7. Sophie
Sophie
Ifocus on the road, trying very hard not to think about what’s waiting for me.
It doesn’t work. By the time Sentinel’s headquarters comes into view, I’m gripping the wheel so hard my hands have started to hurt.
It’s been two weeks since the gala. Two weeks since I kissed the wrong alpha and let the real target slip through my fingers. Since then, nothing but radio silence from Griffin, being pulled from every assignment, and sitting alone in my apartment with my own thoughts.
I hate it. I hate every second of it.
I knew the rules. I’ve known them for a decade.
Never go to the target’s room. Always maintain control of the environment.
Never put yourself in a position where you can’t be extracted.
In all the time I’ve worked for Sentinel, I’ve never fucked up like this.
I’ve dismantled trafficking rings and pulled omegas out of situations most people wouldn’t survive.
I’ve been stabbed, shot at, drugged, but I always, always completed the mission.
Until now.
At least they still got Zimmer. Griffin had to scramble, assign a different agent, set up an entirely new operation, but they got him. He’s in Sentinel’s basement now, where he belongs. And thank God they did, because I don’t know how I would have lived with myself otherwise.
I finally drag myself out of the car and head inside.
The lobby is quiet at this hour. I nod to the receptionist, swipe into the restricted elevator, and descend two levels to the part of Sentinel that officially doesn’t exist. The interrogation rooms are down here, the surveillance hub, the armory.
The elevator doors open onto a corridor of reinforced steel and muted lighting. I walk past the tech center, banks of computers where Declan’s team monitors everything from traffic cameras to satellite feeds, and turn left toward the conference rooms.
They’re already waiting for me.
Griffin stands at the head of the long table, arms crossed, his dark eyes finding me the moment I walk through the door.
Nolan leans against the wall near the door, his permanent frown somehow even deeper than usual.
Declan sits at the table, chin resting on his hands, watching me with something that might be sympathy if I squint.
“Sophie.” Griffin’s voice is clipped.
I fold my arms across my chest, mirroring his stance.
I can practically feel their disappointment from across the room. Somehow, I’d rather be facing down armed traffickers than this.
“You should’ve known better, Soph.” Declan’s voice is gentler than Griffin’s, which somehow makes it worse.
I hold up a hand before anyone else can speak.
“Look, before you start, let me go first.” I take a breath, forcing myself to meet their eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for fucking up. I’m sorry for wasting Sentinel’s resources and everyone’s time.
I feel...” The words stick in my throat.
Apologies have never come easily to me. “I really, truly feel awful about it. And I promise it won’t happen again. ”
Griffin’s expression doesn’t change. “Sophie, this isn’t about wasting resources.”
I blink. “Then why are you angry?”
“You knew the rules,” Nolan says from his position by the door, his voice low and rough. “Never go into someone else’s room. Why did you do it?”
The question hangs in the air. I feel my cheeks heat with shame and frustration, and with the memory of that moonlit terrace and the way Finn looked at me.
“I wanted to get him.” The excuse is thin and everyone in the room knows it. “After what he did to Cindy, I couldn’t let him get away. And when he suggested his room instead of mine, I thought if I insisted, he’d get suspicious. I thought I could handle it.”
“Bullshit.” Griffin’s voice cracks like a whip. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You walked into an unknown environment with no backup and no way to be pulled out if it went wrong. You don’t know what could have happened to you.”
For a moment, his mask slips. Underneath the cold authority, there’s fear. Genuine fear.
They’re not angry because I failed the mission, but because I could have gotten myself killed.
Which only pisses me off more.
“I can take care of myself,” I scoff. “I’ve been doing it for ten years. I realized my mistake quickly and I left. No harm done. He was just some random guy at a gala, Griff. Nothing happened.”
Nothing happened. Just a kiss that meant nothing, with a man who meant nothing, and I really, really need to stop thinking about it.
“Nothing happened this time.” Griffin uncrosses his arms. “But something could have. And you know it.”
“I promise it won’t happen again.”
“We need more than a promise.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Griffin cuts me off by sliding a folder across the table toward me.
“We’re putting you on another mission. Ever heard of Pack Cavill?”
