45. Sophie #2
I can see it now. All of it. The distance in her eyes those last months—but it wasn’t coldness, it was fear. She was afraid, and I was twelve, and I didn’t know what fear looked like on a mother’s face because I’d never seen it before. I thought she was pulling away.
She was packing a bag. For both of us.
And he killed her for it.
The ground shifts under everything I’ve ever believed about myself. Every wall I built, every story I told myself about the woman who left—all of it collapses at once, and I’m standing in the rubble.
I breathe through it. My eyes are burning but I will not cry in front of this man. I will not give him that.
I lean forward, place my hands flat on the metal table, and look him in the eyes.
“Do you know what’s going to happen to you, Henri?” My voice comes out steady and quiet.
His expression falters.
“You’re going to die in a room like this one,” I say.
“And nobody will come for you. And nobody will mourn you. And when you’re gone, nobody will remember your name.
” I hold his gaze. “Do you know how many alphas like you I’ve killed?
Men who sold omegas like cattle. Men who thought their money and power made them untouchable.
” I let the silence stretch. “They all looked like you at the end, Henri. Small. Old. Scared.”
The color drains from his face, like watching something die from the inside out.
“But my mother?” I stand up. My voice doesn’t waver.
“People will remember her. I will remember her. Every omega I save, every trafficking ring I burn to the ground—that’s her.
That’s what she started. You killed her body, Henri, but you couldn’t kill what she was trying to do. And I’m going to finish it.”
I turn my back on him and walk to the door.
“Sophie.” His voice comes from behind me, small and broken now. It doesn’t sound anything like the one I grew up fearing.
I don’t turn around.
I walk out and close the door. In the corridor, I press my back against the concrete wall and breathe. My hands are shaking so badly I flatten them against it, feeling the cold seep into my palms.
Griffin finds me like that. I can tell from his face that he watched the whole thing. They all did—there are cameras in that room, monitors in the next one over.
He doesn’t say anything. He just stands beside me, close enough that I can feel his presence, and waits.
“Tell me everything,” I say.
He leads me upstairs to one of the small offices. Declan is already there, sitting at the desk with a file open in front of him. Nolan is by the window with his back to the room.
Declan speaks first. His voice is careful, like he knows the information he’s delivering is going to leave a mark.
“Your mother came to us, Sophie. Twenty years ago. She made contact through an informant—said she had evidence against her husband. Trafficking, abuse, financial crimes. We set up a meeting.” He pauses. “She never showed.”
“We tried to find her,” Nolan says, his voice rough. “The trail went cold. We assumed she’d changed her mind.”
“She didn’t change her mind,” I say. “He killed her.”
The silence that follows has weight.
“We know that now,” Griffin says quietly. “We didn’t then. We didn’t make the connection—your mother’s contact and your case—until Declan’s team started pulling Henri’s records apart last night. The name she used was different. The trail was buried.”
Declan reaches into the file and pulls out an envelope. Old, yellowed at the edges, the paper softened by time. My name is written on the front in handwriting I haven’t seen in such a long time.
“She left this with the informant,” Declan says. His voice is gentle now. “Asked him to give it to you if anything happened to her. He held onto it all this time. We only found him three days ago.”
He holds it out.
My hands are shaking. I take the envelope and turn it over.
The seal is unbroken. Nobody has read this.
For all that time, this letter has been sitting in a stranger’s drawer, waiting for me, and my mother’s handwriting is on the front—round letters, the slight leftward slant.
I used to watch her write grocery lists and Christmas cards.
I open it.
My darling Sophie,
If you’re reading this, then I didn’t make it. And I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you the way I promised myself I would the day you were born.
I need you to know that if I’m gone, it’s not because I chose to go. I would never choose to leave you. Never.
You are the bravest, kindest person I have ever known. You are twelve years old and you are already stronger than I will ever be. Whatever happens, remember that. Remember who you are.
I love you. I have loved you every single day of your life, and I will love you for every day after it, wherever I am.
Live, my darling. Be brave. Keep that good heart of yours, even when the world gives you reasons not to.
All my love, always,
Maman
I put the letter down.
My vision blurs. I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, hard, like I can push the tears back inside.
They come anyway, tracking down my cheeks and dripping off my jaw, and I press my lips together and breathe through my nose and try not to make a sound because I am in a room full of people I respect and I can’t—I can’t—
Declan’s hand finds my shoulder. He doesn’t squeeze or pull me in, just rests it there and lets me shake.
“She was brave,” Declan says quietly.
“I know,” I manage. “I know she was.”
I wipe my face with the back of my hand and breathe and look at Griffin.
“You’ll take care of him,” I say. “Permanently.”
“Like always,” Griffin says.
Nobody speaks. I fold my mother’s letter carefully and slip it into my pocket, close to my heart.
“I need to get back,” I say.
Griffin studies me. “Sophie—”
“I still have a mole to catch, Griffin.” I look at him, and my voice is steady, and my eyes are still wet, and I have never meant anything more. “I’m not walking away from this. Not now.”
Griffin holds my gaze for a long moment. Then the corner of his mouth lifts.
“Go,” he says.
I walk out of Sentinel and into the daylight and get in my car and sit there for a moment with my mother’s letter in my pocket and the taste of Max still on my lips and think about what it means to protect the people you love.
Then I start the engine and drive home.