Chapter 29 Sophia
SOPHIA
The chain around my wrist is cold, familiar.
I stare at the rusted pipe where Mikhail first bound me, and a bitter laugh escapes my lips. I knew he’d pick somewhere symbolic.
Full circle.
We’ve come full circle.
But I’m not the same terrified college girl who begged for mercy in this warehouse.
That girl died somewhere between the forced wedding and the moment I pulled a wire from an explosive vest.
The woman who remains knows exactly what she’s doing.
Lorenzo paces in front of me, his blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
He thinks he’s won, that I’ve walked into his trap like some naive fool desperate to save her husband’s soul.
Let him think it.
Men like Lorenzo always underestimate women, especially ones they believe are motivated by love.
He’s not entirely wrong. I am here because of love. But not the way he imagines.
“Comfortable?” Lorenzo asks, gesturing to my restraints with mock concern. “I wanted you to feel at home. This is where your story with Mikhail began, after all. Poetic, don’t you think?”
I test the chain’s length, noting exactly how far I can move. Three feet in any direction. Enough. “You’re predictable, Lorenzo. I knew you’d bring me here.”
His smile falters slightly. “Predictable? My dear, you walked right into my hands.”
“Did I?” I lean back against the pipe, forcing my body language to appear relaxed despite my racing heart. The small device taped to my inner thigh presses against my skin, a reassuring weight. “Or did you walk into mine?”
Lorenzo’s expression darkens.
He crosses the space between us in three strides, his hand shooting out to grip my chin.
His fingers dig into my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You think you’re clever? You think your little games matter? Mikhail will come for you, and when he does, I’ll make him watch while I destroy everything he loves.”
I hold his stare, refusing to flinch. “You already tried that. It didn’t work.”
He releases me with a shove that makes my head crack against the pipe. Stars burst across my vision, but I don’t cry out. Won’t give him the satisfaction.
“The difference,” Lorenzo says, pulling out his phone, “is that this time, I’m not leaving anything to chance. No bombs with simple wiring. No opportunities for heroics. Just you, chained and helpless, while Mikhail watches you die.”
He taps something on his screen, and I hear the mechanical whir of cameras activating around the warehouse.
Red lights blink to life in the shadows, at least six that I can see. He’s streaming this.
Of course he is.
Maximum psychological damage.
“Smile for your husband,” Lorenzo says, angling his phone toward me. “Let him see what his love has cost you.”
I stare into the camera lens and think of Mikhail.
Of his green eyes that can be so cold but burn with heat when he looks at me.
Of his hands that have killed so many but touch me with unexpected tenderness.
Of the way he whispered my name in the safe house, like a prayer and a curse combined.
I look into the camera and tell Mikhail not to come, that it’s a trap.
Lorenzo laughs, lowering the phone. “How touching. But we both know he’s already on his way. Probably tearing through the city right now, desperate and reckless. Exactly how I want him.”
He moves away, checking his watch. “He has fifty-three minutes before I start removing pieces of you. Fingers first, I think. Then toes. We’ll see how long you can maintain that brave facade.”
The moment his back is turned, I shift my weight and reach down, my fingers finding the edge of the device taped to my thigh.
It’s small, no bigger than a USB drive, but it’s everything.
I peel it free slowly, carefully, keeping my movements minimal. The chain rattles slightly, and Lorenzo glances back.
I freeze, my hand palming the device against my leg.
“Something wrong?” he asks.
“Just trying to get comfortable.” I shift again, this time deliberately making the chain rattle louder. “These aren’t exactly ergonomic.”
He snorts and returns his attention to his phone, typing something. Probably updating his men on Mikhail’s expected arrival time.
I use the noise of the chain to mask the soft click as I activate the device.
It’s a signal jammer, military grade, courtesy of Ricardo Castellano’s extensive arsenal.
Tony helped me acquire it three days ago when I asked for one, not knowing why I needed it.
He asked, but respected my non-answer.
Back then, I never thought I’d go through with it.
Or need to go through with it.
The red lights on the cameras flicker once, twice, then die. Lorenzo’s phone screen goes dark.
“What the hell?” He taps the screen frantically then looks up at the dead cameras. His face contorts with rage. “What did you do?”
