Page 82 of Rescuing Sophia

“Yes, sir,” I manage the words, but they taste like ash.

Malfor circles me slowly like a predator sizing up its prey. “You know, Jonathan spoke quite highly of you. Said you were his favorite. His perfect, obedient little doll.”

The mention of Greaves makes my skin crawl. I can’t help but look up, meeting Malfor’s gaze for a split second before I realize my mistake.

The backhand comes out of nowhere, the crack of flesh on flesh echoing in the cavernous room. Pain explodes across my face, white-hot and blinding. I crash to the floor, my hair spilling around me like a halo. For a moment, the pain is my entire universe.

“You dare look at me?” Malfor’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears, low and dangerous. “You will show proper respect. Eyes down. Kneel.”

I struggle to my knees, my body responding before my mind can process the command.

“Better.” Malfor’s lips curve into a slow, predatory smile as he circles me, his gaze like a blade, slicing through any remaining shred of defiance. “Now, let me make something crystal clear. You are nothing here. Less than nothing. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will obey without question. You will bow, kneel, and scrape before your betters. Which, my dear, is everyone.”

My thoughts race to Luke. The urge to ask about my son, to beg for any information, is overwhelming. I swallow the words, remembering the sting of Malfor’s hand.

Malfor’s fingers grip my chin, forcing my head up. His watery eyes peer into my very soul. “Ah, thinking of the boy, are we? If you’re a good girl, if you please me, perhaps I’ll allow you to see him. Not in person, of course, but… Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He releases me with a shove, turning to bark orders at someone I can’t see. For the first time, I become aware of others in the room.Men in crisp suits stand at attention, their faces impassive. Among them move women in flowing, gauzy gowns that leave little to the imagination. Their eyes are downcast, their movements subservient.

“Take her to her room,” Malfor commands. “Make sure she understands the—consequences of disobedience.”

Rough hands grab my arms, hauling me to my feet. As I’m dragged away, Malfor’s voice follows me. “Welcome to your new home, Sophia. I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay. It’s going to be a long one.”

The journey to my “room” is a blur of opulent hallways and stern-faced guards. Everything is pristine, almost sterile in its perfection. It’s a stark contrast to the darkness that clings to every corner, refusing to be chased away by the light. Even as the room brightens, the shadows only deepen, a reminder that no amount of light can erase the pervasive darkness lurking just beneath the surface.

We descend a flight of stairs, the temperature dropping with each step. The guards’ grips tighten, their fingers digging painfully into my arms. They stop before a heavy metal door at the end of a long corridor.

With a brutal shove, I’m thrust into a cell. I stumble, crashing hard onto the cold stone floor. The door slams shut behind me, and metal bolts grind into place, their harsh clicks echoing through the small space, sealing my fate. The bitter scent of damp stone fills my lungs as the final lock snaps shut, leaving me with only the oppressive silence.

The “room” is little more than a glorified cage. Cold stone walls surround me, devoid of any warmth or comfort. A narrow bed—little more than a cot—sits in one corner. A small bathroom area offers no privacy, the facilities exposed for all to see. There are no windows, no sense of the outside world. Just four walls and the crushing weight of my new reality.

I curl up on the bed, my body aching from the rough treatment and Malfor’s “correction.” In the darkness, I allow myself one moment of weakness. Tears fall silently, mourning the life I’ve lost and the uncertain future ahead.

As I lie there, the full weight of my situation crashes over me.I’ve betrayed everyone I care about. Blake, the team, all of Guardian HQ. The image of Blake’s expression when he realizes what I’ve done… It’s almost too much to bear.

I cling to the hope that they’ll find the messages I left, that somehow they’ll understand, that Blake will forgive me, and that he’ll rescue me. But the thought feels like a distant dream. This fortress is impenetrable, and my situation is beyond hopeless.

The bumblebee drone, tucked safely in the lining of my jacket, is my lifeline. I’ve guarded it, knowing it’s my one link to the outside world, my one chance at… What?

Rescue?

Redemption?

The weight of it is a constant reminder that, even here, there’s still a sliver of hope.

But is it hope or delusion?

I assume I’m being watched. Malfor doesn’t seem the type to leave anything to chance. With trembling hands, I reach into the hidden pocket I sewed into my clothes. The drone is there, no bigger than my thumbnail. It feels impossibly tiny, impossibly fragile against my palm.

I take a deep breath and go to the small bathroom area. If there are cameras, this might be the one blind spot. I cup the drone, bringing it close to my lips. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure it must be audible, even through the thick stone walls.

“Find them,” I whisper so softly I can barely hear myself. “Find Blake.”

Rescue me…

The words feel foolish as soon as they leave my lips.

Can this tiny machine even hear me?

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