Chapter 28
Sophia
Sophia didn’t know how long she’d been in the cage.
Time didn’t move normally here. It stretched. Warped. Folded in on itself.
The only rhythm came from the dripping water, a slow and relentless drip… drip… drip… echoing through the concrete corridor like a countdown she could not see.
Her body ached. Her wrists throbbed. Her cheek pulsed with every heartbeat. The cold from the floor seeped into her bones until she couldn’t tell where she ended and the concrete began.
She curled tighter, trying to stay warm, trying to stay awake, trying not to think about Switchblade.
But the memory kept replaying.
The gunshot. The way he’d jerked. The way his voice had broken when he told her to run.
Her breath hitched. She pressed her forehead to her knees, fighting the rising panic.
She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t helpless. But she was terrified.
Her pulse hammered so hard it hurt.
A metallic clang echoed down the corridor.
Sophia’s head snapped up.
But the footsteps that followed weren’t Viper’s.
These were lighter and faster and sharper, a predator’s stride rather than a commander’s.
Her pulse hammered.
The lock clicked. The door creaked open.
A man stepped inside.
Not Viper.
Tall. Lean. A black bandana over his face. And on his right hand, the hand he used to grab her arm, a tattoo.
A spiderweb.
Her stomach dropped.
Switchblade’s killer.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t look at her face. He yanked a black hood over her head, the fabric swallowing the light, the air, the world.
Sophia gasped, the sudden darkness suffocating.
“Move,” he growled.
He dragged her out of the cage, rougher than Viper ever had, her feet scraping the concrete. She stumbled, disoriented, unable to see, unable to breathe right.
Her milagro charm ripped from her fingers as she tried to brace herself.
She didn’t feel it fall.
She didn’t hear it hit the floor.
She only felt the darkness closing in.
She couldn’t see. Couldn’t tell where she was being taken. The hood muffled everything: sound, air, direction.
Her world became hands on her arms, cold concrete under her feet, the scrape of a door, a change in temperature, a shift in the smell, less damp and more chemical. A hum of machinery somewhere distant.
She wasn’t in the same place anymore.
That realization hit harder than the cold.
The hood was yanked off, light stabbing into her eyes.
They had dragged her across the compound again, and she could feel the shift in air, the brief bite of cold, the crunch of gravel under their boots, but not far. Just another building. Another layer of hell inside the same fenced yard.
The room they shoved her into was unfamiliar, colder and harsher, the air sharp with bleach and metal. Worse than the cage. Worse than anything she’d imagined.
A single flickering bulb overhead. A slow drip somewhere deeper in the room, not the same rhythm as before.
They zip-tied her wrists again. The plastic bit into her skin.
The man with the spiderweb tattoo shoved her forward and stepped back into the shadows, leaving her for Viper.
He looked different this time, more unhinged. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscle twitch. Rage radiated off him in waves, thick enough to choke on.
He circled her slowly, boots scraping against the floor in a rhythm that made her stomach twist.
“You know,” he said, voice almost casual, “I’ve been thinking.”
Sophia swallowed hard. “About what?”
He stopped behind her. She felt his breath against her neck, hot and sour, too close.
“I know what Reyes saw. I know he tried to get to the Saints before my guys took him down. But what did he tell you?”
“I don’t know anything,” she whispered.
Viper slammed his hands on the back of her chair. The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot. Sophia jerked violently, heart slamming against her ribs.
“Wrong answer.”
He moved around to face her. His eyes were flat, dead, but burning with something feral underneath, something that made her blood run cold.
“You know what I think?” he said. “I think Reyes told you something. I think you’re lying to me. And I think the Saints are stupid enough to come for you.”
Sophia’s heart lurched. “They will.”
Viper’s smile vanished.
He crouched in front of her, gripping her chin hard enough to add to her bruises. His fingers dug in just enough to make her gasp, not enough to injure, but enough to terrify.
“And when they do,” he murmured, leaning in until she could feel the heat of his breath, “I’m going to make them regret it.”
Sophia’s pulse spiked. “Grim will kill you.”
Viper’s grip tightened, jerking her face upward. “Grim is going to watch you die before he even gets close.”
Her stomach dropped. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” he hissed.
