Chapter 30
Sophia
Two weeks later…
“One iced White Chocolate Mocha for Sophia!” A tall barista called from behind the counter.
My ears perked up at the sound of my name, and I happily skipped through the crowd of people filling the cafè. Where Have You Bean was nowhere near as good as Loaves of Love, but coffee was coffee, and after my last work trip, MAN did I need caffeine.
As I closed in on the counter, I began to scan the worker for some form of name tag. On the front of his brown apron was a large white plastic square.
“Thank you, Alex,” I smiled, my fingers grazing his as I took the cup.
Instantly, the man froze, and I looked at him a little better.
Alex was older, maybe Cameron’s age, with black hair and a well-manicured beard. Flecks of gray dotted both, and my nose wrinkled. Thankfully, Cameron’s red hair made him immune to that.
Not that silver foxes weren’t hot as heck, but I wasn’t at a stage in my life where I could have a graying partner.
Not when I was this young and pretty.
“Have a nice evening.” His dark eyes roamed over me as he spoke.
Ew, he was totally checking me out. Not that I could blame him, you know, with—
Alex’s smile fell the second he looked at my hands, and he pulled away from me.
I tried not to seem offended as I took my coffee, lifting it high and pretending to examine it; in reality, I only cared about my nails.
Momma had sent me on a mission, seeing as I wasn’t making any progress with Seb. You know, because there was no progress to make, because Sebby wasn’t dangerous.
But, I digress.
For the first time in God knows how long, I had to have bare nails. Something about going undercover, but it really just seemed like a way for her to kill my vibe.
And, of course, for the first time, I had my victim's blood caked under my all too short nails.
My lips pulled into a thin grimace as I once again thanked Alex before speeding off into the parking lot and hopping into the car.
I set the mocha in my cupholder and pulled out of the parking lot, humming along to whatever bubblegum pop song came on the radio. I wasn’t even listening, really. My mind was busy replaying Alex’s face when he saw my nails. Men always notice the wrong thing.
It didn’t matter. By the time I pulled into Sebby’s driveway, the caffeine had seeped into my bloodstream and my mood had brightened once again. My heels clicked across the front steps, and I slipped inside like I owned the place.
All the lights were off, letting what remained of the sun flood through the open blinds.
“Guys?” I called, my voice echoing off the foyer.
Somewhere deep in the house, Lucian groaned. That was the only sign of life I needed from him. When I left for my trip, he was still in withdrawal hell.
Two weeks later, and the groan sounded… clearer. Less like a dying animal, more like a cranky old man forced out of bed—good for him, I guess.
But I wasn’t really concerned with his sobriety, not this time. Right now, it was kind of a boring side plot. You know, when compared to Mason leaving, and the kids, and the entire Sebby not telling me who the heck he murdered, even though I really wanted to know.
I kicked my heels off and placed them neatly next to the unruly mound of boy shoes. I knew they were all in the throes of some shade of depression, but the least they could do was clean up after themselves.
“Cameron?” I called, cupping my hands around my mouth.
Nothing.
But that also made sense. He was the only person in this house allowed around the kids, for now. And seeing as Mason was out-of-town doing whatever celebrities do in California, Cam was probably suffering through Leona’s misplaced anger for the good of the children.
Slowly, I stalked along the wooden floors like a cat trying to sneak up on their favorite toy. The living room lights were out, but the light of the TV painted everything in a blue and white glow.
My eyes widened with enthusiasm as I peered around the corner to see Sebby’s long frame splayed across the couch, no shirt, messy hair, looking half dead to the world.
The bags under his eyes looked large enough to carry a vacation's worth of luggage. Maybe there was something wrong with me, but I kind of liked when my men looked unkempt and maybe a bit sick.
Sebby looked like the kind of mess you wanted to poke at and see what lies underneath.
His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven breaths, and for a moment, I thought he’d passed out completely.
But then Mason’s voice drifted from the television, not her normal one, but the one she used for the public.
She’d lighten her accent and brighten her tone. She called it speaking clearly; I called it her customer service voice.
Mason's chin was tipped to the side as her lips pulled into a tight smile, the kind that didn’t show her teeth. This whole fake person was tied together with too much makeup and an almost ethereal black dress.
