16. Sophia
SIXTEEN
Sophia
Steam curls up from the espresso machine, mingling with the rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries that fills The Guardian Grind. I wipe down the counter, the steady hum of the café’s activity creating a comforting rhythm. The soft chatter of customers blends with the clinking of cups, offering a soothing backdrop to my thoughts.
“One vanilla latte and a blueberry scone, coming right up.” My voice is cheerful despite the melancholy tugging at my heart.
As I prepare the order, my hands move with practiced ease, and thoughts of how much I’ve come to love this life swirl in my mind. The rhythm of the work, the joy of crafting the perfect cup of coffee, the satisfaction of a customer’s smile, and the sense of belonging among my coworkers—it’s precious to me.
Beneath the surface, constant anxiety lurks, ready to crash down at any moment. I expected only days, maybe a week at most. Instead, I’ve had precious, beautiful weeks of falling in love, becoming part of a family, and finding a sense of belonging I never thought possible.
I’m destined to destroy all of it.
The day progresses as usual. I take orders, steam milk, pull espresso shots, and clear tables. Each interaction is tinged with a bittersweet awareness of its fleeting nature.
Nothing good ever lasts, and I hate that.
Something catches my eye as I approach a recently vacated table to clear the dishes. A manila envelope sits innocuously among the empty cups and crumb-strewn plates. My heart leaps into my throat at the sight of my name scrawled across its surface in harsh yet familiar handwriting.
My hands tremble as I reach for the envelope, quickly pressing it to my chest to conceal it from view. I glance around nervously, but no one pays me any attention. Swiftly, I tuck the envelope into my apron pocket, its weight a ticking time bomb against my hip.
“Sophia? Are you okay?” Jenna’s concerned voice breaks through my panic. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The room spins, making me feel lightheaded and fearful. The envelope burns against my side like a brand, a stark reminder that this beautiful illusion is officially shattered.
“I-I don’t feel well. Do you mind if I take off early?” I force a weak smile, avoiding her gaze, and lean against the table for support.
“Of course not. Go home and rest. I’ve got things covered here.” Jenna’s brow furrows with worry.
Gratitude and guilt war within me as I thank her and hurry out of the café. Instead of heading home, I find a secluded bench in a nearby park. With shaking hands, I open the envelope.
Inside, there’s a flip phone, a small USB drive, and a note that says Call me .
My stomach churns as I power on the phone. There’s only one contact listed—a capital M.
Taking a deep breath, I press the call button. It rings once before a familiar voice answers, sending chills rushing down my spine.
This is it.
The moment I’ve been dreading since that night on the yacht. My heart races as Malfor’s oily, corrosive voice slithers through the line.
“Hello, my dear. I trust you’ve been well? ”
“Yes, sir.” My voice barely rises above a whisper, trembling with fear.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed your little vacation.”
“Yes, sir.” The words slip out automatically, and I cringe, realizing my mistake.
“Yes?” His voice tightens, the sadistic pleasure evident. “I hope you’re not getting too comfortable settling in with the enemy. Did you forget our little arrangement?”
“No, sir. I have not forgotten. Forgive me, I misspoke.” The lie catches in my throat, and its weight sits heavy on my chest.
Memories flood my mind—laughter with Blake during stolen moments, the warmth of his hand in mine, the sense of safety I feel in his presence. Quiet days during the week, sharing stories with Jenna over coffee. Each memory is a dagger, reminding me of the fragile happiness I’ve built, happiness that Malfor is ready to destroy.
“Good.” His voice carries a sharp edge, disbelief lingering beneath the surface. “You have work to do. Don’t forget why you’re there.”
His words wrap around me like a serpent, squeezing the air from my lungs and making it impossible to breathe. My hands shake so violently I nearly drop the phone.
“Do you have access to all the necessary areas?” His dark and menacing laughter crackles through the speaker.
“Yes, sir.” I swallow hard, my mouth dry as sandpaper. “I only need his ID.”
“Very good.” His tone is smooth, almost seductive, sending a shiver down my spine. “Now listen carefully. Go to the server room within the technical building. Call me once you’re inside. I’ll give you further instructions then.”
“Yes, sir.” I pause, not entirely sure of his expectations. My mind races, searching for any way out of this nightmare. “When?”
“Now, you silly fool.” His voice cracks like a whip, the sadistic pleasure in his tone unmistakable.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t have his badge. I’ll have to get it.” My voice cracks. Tears prick at my eyes, but I force them back, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum .
There’s a pause, and in that silence, my thoughts race to Luke—sweet, innocent Luke with his gap-toothed smile and unruly hair—Luke, who depends on me. Before I can stop myself, the words tumble out.
“How... how is Luke doing? May I speak with him, please?”
The moment the question leaves my lips, I regret it. The silence on the other end stretches, heavy and oppressive. Malfor’s anger radiates through the phone like a palpable force. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and dangerous.
“You forget your place. You have no right to make demands of me.”
It wasn’t a demand. I asked nicely. Not that it matters to Malfor. He twists every word into an affront, a personal challenge to his authority. His mind, coiled and ready to strike, sees rebellion in the simplest request and treachery in everyone.
Tears stream down my face as I listen, shame and fear coursing through me. I know better than to ask, but Luke…
God, Luke…
“I’m sorry, sir.” I hate how weak I sound. “I just… I miss him.”
“Miss him?” Malfor’s laugh is cold and mirthless. “How touching. Let me give you some motivation. The sooner you complete your mission, the sooner you can come home. Then we may discuss whether you will or will not see your son.”
