18. Sophia
EIGHTEEN
Sophia
Blake’s broad shoulders retreat into the distance, each step tearing a piece of my heart away. My chest tightens painfully, the weight of what I’m about to do crushing me from within.
How can I possibly let go of this amazing, virile man who has been my strength, my protector? The thought of never feeling his touch again, never hearing his voice, rips through me like a knife. I’m going to miss him so much it physically hurts.
As soon as he disappears, I reach into my pocket, fingers closing around his badge. My steps are quick and purposeful as I change direction, heading not toward the café but to the technical building.
The flip phone Malfor gave me feels like a lead weight in my hand. I dial with trembling fingers.
“What?” His voice, cold and irritated, grates against my ear.
“There’s a problem.” I force the words out. “The badge. It’ll be deactivated as soon as Blake gets a replacement.”
A string of curses crackles through the line, followed by a long pause. Then Malfor’s oily voice slithers toward me again. “Did those idiots give you a badge?”
“Yes, sir. Everyone has one. ”
“Good. We’ll clone it. Now, listen carefully. Do exactly as I say. First thing, get to the tech building. Call me the moment you’re inside.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod, forgetting he can’t see me.
The line goes dead. I swallow hard, pocketing the phone and quickening my pace.
Guardian HQ sprawls before me, a maze of buildings separated by manicured lawns, walking paths, and the ever-present golf carts as people move around.
The technical center looms ahead, all glass and steel, familiar yet suddenly foreboding. My steps falter as I approach the entrance, my heart pounding against my ribs.
I reach for Blake’s badge, then freeze. The weight of my own badge around my neck is a glaring reminder of my deception. Sweat beads on my forehead as I push Blake’s stolen badge deeper into my pocket. The cold metal against my flushed skin sends a shiver through me, amplifying the guilt that gnaws at my insides.
Two guards flank the entrance, their postures alert despite the early hour. I force a smile, praying they can’t hear the frantic beating of my heart.
“Morning, Sophia,” the taller guard greets me, his smile genuine.
“Hey,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. “How’s it going?”
“Going great,” he replies. His partner nods in agreement. “Love The Guardian Grind, by the way. Best coffee on the planet.”
“Oh, thanks so much.” The words taste like ash in my mouth.
The shorter guard tilts his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Aren’t you working at the Grind today?”
My stomach lurches. “Oh, no,” I lie, the words tumbling out. “Mitzy’s giving me another tour. I’m supposed to meet her inside.”
“Do you know where you’re going?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.
I offer a quick smile, perhaps too quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I know where I’m going. Don’t worry about me.”
They wave me through, and I swipe my badge with trembling fingers. Green light. I’m in .
The interior hums with technology. Fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows, making the corridors seem longer and more ominous. I walk quickly, head down, avoiding eye contact with the few early workers I pass.
Finding an empty corridor, I duck into a small alcove. My fingers fumble as I pull out the flip phone, blood rushing in my ears.
One call and there’s no going back.
I dial, each beep echoing in the empty hallway.
“I’m in,” I whisper as soon as the line connects. “But I’m not sure where to go. What am I looking for?”
“The server room, you idiot.” Malfor’s irritation crackles through the phone. “Tall black cabinets, lots of blinking lights. Probably cold. Mitzy never showed you?”
“She did, but there are so many divisions…” I trail off, remembering the tours through cryptology, robotics, and virtual reality.
“It’ll be labeled ‘Server Room’ or ‘Data Center,’” Malfor snaps. “Hurry up.”
“Okay, I think I know where you’re talking about.”
Pocketing the phone, I step out of the alcove. The hallway stretches before me, suddenly alien and threatening. I move quickly, trying to look purposeful.
A group of techs rounds the corner. I duck my head, veering to the side. Their chatter fades as they pass, oblivious to my presence.
I pass the robotics lab, glancing through the glass at half-assembled machines. My eyes linger, remembering Mitzy’s swarm of bumblebee drones inside. She was always going on about how no one cares about bugs, how they can slip in and out of places unnoticed.
I never fully understood how they stayed powered up or what all they could do, but the thought crosses my mind—if no one notices bugs, maybe Malfor won’t either.
Maybe, just maybe, one of those tiny drones could be a lifeline back to Guardian HRS… If they still want me after what I’m about to do.
I slow my pace, looking to see if anyone’s inside. The lab is empty. My heart pounds as I push the door open and step inside, the soft hum of machinery the only sound in the room. I scan the room, trying to remember where Mitzy kept the hive.
There. In the far corner, nestled between a pile of parts and a stack of manuals, I spot the small, inconspicuous container. I move quickly, hands shaking as I open it and carefully take one of the tiny drones. It’s lighter than I expected, barely more than a speck in my hand.
I slip it deep into my pocket, the cold metal barely noticeable against my skin. With one last glance, I exit the lab, hoping this tiny piece of tech might be the lifeline I desperately need.
My pulse races as I slip out of the Robotics lab. I head down the corridor, and just a few steps later, I reach the VR suite.
The large glass windows offer a view of the darkened room, the equipment still and silent, but memories rush back, vivid and overwhelming.