Creases formed along my nose as I took in the silver quarter of her hair, dyed into her bangs directly above her brown eye.
“What did they do to her hair?” I scoffed, causing Sebastian to jump.
He placed a hand over his exposed chest, and that’s when I noticed he’d polished his nails while I was gone. Nothing dramatic, just the same shiny black Lucian often did.
“Why are you here?” he asked, clicking off the TV as if I’d caught him watching porn in the living room.
“Well, until we convince Mason we’re not murderers and that she should come home, I live here too.” I shrugged, taking a seat down by his feet.
“But we are murderers,” Sebastian hissed, sitting up, coming almost nose to nose with me. “I worked for S.H.A.D.E., you worked for S.H.A.D.E., and killing is in the contract.”
“Work,” I corrected.
“What?”
“You said worked, but I work for S.H.A.D.E. and probably will for the rest of my life.” I added a What can you do? shrug for good measure.
Sebastian seemed to pale at my comment, which only furthered fueled my fricked-up lady boner. Man, I wished he’d just let me peg him.
“Also, who did you kill? I still need to know.” My fingers shifted to aimlessly trying to claw the dried blood from underneath my nail beds.
His jaw set into a harsh angle.
“Okay, I know, I know, but before S.H.A.D.E., I killed eight.” One of which I got away with. But, he didn’t need to know that. “And, since you won't tell me your measly one, can I at least know why you did it?”
“Fine,” he breathed, crossing his arms. “I did it to protect someone I cared about.”
“Ooooh!” I stopped picking at my nails to clap my hands. “I did that once, too! Who were you protecting?”
He stared at me with a deadpanned look, then, after a beat, his cheeks puffed with a breath as he rubbed his temple and adjusted his glasses.
“Fine,” he mumbled, still shaking his head. “but–I want to know who you were protecting. So, I’m going to count down from three, and we’ll say it at the same time. Okay?”
I nodded, practically vibrating with excitement. Not only was I going to get to know more about who Sebby killed, but I was also going to learn more about him. This meant we were one step closer to dating and not just screwing, and that was a win in my book.
We were bonding in a way few others could.
He held up three polished fingers and made a show of counting down, and by the time he got to one, I was more than ready.
What I wasn’t prepared for was for our words to echo off each other.
“Mason.”
“Mason.”
His eyes widened and fell to the floor, and my heart stuttered. Was he lying to me? No, this was a weird thing to lie about.
“... Did you kill her dad?” I asked before realizing that the timeline didn’t add up.
Plus, Seb wasn’t in France to drug James or cut his brakes. But that knowledge only furthered my confusion.
Sebastian’s jaw dropped.
“No, I did not. Thank you for that vote of confidence, though,” he scoffed.
I opened my mouth to press him a little more because hello, how many people could have been after one little Mason? But, before I could, Sebastian got up and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like I’m not high enough to deal with this shit.
“Wait!” I hopped off the couch and held up my hands. “Can you help me get the blood out from under my nails? I’m not used to—“ He turned over his shoulder to look at me. I quickly mimed stabbing someone. “But I know you—“
He froze mid-step as his eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
I shoved my fingers toward him. “I scrubbed, okay? Twice. But it’s stuck in there, like, way up there. I usually use poison so I don't have to deal with strangers' blood sticking to me, and I feel dirty.”
His face drained of color like I’d asked him to suck it off my fingers. “Jesus Christ, Sophia, don’t just say that out loud.”
“What, that I’m covered in a stranger's blood?”
“Yes, that you’re covered in a stranger's blood!” His voice cracked as he stomped toward me. “Do you want Lucian to hear you?”
I blinked at him, confused. “It’s just blood.”
Sebastian seized my wrist before dragging me to the hallway.
“Bathroom. Now,” he ordered.
“Uh, no.” I stopped and tried to tug myself free. “Also—I don’t like when men tell me what to do.”
I hated men.
“Shut up.” His grip tightened as he hauled me into the bathroom and flipped on the overhead light. “You’re not walking around with blood under your nails. The last thing we need is for Mason to finally forgive us, come home, and see that you still kill people.”
