Chapter 25 Sophia
Sophia
Gabriel’s hands were the first thing I felt. Warm, steady, grounding. They cupped the sides of my face—not hard, not soft either. Like he knew I needed to feel the pressure to believe this was real.
“Sophia,” he said. His voice steady enough for me to latch onto.
I couldn’t breathe. Or I was breathing too fast. My ribs squeezed inward, every inhale too shallow, too frantic.
He leaned closer, forehead nearly brushing mine. His voice dropped lower, soothing. “Look at me. You’re okay. I’m right here. With you.”
I forced my eyes to stay open. His filled my vision. Deep blue, with a glint that wasn’t cold like it used to be. Not empty. It was something else now. Like he was more alive than he’d ever been.
“Breathe deep, and slow,” he said. One hand moved to my chest, just over my heart, the other flattening over my stomach. “Here and here. Not up here.”
I tried.
It didn’t work the first time.
I inhaled deeply, slower this time, my breath shaky. Then again. And again.
His hand stayed on my chest like a weight keeping me in place, tethering me to the moment. The other slid up to my neck, thumb tenderly brushing the corner of my jaw.
His face was smeared with blood. It trailed down his temple, dried at the edge of his mouth. But somehow he didn’t look wrecked. He looked alive. Focused. Unshaken.
Strong jaw, dark stubble catching the light. Eyes too intense to hold for long, but impossible to look away from.
“That’s it,” he said, quieter now. “You’re alright. It’s over now.”
My breathing steadied. My hands stopped trembling.
He didn’t move. Just stayed there, keeping the world small, manageable. One breath at a time.
“You did what you had to do,” he said softly. “Say it.”
“I—I did what I had to do.” I muttered weakly.
“Now look at what you did.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, shook my head, buried my face in his chest with an ugly sob.
I felt his strong hands on my shoulders, pushing me back gently. I looked up into his hard, but caring eyes.
“You have to process this now. Right now, or it will follow you and torment you for the rest of your life. Now look.”
I turned my head slowly. The man I shot lay split open on the floor, unmoving in a wide, dark circle of blood.
My stomach turned.
Gabriel’s voice came low and steady beside me. “Your mind wants to protect itself. You can’t let it. Face it, accept it.”
I gripped his shirt. Nodded and looked away.
“No.” He said, gripping me, turning me all the way around. “Look, until you feel nothing. Until what you see is no different than anything else in this room.”
I looked again, felt my stomach twist. He slipped behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his hands on my stomach. He leaned down, whispering in my ear.
“When what you see forces its way back into your mind tomorrow, the next day, and the next, remember this. If you didn’t kill him, it would be me you’re staring at in a circle of blood. So be glad it’s him you’re staring at. Be happy when you remember.”
I swallowed hard. Forced myself to breathe slowly again.
He let me turn around to only see him now.
“He was going to kill you.” I said without realizing.
He gave the smallest nod. “Maybe.”
A soft silence stretched between us. Somehow intimate. Somehow heavier than the blood around us.
He was alive, I was alive.
The world outside us was still chaos. But in that moment, in his arms, it felt like I could handle it.
Because we were both still breathing.
Heavy footsteps echoed off the tile. I turned just as Damien stepped into the room, flanked by two other men—bloodied, bruised, but still standing. He took in the scene quickly, his eyes scanning from the bodies, to me, then to Gabriel.
They gave each other a nod. Then Damien looked at me.
Not with pity. With surprise.
Then respect.
He gave me a nod, faint smirk curling one corner of his mouth. Somehow, he knew.
One man knelt beside Caroline, working on her chain. Another approached me. Moved Sal out of the way with the barest flicker of attention. I didn’t flinch when he grabbed the chain—I just watched, numb.
Caroline was silent, dazed. When the metal finally fell from her ankle, she didn’t speak. Just stood slowly, clutching her own arms.
Mine came off with a quiet click. I didn’t move. I watched all of it like I was outside my body.
As we left the room, I saw the Sinclair estate for what it had become. The hallways were riddled with bullet holes. Blood streaked the walls. Bodies littered the floors in grotesque stillness.
But I didn’t look away.
The horror was still there, yes. But so was something else. These evil men were dead, and Gabriel, Damien, Caroline and I were all alive. All safe.
I stepped over a body, having to leap a little to avoid its blood. My foot slipped on the edge of it, and Gabriel’s hand shot to my waist.
“Careful,” he said, a trace of playful warmth under the gravel in his voice.