I frown, searching my memory. The name is vaguely familiar, glossy magazine covers, gossip columns, the kind of alphas who get photographed at society events and yacht parties. “What, those billionaire playboy alphas who run that company that makes sex toys?”
Declan snorts out a laugh. “Yep, that’s them.”
“Synthera produces medical devices for heat and rut management,” Nolan clarifies, though his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Suppressants. Regulation tools. It’s legitimate pharmaceutical work.”
“Someone broke into their facility a couple of days ago,” Griffin continues. “They need to find out who’s behind it and why. They’ve hired us to investigate.”
A cold dread settles in my stomach.
“You seriously can’t mean me.”
“We seriously mean you.”
“You can’t put me on that mission.” I stare at him, incredulous. “So now I’m supposed to figure out who’s breaking into some alpha’s office to steal their vibrators? This is beneath me, Griffin. I’m your best agent—”
“Which is exactly why you’re on leave.” Griffin’s voice goes flat.
“You’re burned out, Sophie. You’ve been running missions back-to-back for a decade without so much as a weekend off.
You made a mistake that could have gotten you killed, and you’re standing here arguing with me about it instead of asking yourself why it happened.
” He holds my gaze, unflinching. “This is non-negotiable. Either you take this assignment and prove you can follow orders again, or you’re off active duty for the next year. ”
“A year?”
“You haven’t taken a break in ten years. Consider it mandatory recovery time.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” My voice rises despite my best efforts to keep it level. “I’m the best operative you have, and you’re putting me on glorified security guard duty?”
Declan snorts again. Nolan actually laughs, a short, rough sound that earns him a sharp look from Griffin.
“Pack Cavill is willing to pay a significant amount to solve this,” Griffin says, ignoring them both. “Money we need to fund operations here. And you’re perfectly suited for the job.”
“How?”
“You’ll go undercover as their personal assistant. Live in the staff quarters on the estate. Observe their employees, check for listening devices, monitor communications. Find out who’s leaking information and to whom.”
“A personal assistant.” I repeat it slowly, feeling slightly sick. “You want me to be a personal assistant.”
Griffin looks back at me, unmoved. “I want you to find the mole.”
“How long?”
“As long as it takes to identify the mole. Once you do, you’re back on active rotation.”
I let out a slow breath, running through my options. Refuse and spend a year climbing the walls of my apartment, going slowly insane. Accept and spend God knows how long playing assistant to three arrogant billionaire alphas who probably think omegas exist to fetch their coffee.
Neither option is appealing. But at least one of them ends with me back in the field.
I try to picture Pack Cavill. I only vaguely remember what they look like. Three alphas, obscenely wealthy, disgustingly handsome. The kind who smile for cameras and probably have omegas throwing themselves at their feet.
Arrogant twats, the lot of them.
“Fine.” I hear myself say it before I’ve fully decided. “When do I start?”
“In two days.” Griffin’s expression is unreadable, but I could swear I see the ghost of satisfaction in his eyes.
“They want this resolved quickly, and so do we. Report to the Synthera estate at nine AM. Your cover identity has already been established. You’re Sophie Dysart, a temp from an executive staffing agency. ”
“You better keep your word, Griffin.” I meet his gaze steadily. “Because I’m going to crack this case in record time.”
Declan grins. “Looking forward to it.”
“So am I,” Griffin says, and this time he does almost smile. “Now get out of my office. You have packing to do.”
I turn on my heel and head for the door, my mind already racing through logistics. What to bring. What cover story to memorize.
I’m halfway down the corridor when Declan catches up with me.
“Sophie. Wait.”
I pause, turning. He’s got that look on his face, the one that means he’s about to say something sincere, which always makes me uncomfortable.
“For what it’s worth,” he says quietly, “we’re not trying to punish you. We’re trying to keep you alive.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He tilts his head, and I have a feeling those eyes are seeing more than I want him to. “Because the Sophie I know doesn’t make mistakes like the one you made at that gala. And I’m wondering what changed.”
“Nothing changed,” I say, and I sound defensive even to my own ears. “I’ll be fine, Declan. It’s just babysitting duty. How hard can it be?”
He doesn’t answer. But as I walk away, I can feel his eyes on my back, and I know he’s not convinced.
And to be honest, neither am I.