“I feel like people is a strong word.” I killed misbehaving agents, and by that point, they were little more than animals with rights.
So it was like hunting, except I didn’t have to wear camo.
“Oh, my God. You have to be my divine punishment for everything bad I’ve done,” he groaned, twisting the faucet.
My eyes narrowed to slits.
Hot water filled the sink as he ducked down and grabbed a bristle brush and a bar of yellow soap from the cabinet.
“Give me your hand.” He gestured for me to do as such.
And despite me still not liking that he bossed me around… I did as he said because he was right. If Mason saw blood under my nails, she’d get sad, and I’d have to look into legal kidnapping. But I wanted her to love me for me, and not because I’d locked her in my basement.
I gave him my hand, and his thumb braced my wrist as he worked the brush into the nail beds with brisk, practiced strokes. The bristles bit at the sensitive skin, making me hiss.
“Hold still,” he murmured.
I winced as he continued to scrub. He then took a deep breath and continued more gently than before.
It was almost cute.
“Aw, Sebby. If you keep that up, I might think you like me,” I teased, using my free hand to pinch his cheek.
He huffed but didn’t react further than that.
When he rinsed the soap away, the blood was gone. My nails were completely spotless, and I felt a little loved from the gesture.
I wiggled my fingers and grinned, holding them up so he could see how good of a job he did. “Best. Boyfriend. Ever.”
“I’m not your boyfriend,” he grumbled.
“Not yet!”
Sebastian didn’t dignify me with a response, and he also turned the lights off and shut the door, effectively locking me in the bathroom. Which was rude.
But, luckily for him, I didn’t mind, and I had fresh evidence to prove to Momma that Sebastian wasn’t a danger to anyone or anything.
Usually, our meetings happened over video call, the way all meetings should. But since I was in town, I figured I’d stop by and visit both of my moms.
Just as I expected, when I stepped into my childhood home, Mom immediately told me Momma was in her office and that I should go say hi.
Normally I’d argue, but Mom was in the middle of making chocolate chip cookies, and I wasn’t about to risk my place in line for the first batch out of the oven. I could circle back after my meeting and grab one then.
The hallway to Momma’s office always felt colder than the rest of the house, and it fit. Momma never really matched the warmth of everything else here. I smoothed my skirt, squared my shoulders, and knocked once before pushing the door open.
She didn’t look up, leaving me with a perfect view of her side profile, the one we shared. Her black hair was pulled into a low bun, her fingers flying across the keyboard like she was conducting some silent symphony.
“Sit,” she said, sharp and simple, like I was a dog.
Instead of arguing, I sat.
For a minute, I tried to mimic her, back straight, chin up, hands folded neatly in my lap. But my foot started tapping, my fingers twitching, and within seconds I was leaning back in the chair, slouching like myself again.
“Speak.” Finally, she stopped typing to look at me.
“Sebastian isn’t a crazy cultist!” Everything smart I had planned vanished, because that’s what it all boiled down to.
Her frown deepened, so I rushed ahead. He hadn’t gone back to Hartwood once since we pulled him out.
Cult members didn’t just leave their cults.
He was too gentle when he cleaned my hands.
If he wanted to hurt me, he could’ve. And more than that, he looked appalled by blood, by killing.
That used to never bother him, but now? He was a changed, non-threatening man.
But Momma didn’t even blink. When I ran out of words, she folded her hands neatly on the desk.
“No matter what you think you’ve seen, I have someone else in Hartwood feeding me real evidence,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact.
My stomach flipped. “You–what?”
The corner of her mouth twitched like she was amused. “You didn’t think I’d let you be the only agent investigating, did you?”
“I…” My lips pressed off to the side. “Well, yeah. I kinda did.”
Momma shook her head, leaning back in her chair like the conversation was already over.
“Sophia, I’m letting you play detective because I love you. But nothing you’ve found so far outshines the evidence stacking up against Sebastian.”
My fists clenched, but I hid the anger with a smile. She thought she’d just shut me down. But really? She’d handed me exactly what I needed.
Now I knew there was another agent. All I had to do was find them, scare the life out of them, and make sure they left Sebby alone.
The only problem? I had no idea who the heck they were.