20. Sophia
TWENTY
Sophia
Autumn firmly settles over Guardian HQ, bringing a chill that mirrors the dread in my heart.
The usually vibrant California sun seems to recoil from my traitorous activities, shrouding itself behind a thick veil of gray clouds, turning its face away from my betrayal.
Day after day, the sun struggles to break through, its weak rays barely penetrating the ashen sky. When it does manage to peek through, it feels accusatory, its harsh light exposing my every move. I shrink from its gaze, seeking the shadows as I go about my clandestine tasks.
Even the usually temperate climate has turned against me. An unseasonable chill permeates the air, seeping into my bones. The cold is a constant reminder of the warmth I’m betraying, of the heat of Blake’s embrace that I’ll soon leave behind.
As I move through Guardian HQ, planting devices and inputting codes, the damp mist clings to me, much like the guilt that refuses to let me go. Fog rolls in, obscuring familiar landmarks, making the place I’ve come to call home feel alien and hostile.
In this dreary, sun-starved world, I’ve become a shadow myself—a traitor moving unseen, my actions hidden by the gloom that seems to judge me. In its relentless gray misery, the weather is both my accomplice and my accuser, covering my misdeeds while constantly reminding me of the brightness I’m leaving behind.
Each day blurs into the next, a haze of coffee orders and stolen moments of sabotage. The drizzle that has become near-constant feels like nature’s silent weeping for my betrayal.
Every time my phone buzzes with new instructions, my stomach clenches, but I obey. I call in sick to work, my voice hoarse as I lie to Jenna. Then, I sneak into various buildings across the Guardian HQ complex—the damp air clings to me, as suffocating as the guilt weighing me down.
I plant devices and input codes as directed; each act is another nail in the coffin of the life I’ve come to love.
My instructions appear as if by magic—in my locker at work, slipped under the apartment door, and once even tucked into my apron at The Guardian Grind.
I don’t know who’s passing them to me, but the thought that Malfor has other operatives here sends a chill down my spine. I wish I could warn Blake about this security breach, but the irony of my position—the biggest breach of all—keeps me silent.
Each night, I return to Blake’s arms, hating myself for the lies, but unable to give up the warmth and love I’ve found with him. As we cuddle on the couch, the throw blanket wrapped around us against the autumn chill, I try to memorize every detail—the sound of his heartbeat, the feeling of his arms around me, the way his laugh rumbles through his chest.
With each act of betrayal, these precious moments slowly slip away, replaced by the cold reality of my true purpose.
The next day dawns gray and misty, matching my mood as I head to work at The Guardian Grind. As I tie my apron, my fingers brush against something tucked in the pocket. My heart sinks as I discreetly pull out a small envelope. Inside are several tiny devices—listening bugs—and a handwritten note with instructions.
Throughout my shift, I move around the café, planting the bugs in inconspicuous places. Under tables, behind picture frames, and even in the potted plants .
I slip into the cafeteria during my break, continuing my clandestine task. The constant chatter and clinking of dishes mask the sound of my movements as I strategically place the bugs around the room.
As I’m finishing up, my phone buzzes. I duck into an empty hallway to answer it.
“Is it done?” Malfor’s cold voice slithers through the line.
I swallow hard. “Yes. I placed the devices in The Guardian Grind and the cafeteria as you instructed.”
“Excellent.” His tone shifts, a hint of glee creeping in. “You’ve done well, my pet. Tomorrow’s your last day there.”
The words strike me hard, nearly knocking me off balance. My legs buckle, and I have to brace myself against the wall to keep from collapsing.
“T-tomorrow?” I choke out, my voice barely a whisper.
“Did you think you’d get to play house forever? It’s time to come home, where you belong.” Malfor’s cruel laughter echoes through the phone. “I can’t wait to see you again. I bet you’re excited to come home to me, aren’t you?”
The thought makes my skin crawl. “Of course,” I lie, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Good girl.” Malfor’s voice drips with satisfaction. “I have so many plans for you when you return. You’ve pleased me greatly.”
I want to ask about Luke, to beg for confirmation that my son is safe, but the words stick in my throat.
“Thank you, sir.”
His words send a chill down my spine. I know what awaits me—pain, torture, manipulation. An existence so bleak that, for a fleeting moment, I consider ending it all right here. One final act of defiance.
“Sleep well, my dear.” His voice drips with false tenderness. “Tomorrow, you’ll be back where you belong.”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what’s to come. Luke needs me. As long as he’s in danger, I have to endure. I have to survive.
The world spins around me.
Tomorrow .
My last day of freedom, of happiness, of love.
The last day I’ll see Blake’s smile, feel Jenna’s friendly pat on the shoulder, or hear the laughter of the regulars at The Guardian Grind.
For a moment, a wild impulse seizes me. I could run to Blake right now and confess everything. Beg for his protection, for his forgiveness. Tell him about everything I’ve done, even the parts I don’t understand. Surely he could help, could save me from this nightmare.
But then Luke’s face flashes in my mind. My beautiful boy held hostage by this monster. The thought of him suffering because of my weakness is unbearable.
“I’ll be ready.” I’m surprised by the steadiness in my voice.
As I end the call, I slide down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest. Tears stream down my face as the full weight of my situation crashes over me. Tomorrow, I will lose everything. Everything except the crushing responsibility of keeping my son safe.
I allow myself this one moment of weakness, of despair. Then, wiping my eyes, I rise, squaring my shoulders and standing tall. I have one day left. One day to memorize every detail of the life I’m leaving behind. One day to gather strength for the ordeal ahead.
For Luke, I will endure.
For Luke, I will survive.
For Luke, I will destroy any chance of happiness I may have had.
Bile rises in my throat. I wish I could tell Blake. That I could let him know the truth without putting Luke in danger.
Slowly, an idea takes root. I can’t come out and tell him everything—Malfor would destroy Luke in an instant. But maybe… Maybe I could leave subtle hints, breadcrumbs he could follow to unravel everything I’ve done.
It’s a risk, a dangerous game, but it might be the only way to lessen the damage I’ve caused without tipping Malfor off.