Page 62 of Rescuing Sophia

“You’re trying my patience, girl. Better get it right this time.”

The pressure builds with each passing moment. My breathing becomes shallow, and my chest is tight with anxiety. I force myself to focus, to shut out everything but the code and Malfor’s voice.

Finally, after an eternity, I input the last character correctly. I slump, utterly drained. My hand shakes as I reach for the phone, awaiting the next command.

“Good.”Malfor’s approval does nothing to ease the knot in my stomach.“Now, onto the next step. You need to demagnetize your badge. Hold it against the server tower for ten seconds. The electromagnetic field will do the job.”

My hand shakes as I press my badge against the cool metal of the server. One Mississippi, two Mississippi…

“Done,” I whisper.

“Good. Now go back upstairs to HR. Tell them your badge isn’t working. Say it’s demagnetized. They’ll reissue it, and when they do, that code will clone Blake’s access onto yours.”

The plan clicks into place. My stomach churns. “I understand.”

“Don’t screw this up.”Malfor’s voice cuts through the line, cold and final, before he hangs up.

I take a deep breath, pocketing both badges. Straightening my clothes, I head back upstairs, rehearsing my lie.

At the HR desk, a different person greets me. “Can I help you?”

I feign frustration, holding out my badge. “My card’s not working. I think it got demagnetized somehow.”

The HR rep nods sympathetically. “No problem, happens sometimes. Let’s get you a new one.”

I watch anxiously as they swipe my badge through a machine. A few keystrokes, a whir of electronics, and then they hand me back a seemingly identical card.

“There you go. All set.”

I force a smile. “Thanks so much.”

Walking away, the weight of what I’ve just done settles over me. In my hand, I now hold the key to all of Guardian HQ—and take another step deeper into betrayal.

“It’s done.” I grip my new badge tightly, feeling every bit the traitor.

“Good. Now get to work before they notice you’re late,”Malfor says, satisfaction coloring his tone.

Late? It’s nearly two in the afternoon. I’m way past late, but the line goes dead. He has no further use for me today.

I hope.

I hurry across the grounds to The Guardian Grind. The lunch rush is in full swing. Jenna’s eyes widen as I burst through the door.

“There you are.” Relief and concern war in her expression. “I was worried sick.”

I force a smile, tying my apron with trembling hands. “Sorry, I-I had some paperwork to fill out. HR stuff.”

The lie tastes bitter. As I move behind the counter, the weight of what I’ve done settles over me. Each smile I give and each order I take feels like a betrayal of everything I hold dear.

And always, always, the fear for my son’s life drives me forward. I’m trapped, a puppet dancing to Malfor’s cruel tune. With each passing moment, the strings only tighten.

The day stretches endlessly, a blur of coffee orders and forced smiles. By closing time, exhaustion weighs on me like a physical thing. I drag myself home, knowing Blake will be waiting.

The thought of facing him, of lying to his face, twists my stomach in knots. But what else can I do? There’s no way out.

When I walk in, Blake’s face lights up when he sees me. That smile—so open, so trusting—hits me like a knife to the heart.

I’m Sophia, the betrayer.

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