Chapter 3
Sophia
I groaned as I twisted in my office chair, staring at the ceiling instead of focusing on the virtual meeting I’d been pulled into. Seriously—what had it been, three hours? This should count as cruel and unusual punishment.
My position at S.H.A.D.E. was a simple one, with little to no detective work and only minor interrogations from time to time. All I had to do was kill rogue agents when they played God—usually men.
And I loved killing men.
Did that make me sexist? Should I aim for more equal-opportunity killing? Most of my executions started with a date, and honestly, it was kind of tragic that I didn’t see more women...
“Sophia—are you even listening?” my mom’s voice echoed through the speakers.
No, I wasn’t. But telling her I’d checked out because she sounded dumb wasn’t a great idea. So instead of saying that, I forced a smile.
“Mhm!” I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. “Just trying to figure a few things out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing for you to figure out. I’ve given you the information. I’ll send you the poison. All you have to do is exterminate Sebastian Castillo.”
And that was what I needed to figure out.
My chair creaked as I sat a little straighter. “I just want to run through a few things—if that’s alright.”
“What’s there to run through? He’s a threat. It’s your job to eliminate him. End of story.”
And that’s where she was wrong.
“You said he’s connected to some Canadian cult—right?”
She nodded twice, not seeming to notice how ridiculous that sounded.
“And, according to what we know about this cult... they kill pregnant women,” I said slowly, hoping she’d pick up on what I was putting down.
But my mom seemed unfazed.
Jesus. She’d met our new baby girl. Did she not remember how babies were made?
Did I need to give her the birds and the bees talk?
I mean, I get it—me and my siblings were mostly test-tube babies.
Char was the only exception, and she came before my moms were officially a thing.
But still, Momma should know where babies come from.
“I hate to burst your bubble—” Actually, I loved it “—but Sebastian had a chance to kill a pregnant woman.”
My voice tightened at the end as I drew in a pained breath through my teeth for emphasis.
“Sophia—what are you getting at?” Her irritation was plain.
“Nothing! Just that he didn’t kill Mason. And he definitely could have.” It wouldn’t have been hard.
My sweet little Honeybee had been miserable during the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Also, she was teeny-tiny, which meant it would’ve taken nothing for Sebastian to overpower her.
“For your information, the cult doesn’t slaughter just any pregnant woman.”
“It’s a little rude of you to call the mother of my child just any pregnant woman.” I gasped, placing a freshly manicured hand to my lips.
Her blue eyes went cold, and I wondered if this was my chance to coo you’re too pretty to be angry—like she used to say when I was a kid. That would've been really funny.
“You are making a joke out of a very serious situation,” she snapped. The edge in her voice was almost enough to make me care—almost being the key word.
So instead of giving her the attention she clearly wanted, I resumed spinning in lazy circles, my gaze drifting around the pastel walls of my office.
“Momma, you’ve hated Sebby since he was a kid,” I drawled, remembering how often she’d beg Mom to quit working for the Castillos. “He’s not exactly the type that screams crazy cultist. I know you’re mad that he quit the organization, but he did his time.”
Lucky son of a gun. My chest hollowed with a sigh.
S.H.A.D.E. operated in the gray areas of the law. All our operatives were wannabe serial killers who got caught—yours truly included.
For each unauthorized kill they uncovered, we got a red tally mark on our files. Each kill meant five years of service to earn our freedom. We could stay longer if we wanted to, but if we left early, our crimes got turned over to the local authorities, and we’d rot in prison.
Which, admittedly, was not the vibe.
Sebby had to serve five years. He served six. I, on the other hand, had only served four out of the required thirty-five. It should have been forty, but so far I’d gotten away with at least one of my murders.
Yay me.
“This isn’t about grudges, Sophia,” she said my name like an insult, which was wild considering she picked it. “It’s about Sebastian’s potential to not only unravel the organization but harm your family.”
“Mmmm, I don’t think he would.” Between Mason and Cameron, Seb lived on a very short leash.
A leash I was dying to hold, if only for a little while, but Momma didn’t need to hear any of my dirty fantasies.
“I’m not doing this with you,” she warned, raking an exasperated hand through her thinning black hair.
“Aww, but Momma, I love talking to you.” I jutted my lower lip into a mock pout.
Her eyes stayed dead and flat. I knew she lacked the capacity to love me, and I wished she would at least learn to fake it. That’s what I did with most people.
“I’m sending over the case files for the Sons of Christ cult,” she said, folding her hands.
“I’ll also highlight the differences between Mason and the women they usually target.
By the end of the day, you either need to send me an email acknowledging you accept the case or outlining your plan for proving Sebastian’s innocence. ”
I parted my lips to challenge her—to ask what she’d do if I said no. If she sent agents after me, they’d die. If she came after Sebby... Well, I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt my new pet.
Hunting me, or anyone I loved, was a waste of resources and, inevitably, a colossal mess.
But before I could say any of that, Momma’s face vanished, replaced by the S.H.A.D.E. logo: a shield wrapped in a snake.
I tipped my head back and groaned. This was not how I wanted to spend my day.
As promised, an email popped up. Begrudgingly, I clicked it.
The file opened in a secure browser, and I almost rolled my eyes at the absurd level of redaction.
Like yeah, this was way below my pay grade, but leaving a name uncensored wouldn’t kill anyone.
I scrolled past the fluff—the lower-level mission briefing, the procedures, the expected timeline, and the guilt-trippy reminder that withholding information could result in federal charges and/or termination.
Cute.
I’d probably do well in prison, so I wasn’t scared.
Then I hit the victim profile.
Primary Targets:
Female, ages 18–26
Dark hair
Thin build
Little to no higher education
No family
Documented history of emotional trauma or dependency
Well. That fit Mason down to the letter. Which was... concerning.
But then I hit the bottom of the profile.
30 weeks pregnant with the prophet’s child at the time of death.
My head tilted slightly as I reread the line.
That didn’t fit Mason. Not right now, at least.
Obviously, she wasn’t getting pregnant anytime soon. She was on birth control, and she just had Rosie. Heck, our sweet girl wasn’t even crawling yet. Masie’s body still needed to recover before she could even think about having another baby.
Plus, the boys were careful with her. Obsessively so. Sebastian, especially. Condoms. Pull-out. The whole nine yards. And if he wanted to kill her... wouldn’t he be trying to get her pregnant?
Something about this wasn’t adding up... and maybe that could be my angle. Sebastian wasn’t acting like a crazy cult member, so he couldn’t be a crazy cult member.
And as long as Mason didn’t get pregnant, everything would be fine.