33. Sophia
THIRTY-THREE
Sophia
As evening approaches, a new face enters the room. A raven-haired beauty, her eyes are wary as she approaches with a first aid kit.
“This is Violet. She’ll patch you up,” Malfor orders. “Can’t have my newest toy falling apart on me, can we?”
The woman’s touch is gentle as she tends to my wounds. When our eyes meet, my pain and fear are reflected back at me. She moves quietly, her long, dark, wavy hair pulled back, framing a face that strikes a faint chord of recognition within me. She doesn’t say a word, just kneels beside me, her hands gentle as they assess my injuries.
Her touch is skilled and methodical as she cleans the cuts and bruises left by Malfor’s lash. Every so often, she pauses, her dark eyes flicking up to meet mine, a silent communication passing between us. I search her face, trying to place where I’ve seen her before, but the memory eludes me, slipping away like a shadow in the dark.
She applies a cool salve to the raw welts on my back, her fingers working quickly but carefully. The pain dulls slightly, though it doesn’t fade entirely. Her gaze sharpens, catching the wince I can’t quite suppress, and she offers the barest nod of acknowledgment.
“Thank you,” I whisper when Malfor steps out briefly.
Her lips press into a thin line as she finishes bandaging a particularly deep cut. She leans closer, her breath warm against my ear as she whispers, “We’re not allowed to speak.”
I nod slightly, understanding the warning. She pulls back, her expression neutral, returning to her task with the same quiet focus. When she’s done, she stands and gives me a final, lingering glance before turning away. The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the echo of her silent care.
Later, as I’m left alone to “rest,” I replay a conversation I overheard earlier.
Malfor, discussing shipment details with someone. Information that could be valuable to the Guardians—if only I could get it to them. The thought of my former allies sends a pang through my chest.
Do they know what’s happened to me? Do they care? Or do they see me only as a traitor?
That night, as I curl up on the thin mattress, I allow myself to remember Blake’s arms around me, his laugh, and the safety I felt in his presence. The memory is a double-edged sword, comforting and tormenting in equal measure. I’m curious if he’s looking for me and if he understands why I did what I did. The thought of him hating me is almost as painful as my physical wounds.
A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts. The woman who tended me slips into the room, a finger to her lips. She pulls out a phone and shows me a video. Luke, alive and unharmed, playing with some toys. My heart leaps into my throat at the sight of him.
“He’s okay,” she whispers. “I’m watching over him.”
Tears stream down my face, relief and anguish warring within me. “Thank you,” I choke out, my voice barely audible.
We talk quietly, sharing what little information we have. Two captives, bound by circumstance, finding a small measure of solace in each other’s company. But Malfor, ever vigilant, isn’t far away. We hear his heavy footsteps approaching, and the woman quickly hides the phone and slips out of the room.
Days pass in a haze of pain and fear. Violet returns each day to tend to my wounds, her gentle hands so different from Malfor’s cruelty. We develop a system of communication through looks and subtle gestures, conveying what we can’t say aloud.
One evening, as Violet changes my bandages, her hands tremble slightly. Her eyes dart to the door more frequently than usual, and there’s a tightness around her mouth that wasn’t there before.
“What’s wrong?” I mouth silently when she meets my gaze.
She shakes her head minutely, but there’s fear in her eyes. Something’s changed, and not for the better. As she finishes her work, she presses something into my hand—a small piece of paper. I curl my fingers around it, hiding it from view.
That night, when I’m sure I’m alone, I unfold the paper. In tiny, cramped writing, it reads: “Malfor plans to move you soon. Be ready.”
My heart races. Move me where? I swallow hard, trying to push down the panic rising in my throat. I have to stay calm, stay focused. For Luke.
The next day, Violet brings me food—a luxury I haven’t been afforded often. As she sets down the tray, she leans close, pretending to adjust my blanket.
“Eat,” she whispers. “You’ll need your strength.”
Whatever’s coming, I need to be as prepared as possible. As I eat, I study Violet more closely. There’s something in her eyes, a determination beyond mere sympathy for a fellow captive. She’s risking a lot to help me, but why?
