Page 54 of Rescuing Sophia

I take a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself. With trembling hands, I wipe away my tears. It’s time to destroy everything I’ve come to love. Each step from here leads me further from the life I’ve grown to cherish and closer to a future I can barely bring myself to contemplate.

There’s no choice, not really.

Luke needs me.

That night, I chop vegetables for dinner. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board steadies my thoughts. Blake stands nearby, sipping a glass of water, his presence grounding me in the moment.

“You’re quiet tonight.” He leans against the counter. “Everything okay?”

“Just thinking, that’s all.” I force a smile, focusing on the task at hand.

He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch sending a shiver through me. I linger in the moment, committing the warmth of his hand and the intensity of his gaze to memory.

After dinner, we retire to bed, the familiar comfort of our routine wrapping around us. I sink deep into my submission, seeking the solace and security it brings. Blake’s arms, strong and reassuring, envelop me as we make love—a tender, quiet connection that leaves me aching.

In the darkness, I trace the lines of his face with my fingers, memorizing every angle and detail. He catches my hand and presses a kiss to my palm.

“You sure you’re okay?” Concern fills his voice.

I swallow the lump in my throat and offer a soft smile. “I’m fine. Just… happy to be here with you.”

He holds me close, his breath warm against my skin as sleep takes him. I lie awake, fighting back tears, knowing these moments are limited, that soon, I’ll betray the man who has shown me nothing but love and kindness.

Blake will never forgive me, but at least he’ll be alive to hate me.

But the thought of Luke, alone and scared, steels my resolve. I have no choice.

The next morning, the alarm on my phone vibrates silently under my pillow, rousing me from a fitful sleep. Blake’s arm drapes over my waist, his breath warm on my neck. For a moment, I allow myself to sink into his embrace, savoring the comfort and safety I feel in his arms.

But duty calls, and with it comes a familiar knot of dread in my stomach.

Carefully, I extricate myself from his hold, my movements slow and deliberate to avoid waking him. As I pad over to the dresser, the hardwood floor is cool beneath my bare feet.

I find Blake’s ID badge where he always leaves it. The metal is smooth and innocuous in my hand, but it feels as heavy as lead.

I slip the badge into the pocket of my robe and make my way to the kitchen. As I go through the motions of making coffee, my mind races with the tasks ahead. The invigorating aroma of coffee fills the air, a cruel mockery of the regular morning routine I’ve come to cherish.

By the time Blake stumbles into the kitchen, sleep-rumpled and adorably confused, I’ve hidden his badge in a book on the bookshelf. Guilt churns in my stomach as he searches for his badge. His frustration grows with each passing minute.

SEVENTEEN

Blake

“Sophia?”I call out, my voice tinged with frustration. “Have you seen my ID?”

Her voice drifts in from the kitchen, amusement clear in her tone. “Did you check the dresser? You know, where you always leave it?”

“Of course I did,” I grumble, running a hand through my hair. “It’s not there.”

I never misplace my badge. Never.

“Are you sure?” Sophia’s footsteps approach, growing louder with each step. “You’re usually such a creature of habit.”

I check the dresser—again—pulling open drawers with increasing urgency.

“I’m telling you, it’s not here.”

The contents of each drawer—neatly folded clothes and organized accessories—mock me as I search. My movements become more frantic, and I toss items aside with growing frustration.

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