I gasp, the air catching painfully in my throat. A sob escapes before I can stop it, tears streaming down my face.
“And, Sophia? I have plans for when you return. Big plans.”
A chill runs down my spine at his words. I think of Jonathan Greaves, of the life I escaped, and horror grips me—there might be worse fates waiting for me.
“Do you understand?” His voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts.
“Yes, sir.” I choke on the words.
“Good. Now stop your sniveling and pull yourself together. You have work to do.”
“I understand.” I hang my head in defeat.
“Excellent. I’ll be waiting for your call. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I won’t. ”
“Good girl.” The mockery drips from his voice like venom . “Until your mission is finished, you will not see Luke. You will not talk to him. You will do nothing but what I tell you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I choke out the words.
“Don’t forget what’s at stake. One wrong move, one hint of betrayal, and Luke will pay the price. It seems as if you’ve forgotten who you belong to?”
“Forgive my impertinence, sir,” I whisper, hating how weak I sound. “I overstepped.”
“Oh, you’ll be forgiven, my dear. Forgiven at the end of my whip.”
“Your whip?” I choke at his words.
“Why yes, my dear. You’ll serve me directly upon your return. Aren’t you excited?”
The world tilts beneath me. Serve Malfor? My mind races with the implications, each possibility worse than the last. I struggle to find my voice, knowing he expects a response. Not returning to Jonathan Greaves should be a relief, but how Malfor speaks fills me with dread.
“You should be grateful.” His voice cuts like a blade, laced with sadistic glee.
“I-I’m honored, sir.” The words taste like ash in my mouth.
“Good girl.” The smirk in his voice is unmistakable, dripping with satisfaction.
“Thank you, sir.” I swallow hard, fighting back tears.
“With all this freedom you’ve enjoyed these past weeks, you’ll need… reeducation upon your return.”
A chill runs down my spine at his words. I think of Jonathan Greaves, the life I escaped, and realize with horror that a worse fate awaits me.
“Thank you for your graciousness in helping me to serve you better. I will atone for everything.”
“Everything?” His voice drips with disdain. “We’ll see about that. Your real test is just beginning. Don’t disappoint me, Sophia. You know what happens when you disappoint me.”
“I won’t disappoint you, sir. I promise.” Fear claws at my throat.
“Excellent, because failure is not an option. ” His voice drips with venom. “I’ll be waiting for your call. ”
The line goes dead, leaving me with the weight of his threats and the magnitude of what I must do. I sink to my knees, overwhelmed by fear and despair. Sobs wrack my body as the full extent of my captivity reveals itself; even in this place I’ve come to think of as home, I am still not free.
Luke’s face swims before my eyes—his trusting gaze, his infectious laugh. Then Blake’s face joins it—his warm smile, the love in his eyes when he looks at me. Two worlds, impossibly far apart, both dependent on my subsequent actions.
I take a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself. With trembling hands, I wipe away my tears. It’s time to destroy everything I’ve come to love. Each step from here leads me further from the life I’ve grown to cherish and closer to a future I can barely bring myself to contemplate.
There’s no choice, not really.
Luke needs me.
That night, I chop vegetables for dinner. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board steadies my thoughts. Blake stands nearby, sipping a glass of water, his presence grounding me in the moment.
“You’re quiet tonight.” He leans against the counter. “Everything okay?”
“Just thinking, that’s all.” I force a smile, focusing on the task at hand.
He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch sending a shiver through me. I linger in the moment, committing the warmth of his hand and the intensity of his gaze to memory.
After dinner, we retire to bed, the familiar comfort of our routine wrapping around us. I sink deep into my submission, seeking the solace and security it brings. Blake’s arms, strong and reassuring, envelop me as we make love—a tender, quiet connection that leaves me aching.
In the darkness, I trace the lines of his face with my fingers, memorizing every angle and detail. He catches my hand and presses a kiss to my palm .
“You sure you’re okay?” Concern fills his voice.
I swallow the lump in my throat and offer a soft smile. “I’m fine. Just… happy to be here with you.”
He holds me close, his breath warm against my skin as sleep takes him. I lie awake, fighting back tears, knowing these moments are limited, that soon, I’ll betray the man who has shown me nothing but love and kindness.
Blake will never forgive me, but at least he’ll be alive to hate me.
But the thought of Luke, alone and scared, steels my resolve. I have no choice.
The next morning, the alarm on my phone vibrates silently under my pillow, rousing me from a fitful sleep. Blake’s arm drapes over my waist, his breath warm on my neck. For a moment, I allow myself to sink into his embrace, savoring the comfort and safety I feel in his arms.
But duty calls, and with it comes a familiar knot of dread in my stomach.
Carefully, I extricate myself from his hold, my movements slow and deliberate to avoid waking him. As I pad over to the dresser, the hardwood floor is cool beneath my bare feet.
I find Blake’s ID badge where he always leaves it. The metal is smooth and innocuous in my hand, but it feels as heavy as lead.
I slip the badge into the pocket of my robe and make my way to the kitchen. As I go through the motions of making coffee, my mind races with the tasks ahead. The invigorating aroma of coffee fills the air, a cruel mockery of the regular morning routine I’ve come to cherish.
By the time Blake stumbles into the kitchen, sleep-rumpled and adorably confused, I’ve hidden his badge in a book on the bookshelf. Guilt churns in my stomach as he searches for his badge. His frustration grows with each passing minute.