52. Sophie
52
Sophie
Kendrick 9:28 AM
You’ve rocked the boat enough. We hear you. Let’s meet and come to a truce.
T he message came from Maverick’s oldest brother—words that seemed nice enough but were most definitely coated with venom. I fought to school my features as Mav showed me the text before taking the phone back.
There was no way he was deliberating this… until our gazes met, and I saw the tension bracketing the corners of his mouth. My stomach plummeted.
“You can’t seriously be considering this. It’s a trap. It’s so blatantly a goddamn trap.”
Maverick’s jaw clenched, the midnight blue of his eyes dimming when he narrowed them at me. The way he rubbed his stubbled chin told me he was contemplating the offer, weighing it against the instinctual warning sounding throughout my nervous system.
We’d spent the last two weeks “rocking the boat,” as his brother said. Rumors here and there. Photos, voice memo clips of hushed conversations about the sex trafficking that a majority of the cartel was against. Undeniable proof of the sick and twisted ways of his family.
“Come on, Soph,” he said, his voice tight with frustration that was simmering beneath the surface. “What if it’s not? What if this is the chance to put an end to all of this bullshit?”
This bullshit being his family alienating him, hating him, hurting him, and murdering my father.
Holy shit. Was he getting cold feet? Ruthless, coldhearted, brutal Maverick was getting cold feet, when I didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on Chavez? What kind of alternate universe were we living in?
“By walking right into their hands?” I shot back, incredulous. My fingers gripped the edge of the bed where I sat, my knuckles whitening. “They’ve never played fair, never given you an inch without taking a mile. This is no olive branch, Mav. It’s a fucking cobra waiting to strike.”
His expression softened for a fraction of a second, the hard lines of his face melting away as he stepped closer. “I know you’re scared,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “But I have to do this. For closure. For us. ”
I jerked away from him, irritated now. “Fuck closure,” I hissed, knowing exactly how hypocritical I sounded. “You go there, and it very well might be the last thing you ever do. And what then? Leave me here to pick up the pieces, widowed?” The thought alone sent shivers down my spine, fear and anger intertwining into a potent cocktail of desperation.
“Baby, I—” Maverick started, but I cut him off with a sharp gesture, my hands slicing through the air.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me when you’re thinking about walking into a lion’s den!” I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks, the ferocity of my emotions turning my words into weapons. Instead of deflecting, I was projecting. “Think, Maverick! They want you vulnerable, they want you alone. And you’re going to give them exactly what they want? They’ve never given a shit about what you want.”
His eyes flared with hurt before he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. The muscles in his biceps flexed with the motion, the ring on his finger glinting in the light.
“Sophie, I can handle myself. You know that.”
Why was he being so fucking calm about this? He’d been so resentful toward them, so hellbent on taking their empire down with me, and now he was going to fucking throw away what he fought tooth and nail for. Me . A fucking future for us .
My shoulders dropped and tears welled in my eyes. No point in trying to be strong now. “Then why does it feel like you’re handling yourself straight into an early grave?” The question hung between us, heavy and suffocating. “Don’t do this, Mav. Please. I’m begging you.”
The plea in my voice clashed with the resolve in his, an unspoken battle raging in the few inches separating us. But even as I stood my ground, I knew the pull he had on me.
“Trust me,” he said finally, his voice low and rough around the edges. Gravelly, almost. “I’ve got this.”
“Trust goes both ways, and right now, you’re asking for a hell of a lot.”
Maverick’s control was slipping; I could tell by the way he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sophie,” he growled, his jaw clenching so hard I could almost hear his teeth grind, “did it ever fucking occur to you that I’ve been preparing for this my whole damn life? If it’s a trap, then so be it. I’m no stranger to bloodshed. You knew that when you married me.”
I recoiled as if slapped, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You can’t just march into death with your eyes wide open and call it fate, Maverick!”
“Then what do you call it?” His voice was lethal. “Fate, destiny, a fucking family reunion. It doesn’t matter! If they want me dead, I’ll take as many of them with me as I can.” He paced the room, a caged predator moments away from breaking free.
Normally I’d be salivating at the thought of a savage Maverick, but right now, I was blind with rage. With hurt, because he was willing to leave me behind.
“ Jesucristo jodido ,” I muttered. “Where the fuck do I fit into this, hmm? And, fuck, you’re talking about familicide like it’s a business negotiation!” Disbelief and fear coiled through me. I couldn’t believe we were actually talking about this.
“Isn’t it though?” He paused his relentless pacing. “We’re all playing the same twisted game here, babe. Only difference is I’m not afraid to admit it. Both of our parents will lose their lives due to failed business negotiations.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” My anger rose to meet his, and it was amazing that I was still sitting. The bed under my thighs was grounding me to this planet, to the fear that was snaking through me. Or maybe it was paralyzing me. I couldn’t tell. I just knew I was fighting a panic attack like I’d never felt before. “It’s suicide. You might as well be walking straight into a firing squad.”
“Maybe I am,” he said with a shrug that set my nerves on fire. Now I did jump up, my hands balled into fists, because what the actual fuck ? What about me? “But at least I know where I stand with a gun pointed at me. It’s these fucking civil conversations that fuck with my head.”
