Page 105 of Jenna's Protector

At the mention of Sentinel, Sophia’s head lifts. Blake takes a half-step forward, reaching out before catching himself. I hold Jenna closer, feeling her heartbeat against mine, and press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll make them pay for this.” My fingers brush her cheek, tracing the outline of a particularly dark bruise.

I kiss her again, softly, tenderly, then pull her even closer, holding her as if I could shield her from all the pain she’s endured. After a long moment, I gently take her hands in mine, turning them over to look at her wrists. My thumb brushes over the hidden tattoo, barely visible under the UV light.

“Jenna,” I say, my voice softer now, “do you know anything more about this? Aboutshàobingor if the number nine means you were his ninth?”

“Do you have something like this?” Jenna turns to Sophia.

“Mine’s a bit different.” Sophia nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But—it doesn’t mean what you think.”

“What do you mean?” Blake steps closer, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s not about the number of women. It’s Nine…”

“I get that.” I lean in, confusion and annoyance flickering across my face.

“It’s something else. Something bigger.” Sophia’s gaze shifts between Jenna and me, and then she looks down at her wrists.

“He’s a Sentinel. There are nine of them, all with different roles.” Sophia takes a shaky breath. “It doesn’t mean you were the ninth slave he owned. It means he’s the Ninth Sentinel.”

“Ninth Sentinel?” Blake’s eyebrows shoot up. “I thought Sentinel was an organization.”

“No.” Sophia shakes her head. “There are nine Sentinels. He was the Ninth.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, my mind racing.

“Each one has a different role.” Sophia uncurls slightly, her eyes distant. “The Ninth, he deals in human trafficking. The others… I don’t know all of them, but I heard things. One deals with weapons, another with money... They’re…” She grasps at the air as if struggling for an explanation.

“They’re, what?” I ask, gently.

“Disruptors. With a capital D. Their entire purpose is to disrupt the normal state of things.” Sophia curls in on herself as if trying to disappear; her voice is low but clear.

“How do you know all this?” Jenna shifts closer, her hand gently resting on Sophia’s arm.

“Jonathan—got complacent.” Sophia’s fingers twist in the blanket, her gaze distant.

“Jonathan?” Blake steps closer, his expression hardening.

“Jonathan Greaves.” Sophia’s voice trembles as she looks at Jenna, a mix of fear and regret in her eyes. “The Ninth Sentinel.”

“That’s his name? Jonathan Greaves?” I look to Blake, not needing to state the obvious. Sophia is a wealth of information.

“He thought I was broken, that I had no fight left in me. That I didn’t matter anymore. He left me in rooms during meetings or talked on the phone like I wasn’t there. I heard things I shouldn’t have.”

Blake’s jaw clenches, his body angling toward Sophia as if to shield her from an unseen threat.

“There’s more,” Sophia whispers. “There’s someone abovethem all. Jonathan was terrified of him. I heard him begging for more time once, telling Malfor he’d fix it. No matter what.”

Blake and I exchange another glance at the mention of Malfor. We know that name, but now isn’t the time to discuss it.

“Fix what?” Blake asks.

“I don’t know, but it was important, and he was scared.”

“Thank you, Sophia,” I say gently. “This is incredibly helpful.”

Sophia nods, curling back into herself. Blake takes another half-step toward her before stopping, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side.

---