see him for what he has to do and be—I see who—”
“I’m done listening to this shit. He hurt me,” I snapped. “He was about to—”
She cut me off sharply. “And why didn’t he?”
I blinked at her. She had known what I was about to say. She had been watching.
“He loves me, so he knew it would be wrong to do that to you.”
I shook my head.
She stared down at her lap. For a moment, she looked like she might break apart. But then she just breathed slow, controlled breaths.
The silence stretched. I shifted against the wall, pulling the chain across the floor so it didn’t cut into my ankle.
“Because I see good in him, he is starting to see it too,” She said suddenly.
I looked at her. “That’s not romantic, that’s delusional.”
She looked away.
“He doesn’t love you, he loves what he can do to you.”
She glanced at the door, like she half-expected him to come back right then and explain everything. Then she reluctantly looked back down at her feet.
“You shouldn’t have bitten him.”
I felt my eye twitch holding her gaze. How could she be so… so wrong but think she is right?
Fuck this.
I stood, gripped the chain and heaved with everything I had. The chain links slipped through my clammy hands. In one swift motion I took my shirt off, wrapped it around the chain, and pulled again.
“It will never work.”
I ignored her, even though it sounded like she spoke from experience.