“They never wanted you, Maverick!” The truth came spilling out, bitter and cold, itching to hurt him the way he was hurting me. “Your whole life, they made it clear you were the odd one out. Why would they have a change of heart now?”
“And that’s exactly why I have to go, Soph. To finally look them in the eye and show them I don’t give a shit about being the black sheep. I’m done with their games.”
I just gaped at him, knowing the heartbreak was showing on my face as tears leaked from my eyes. Here I was, once again willing to throw my life down for someone I loved only for them to not return the sentiment. I guess I would always love more than I could be loved.
Then he was cupping my face with a tenderness that belied the steel in his voice. “I have to end this, baby. For the both of us. So we can move on.”
“Move on?” I laughed, hollow and strained as those damn tears persisted. “There’s no moving on if you’re six feet under.”
“Then trust me to come back to you.” The promise in his eyes was fierce, unwavering. Almost enough to instill confidence.
“Trust isn’t bulletproof, Maverick.” I swallowed. “And neither are you.” I knew deep down that my words were as futile as trying to stop a hurricane with my bare hands.
My husband’s lips pressed against mine, a bittersweet taste of desperation and desire. I had the sudden sense that this could be the last time he kissed me like this—or ever again, period. I sobbed, because I knew I couldn’t stop him. He would do whatever he wanted, like he always did, except this time I knew he wouldn’t come out on top.
Even as my mind was screaming at me to protect myself, my body betrayed me, leaning into him and craving the dangerous comfort only he could provide.
He silenced my protests with an urgency I felt deep inside me. I was caught in the eye of his storm, his tongue an anchor in the chaos of our argument. His hands roamed over my body with a fervor that threatened to pull me under its tide. Our clothes shed like leaves in autumn until we were both naked.
I wanted him always, and right now I needed to feel like we were going to be okay, even though I knew that I was going to lose him.
He walked me backward to the bed until the backs of my thighs hit the mattress. He pushed me down, crawling over me and pulling me to the head of the bed. Suddenly my hand was pinned under his, the cool metal click of a handcuff snapping around my wrist, securing me to one of the bed posts. I glared up at him, the heat of my anger increasing further with the fire he’d ignited in my veins.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I need to do this, and I can’t have you following me.”
“Don’t you fucking do this,” I gasped, another sob catching in my throat. I could barely see through my tears, and I was so tired of crying over men. “You walk out that fucking door, Maverick, and I swear to God, you can consider yourself on a sex ban for a month!”
He just grinned, the diabolical bastard. “So you think I’ll live?”
I stilled under him, narrowing my eyes. “No , eres un maldito idiota! ”
He hummed, and my free hand clenched at my side. “I love it when you speak Spanish to me.”
“Do not ignore me. You better not fucking go through with this.”
He slowly re-dressed while I continued cursing at him.
“Let me go! If you think leaving your wife cuffed to this bed without finishing what you started is going to fly, you’ve lost your goddamn mind! I’ll fucking kill you myself if they don’t!” My voice broke, half threat, half plea.
“I love you,” was all he said as I thrashed, trying to tug on my arm to see if the bed post would loosen. My cries filled the room as he backed away.
“Don’t be stupid, Maverick! Don’t you dare do this. Don’t leave me here like this.” The slam of the door echoed like a gavel, sentencing me to solitude and fury. I could die here.
“MAVERICK! Come back here! Let me go!” I writhed against the bedpost, my wrist raw from the metal digging into my skin. My screams were met with silence; a futile attempt to stop the inevitable, to keep him safe. The man I loved had walked out, and suddenly that love tasted real bitter on my tongue.
The adrenaline slowly ebbed away, leaving me with an oppressive stillness.
Fuck him.
I pictured all the ways I could make him pay for this torment. He’d always prided himself on being ruthless, claimed cruelty wasn’t in his nature. But this… this was sadistic. Cuffed to our bed, my skin still thrumming from his touch—it was a mockery of our twisted love.
Minutes crawled by, each second a pointed jab as I lay naked. My mind raced as I forced my breathing to calm. I schemed, calculated, contemplated, until clarity pierced through the red haze.
Callie.
She’d get me out of this.
“Hey Siri,” I called out, my voice steadier than I felt as I debated dislocating my thumb to free myself, but I really couldn’t afford for my dominant hand to be injured. “Text Callie.”
“Okay. What would you like to say?” Siri’s robotic tone was a lifeline in the suffocating void as I looked around for my phone, realizing I’d left it across the room on the dresser.
“Emergency. SOS. Need you at Maverick’s place now. Penthouse floor code 1030. Hurry.” Each word may as well have been a bullet entering Maverick’s body with how long it felt like time was ticking by.
“Your message says, ‘Emergency. SOS. Need you at Maverick’s place now. Door code 1030. Hurry.’ Ready to send it?”
“Yes, fucking send it!” The command burst from me. My nerves were frayed thin, and what little sanity I had left was whittling me down to nothing.
“Done,” Siri confirmed, and from across the room, my phone made the soft chime of a message sent. Each passing moment stretched thin, fraught with anticipation and the gnawing fear for Maverick’s safety. I was going to throttle him for every second of this agony when I got free.
Come on, Cal. Don’t let me down. Not now.
A tinkling ringtone punctured the silence, paired with an incessant buzzing. I hoped it was Callie calling, acknowledging she received my message.