There’s no time to ask because she’s already slipping out of the room. Her visits are always brief—she can’t afford to linger.
That night, Violet returns with her phone.
“We don’t have much time,” she says urgently, her voice barely above a whisper. “Malfor’s out, but he won’t be gone long.”
She shows me another video of Luke, this time with a beautiful raven-haired girl of about seven years old I don’t recognize. My son looks unharmed, playing quietly.
“Who is she?” I ask, my eyes fixed on the screen .
Violet’s voice catches as she replies, “She’s my daughter… Zephyr.”
The name strikes me as unusual and beautiful. I look up at Violet, seeing the love and pain in her eyes as she watches the video.
“Your daughter?” I’m confused, with a hundred questions bubbling up inside me.
She nods, her eyes never leaving the screen. “Yes. I-I lost her a long time ago, but she’s safe now—like Luke.”
I reach out, grasping Violet’s hand. “Thank you,” I whisper fervently. “For showing me this. But, Violet, why? Why are you risking so much?”
Violet’s eyes meet mine, filled with determination and fear. “Because I know what it’s like to be separated from your child. Not knowing if they’re safe or if you’ll ever see them again. No mother should have to go through that.”
Her words hit me hard, and tears well up in my eyes.
“How did you end up here?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
Violet glances at the door, then back at me. She takes a deep breath as if steeling herself. “It’s a long story, but I think… I think you need to know.”
She settles beside me, her voice dropping even lower. “Like you, I was taken years ago when I was barely more than a girl myself. They—they used me as a surrogate.”
My breath catches in my throat. The horror of what she’s saying sinks in slowly.
“Zephyr,” Violet continues, her voice trembling slightly, “she wasn’t supposed to be mine. She was a surrogate birth, a job, nothing more. But the moment I felt her kick inside me, I knew I couldn’t let her be just another commodity.”
She pauses, lost in the memory. I squeeze her hand, encouraging her to continue.
I listen intently, my eyes drawn to the beautiful raven-haired girl in the video. There’s a glimmer of recognition in the way Zephyr moves, something about her spirit that echoes the woman’s own quiet strength.
“The client contracted with Malfor for a child, but he wanted a son. When Zephyr was born, Malfor was not pleased. I was terrified of what would happen to her. The client… Something happened to him. I don’t know the details, but I think Malfor might have had something to do with it. For whatever reason, Malfor kept Zephyr. I can only assume he has plans for her, plans that terrify me.”
Her eyes fill with unshed tears, her voice choked with emotion. “I’ve tried to protect her, to give her love and comfort, even in this terrible place. But it’s only a matter of time before Malfor takes her away from me. He’s grooming her for something, and I can’t bear the thought of what that might be.”
My heart aches for her and for Zephyr. I can see the pain etched on her face, the desperate love of a mother trying to shield her child from a world of horror.
“When she was born, I tried to escape with her. But they caught me.” Violet’s voice breaks, and she closes her eyes as if trying to shut out the memory. “The punishment… It was severe. I thought I was going to die. I wanted to die.”
I feel sick imagining the horrors she must have endured. “But you survived,” I whisper.
Violet nods, her eyes haunted. “I survived. And when I didn’t die, Malfor took me. He told me if I ever wanted to see Zephyr again, I’d do whatever he asked. No questions, no hesitation.”
“So you’ve been here all this time? Working for him?”
“Yes,” Violet says, her voice barely audible. “Tending to his ‘guests,’ doing whatever he asks. I’d do anything, endure anything, for Zephyr.”
The weight of her words hangs heavy between us. I think of Luke, of the impossible choice I made to protect him. “And now you take care of her?”
Violet nods, a flicker of something like relief crossing her face. “It’s the one mercy in all of this. I get to see Zephyr and care for her.”
“But why help me?” I ask, still struggling to understand. “Why risk it?”
She looks at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “When I saw you, when I realized you were a mother too—I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”
I’m overwhelmed by her story, by the strength it must have taken to survive all these years.