My eyes are drawn to the center of the room, where the VR rigs stand like sentinels of the digital age. Headsets dangle from ceiling-mounted harnesses, their visors dark and waiting. Below each headset is the real marvel—the omnidirectional treadmill. It’s not the linear track I’m used to at the gym, but a smooth, circular platform rigged with sensors.
I hesitate, the familiar tangle of wires and headsets reminding me of the countless hours I spent here—playing with the tech, losing myself in virtual worlds, finding a brief escape from reality.
For a moment, I’m back there, trepidation turning to exhilaration as Mitzy helped me suit up. The weight of the headset, the strange sensation of walking without moving, and then… A new world pops up around me, so real I could almost touch it.
I shake off the memory.
Stop wasting time. Still not where I need to be.
I wrack my brain, trying to remember the rest of Mitzy’s whirlwind tour. That woman has boundless energy, her words tumbling out faster than her feet can carry her. I can almost hear her rapid-fire explanations, see her gesticulating wildly as she...
Wait.
A memory surfaces of Mitzy practically bouncing on her toes. She led me to an elevator. “And now, for the coolest part—literally. Our server room is in the basement. It’s like a high-tech igloo down there.”
The basement. Of course.
I approach the elevators, my heart racing. Just as I reach for the button, the doors slide open. A group of techs spills out, chattering about some code breakthrough. Inside, two more wait, holding the door. They look at me expectantly.
I freeze, cold realization washing over me. I can’t be seen heading to the server level—it’s not a place I’d ever have a reason to go.
“Sorry, forgot something.” I back away. Their puzzled looks follow me as the doors close.
Panic rising, I scan the hallway. There—a stairwell. I push through the heavy door, grateful for the sudden silence. The stairs wind downward, my footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. With each floor I descend, the weight in my chest grows heavier.
At the bottom, I pause, ear pressed to the door. Silence. Slowly, I ease it open, slipping out into a dimly lit corridor. Empty, thank God. I creep forward, trying to remember Mitzy’s tour route.
A heavy door looms ahead, “Server Room” stenciled in stark white letters. This is it. I tuck my own badge under my shirt, fingers trembling as I pull out Blake’s. The stolen badge feels hot in my hand, a burning reminder of my betrayal.
I swipe it, holding my breath.
A soft beep.
A green light.
The lock disengages with a click.
Breath quickening, I slip inside, closing the door behind me. The room envelops me in a world of technology. Rows of black cabinets stretch into the distance, a digital forest of massive computing power. The air is cool, almost frigid, yet sweat still beads on my forehead.
Pulling out the phone again, I whisper, “I’m in. What now?”
“Look for a terminal,” Malfor snaps through the phone . “It’ll have a monitor, keyboard, and probably some USB ports. Should stand out from the servers. ”
My heart sinks. “There are just—servers everywhere. Row after row.”
“Then look harder,” he growls. “It has to be there somewhere. Find it.”
I swallow hard, terror clawing at my throat. Disappointing Malfor isn’t an option. Not with what’s at stake.
I weave through the maze of humming machines, each aisle looking identical to the last. Blinking lights and whirring fans surround me, a digital jungle that seems to close in with every step. Sweat trickles down my back despite the chill.
One aisle. Two. Three. Nothing but towers of sleek black metal.
Panic rises. What if I can’t find it? What will Malfor do?
Then, at the end of the fourth aisle, I spot it. A soft glow catches my eye.
There, nestled between two server banks, stands a small workstation. A monitor hums quietly, its screen visible in the dim light. A keyboard waits below, a scatter of USB ports visible.
Relief floods through me, so intense my knees nearly buckle.
“I found it,” I breathe into the phone, my voice shaky.
“About time. Now, insert the drive.”
My hands shake as I plug it in. The screen flickers to life.
“Input exactly what I tell you.”
Malfor begins dictating a string of commands. My fingers tremble over the keys, fear making each stroke uncertain.
“Colon, backslash, backslash...” His voice crackles through the phone.
“Wait,” I stammer, “is that two colons or one colon and two backslashes?”
“One colon, two backslashes,” Malfor snaps. “Pay attention.”
Sweat beads on my forehead despite the chill. I type carefully, then read it back.
“Wrong,” he snarls. “It’s a forward slash, not a backslash. Start over.”
Tears prick at my eyes. My fingers shake as I delete and retype.
The process continues, each mistake ratcheting up Malfor’s anger and my terror. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure it’s audible over the phone. I’m alternately flushed and chilled, my shirt sticking to my back .
“S-sorry,” I choke out after another error. “I’ll get it right, I swear.”
“You’d better,” Malfor warns, his voice low and menacing. “Or your son will pay the price.”
The threat sends a fresh wave of panic through me. I force myself to breathe, to focus.
Finally, mercifully, I input the last command correctly. Lines of text scroll by in a dizzying blur, meaningless to me but significant to Malfor.
“Excellent,” he says smoothly, his mood shifting instantly. The sudden approval does nothing to calm my frayed nerves. “Now, we need to ? —”
The door handle jiggles. Voices approach.
My blood turns to ice. I’m trapped.
“Someone’s coming,” I whisper urgently into the phone. “What do I do?”
“Hide, you idiot.” Malfor snarls. “Don’t get caught.”