“Leveled the playing field.” I meet his gaze calmly. “You’re not the only one who can plan an ambush, Lorenzo.”
He crosses to me in two strides, his hand raised to strike. I brace for the blow, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, he grabs my arm, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he searches me roughly.
His hand finds the jammer taped to my thigh, and he rips it free with a snarl.
“Clever little bitch.” He crushes the device under his heel. “But ultimately pointless. The cameras are just for show. Mikhail’s still coming, and you’re still going to die.”
“Maybe.” I watch as he pulls out a knife, the blade catching the dim warehouse light. “But at least he won’t have to watch.”
Lorenzo presses the knife against my throat, the edge cold and sharp. “I don’t need cameras to make him suffer. I’ll just make sure there’s enough of you left for him to recognize.”
My pulse hammers against the blade, but I force myself to breathe slowly.
In through my nose, out through my mouth.
The technique Mikhail taught me during our weapons training.
Stay calm.
Wait for your opening.
“You know what’s funny?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You spent all this time trying to break Mikhail, trying to turn him into a monster. But you succeeded. And now you’re going to find out exactly what kind of monster you created.”
Lorenzo’s hand trembles slightly. Just a fraction, but I feel it. “He’s not coming to save you. He’s coming to die.”
“No.” I smile, and I know it must look slightly unhinged because Lorenzo actually takes a step back. “He’s coming to end you. And I’m going to help him do it.”
The knife lowers slightly. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just learned from the best.” I rattle my chain deliberately. “You taught me something important, Lorenzo. You taught me that sometimes the only way to win is to become the thing you fear most.”
Before he can respond, I hear it.
The distant rumble of engines.
Multiple vehicles approaching fast.
Lorenzo hears it too.
His head snaps toward the warehouse entrance.
For the first time, I see genuine uncertainty cross his face.
“Right on time,” I murmur.
Lorenzo spins back to me, the knife rising again. “You think he can save you? I have twenty men in this building. Twenty trained killers who will cut him down the moment he walks through that door.”
“I’m counting on it.” I lean forward as far as the chain allows. “Because while they’re focused on him, they won’t be watching me.”
His eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I close my eyes and count. Five. Four. Three. Two.
The warehouse doors explode inward with a deafening crash.
Not kicked open or shot through, but blown completely off their hinges by shaped charges.
The blast wave rolls through the space, and I duck my head, protecting my face from flying debris.
When I look up, Mikhail stands silhouetted in the smoking entrance, backlit by the headlights of three SUVs.
He’s not alone.
Tony is on his right, Ricardo Castellano on his left, and behind them, at least thirty armed men fan out with military precision.
But it’s Mikhail I can’t look away from.
His green eyes find mine across the warehouse, and even from this distance, I see the relief that flashes across his face.
Then it’s gone, replaced by cold fury as his gaze shifts to Lorenzo.
“Let her go,” Mikhail’s voice echoes through the space, deadly calm. “And I’ll make your death quick.”
Lorenzo laughs, but it sounds forced. He grabs me by the hair, yanking my head back and pressing the knife against my throat again. “You’re outnumbered, Nephew. Surrender, or I open her throat right now.”
I feel the blade bite into my skin, warm blood trickling down my neck. But I don’t scream. Don’t beg. Instead, I catch Mikhail’s eye and mouth two words. “Trust me.”
His jaw clenches, but he gives the smallest nod.
That’s when I move.
I slam my head backward into Lorenzo’s face with every ounce of strength I have.
I feel his nose crunch, feel his grip on my hair loosen.
The knife slices across my throat, but it’s shallow, glancing off at an angle instead of cutting deep.
I drop to the ground, making myself as small a target as possible, and reach for the second device I have hidden.
Not taped to my thigh this time but tucked into my bra.
A small remote with a single red button.
Lorenzo staggers back, blood pouring from his broken nose, raising his knife to finish what he started.
I press the button.
The charges I placed around the warehouse’s support columns before meeting with Lorenzo detonate simultaneously.
Not enough to bring the whole building down.
Just enough to create chaos, to fill the air with smoke and debris, to give Mikhail and his men the cover they need.
And as the warehouse erupts into controlled chaos, as Lorenzo’s men scramble and Mikhail’s team advances, I smile through the blood on my lips.
Everything is going according to plan.