“How do you endure it?”
A soft smile touches Violet’s lips. “Zephyr,” she says. “The thought of her, the hope of being with her… It gives me strength. Even on the darkest days, when I feel like I can’t go on, I remember her laugh, her smile. And I know I have to keep going.”
Her words resonate deeply within me. I think of Luke, of how the mere sight of him in that video has renewed my determination to survive, to do whatever it takes to see him again.
“Tell me about her,” I say softly, wanting to keep Violet talking, to strengthen this fragile connection between us. “You’ve done so much for her. You’ve given her hope and love in a place that offers neither.”
Violet’s eyes light up, a mother’s love shining through despite everything. “She’s—incredible. So smart, so kind. Even as a baby, she had this way of looking at the world, like everything was a wonderful new discovery.”
She chuckles softly. “I used to sing to her, when she was inside me. Old lullabies my grandmother taught me. And you know what? Those same songs still calm her when she’s upset.”
I smile, remembering similar moments with Luke. “They remember,” I say. “Even before they’re born, they know us.”
Violet nods, her expression turning serious. “Sophia, listen to me. What you did, infiltrating the Guardians… Malfor will use that against you. He knows more than anyone else, probably more than you realize. He talks… Sometimes he says things he shouldn’t.”
I feel a chill run down my spine. “What do you mean?”
Violet leans in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “He has plans for you. I don’t know all the details, but—he wants to break you, to turn you into a weapon. Maybe just for his own amusement, or maybe there’s some larger plan. With Malfor, you can never be sure.”
The weight of her words presses down on me, suffocating. I want to say that I won’t let him, that I’ll find a way to make things right, but the words die in my throat. I know the truth–there is no making this right. This is the hand fate has dealt me, and for Luke’s sake, I’ll play it.
“Have you ever thought about trying to escape? To get Zephyr out of here?” My voice is small and hollow.
Violet’s expression turns somber, and she shakes her head. “The one and only time I tried to escape, I nearly lost my life. Malfor… He’s relentless. I can’t risk it again, not when it could mean losing Zephyr forever. All I can do is stay here, be there for her, and hope for the best.”
I understand her fear, but the thought of staying here, of accepting this fate, fills me with dread. “But what if there was a way? What if we could find help?”
She looks at me, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and despair. “I wish there was, but I won’t risk it. All I can do is make sure Zephyr is safe. That’s my only goal.”
I nod, realizing the depth of her resolve. For now, we’re both captives, bound by our love for our children. I can’t help but hold onto the hope that there might still be a way out, a way to free Luke and Zephyr from this nightmare.
“So what do I do?”
Her eyes are filled with a mix of sympathy. “Behave. Do everything Malfor wants, without question. If you do that, if you prove yourself useful and obedient… Maybe, a few months from now, he might allow you to see Luke.”
Hope and despair war within me at her words. The thought of seeing Luke again is everything to me, but the price—the price is my soul.
“Is that what you do?” I ask, searching her face. “Obey and hope?”
Violet nods, her expression a mask of resigned determination. “It’s all we can do. For our children, we endure. We survive.”
As she prepares to leave, I catch her arm. “Violet,” I say softly, “thank you. For trusting me with your story. For everything. I don’t know why fate brought us together, but I’m grateful it did. ”
She gives me a sad smile. “So am I. Remember what I said. Obey, endure, and maybe—maybe someday…”
As the door closes behind her, I lie back on the thin mattress, my mind racing. I think of Luke, of Blake, of the Guardians. I think of Violet and Zephyr, of the incredible strength it must take to hold onto even the smallest shred of hope in the darkest of circumstances.
I close my eyes, steeling myself for what’s to come. Like Violet, I will do whatever it takes and endure whatever I must to see my son again.
It’s not hope, not really. Hope implies a chance of something better. What we have is simpler and more primal. It’s survival for the sake of our children. And sometimes, that has to be enough.
Malfor has made a grave mistake. His greatest miscalculation is underestimating the power of a mother’s love, because a mother’s love is the most powerful weapon in the world.