He released her abruptly, pacing in front of her like a man trying to hold himself together and failing. His boots echoed off the walls, each step sharp and unpredictable. He raked a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, then spun back toward her with a suddenness that made her flinch.
“Last chance,” he snapped. “What did Reyes tell you?”
Sophia’s voice trembled despite her best efforts. “Nothing. He didn’t tell me anything.”
Viper stared at her for a long moment — too long. The silence stretched until her skin crawled.
Then he laughed, a low, humorless sound that made her stomach twist.
“You’re either the bravest woman I’ve ever met,” he said, “or the stupidest.”
He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper that scraped down her spine.
“And I’m going to enjoy finding out which.”
He nodded to his men.
“Put her back.”
They moved instantly. One grabbed the back of the chair while another stepped in and sliced through the zip ties binding her wrists to the armrests. The plastic snapped, burning her skin as her arms came free.
She didn’t get a second to react. Hands clamped around her upper arms and yanked her out of the chair so hard her feet skidded across the floor. The chair clattered behind them, forgotten.
Cold air hit her face as they dragged her through the doorway and out into the night. Gravel crunched under their boots. Sophia stumbled, barely catching herself before her knees buckled.
They didn’t slow. One man jerked her forward, another shoving from behind, hauling her across another strip of pavement within the compound. She couldn’t see the buildings, but she could feel them; close, looming, all part of the same place.
Her breath hitched. “No—wait—”
But they were already dragging her again, through turns she couldn’t track, down hallways that smelled different. Colder. Emptier.
Another building. Another corridor. Still the same compound, just deeper and darker and farther from any sound that might reach her.
She tried to count steps. Tried to orient herself. Tried to stay conscious.
It didn’t matter.
She was lost.
A door screeched open. Hands shoved her forward. Concrete bit into her knees.
The hood was ripped off.
She blinked against the dim light.
A cage.
Not the same one.
Smaller. Colder. Bars closer together. No dripping water this time — just silence.
But her mind, already unraveling, didn’t register the difference.
It was just another box.
Another place to disappear.
They shoved her inside and slammed the door. The lock clicked with a finality that made her knees buckle.
Sophia hit the floor hard, palms scraping against the cold concrete. The sound of the lock echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the walls, stretching into something that felt endless.
She crawled to the bars, gripping them with shaking hands.
“Please,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Please don’t leave me here.”
But the men were already walking away, their footsteps fading, fading, fading until they were swallowed by the dark.
The lights dimmed. The corridor fell silent. The cold crept back in, sliding over her skin like a second layer.
Sophia pressed her forehead to the bars, breath trembling. The metal was freezing, biting into her skin. She didn’t pull away.
She couldn’t.
The silence was worse than the footsteps. Worse than Viper’s voice. Worse than the interrogation room.
At least there, someone spoke. Here, there was nothing.
Nothing but silence and cold. Nothing but the dark pressing in from all sides.
She wrapped her arms around herself, but it didn’t help. The cage was too small to stretch out, too narrow to lie down comfortably, too dark to see more than a few inches in front of her.
Her breath fogged in the air.
She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t helpless. But she was terrified.
The isolation clawed at her mind, whispering things she didn’t want to hear.
Her family had been loud, messy, impossible to ignore. This silence felt like death — like she was disappearing one breath at a time.
What if Maddox doesn’t find you?
She’d always been the one who found others, the one who fixed things, who held everyone together. She didn’t know how to be the one waiting to be saved.
What if he’s too late? What if he thinks you’re already dead? What if you die here alone?
Her chest tightened. She pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from sobbing.
The cage felt smaller. The air felt thinner. The darkness felt alive.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to stay grounded, trying not to let the panic swallow her whole.
Her voice wouldn’t come. The fear was too tight, too sharp, too close. But the thought rose anyway, desperate and quiet.
Maddox… please don’t let me disappear.
The darkness swallowed the thought whole.
She didn’t know if anyone was coming. She didn’t know if anyone even knew she was alive. But she prayed he was out there, fighting his way toward her.
Because if he didn’t… if he didn’t… She wasn’t sure she’d survive the dark.
She wasn’t afraid of dying. She was afraid of dying unheard.