Page 88 of Rescuing Sophia

His words are true, but for now, I cling to this small victory. It’s a reminder that even in the depths of despair, I can still fight and win something, however small. The pain, the darkness, the humiliation—they haven’t broken me completely.

Not yet.

I’m done with that wretched wall and avoid it like the plague, but my torment has only begun.

The days blur together in a haze of fear and forced compliance. Every degrading task Malfor demands is punctuated by the sting of his lash, leaving angry red marks, welts, and cuts on my skin.

The pain is his sadistic signature, a brutal reminder that I belong to him, but it’s the weight of his cold, calculating gaze that presses hardest on me.

When it’s finally over, I collapse onto the cold floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and pain. My skin is bruised and tender to the touch. Each movement sends sharp stabs of agony through my muscles. The evidence of his cruelty is etched in every wince, every shallow breath, and the way my body betrays me with each trembling step.

THIRTY-ONE

Blake

The ready roomdoor swings open under my touch, the familiar click of the latch echoing in the sudden silence. Every eye in the room turns to me. Exhaustion and determination fill their faces. The air is thick with tension and the acrid smell of too much coffee.

Alpha team huddles around one end of the long table, Max’s imposing figure bent over a stack of reports. At the other end, Brady and his Bravo team pore over a map, their hushed whispers a constant undercurrent. My team is scattered throughout the room, each lost in their preparations.

I make my way to an empty chair, greeting Gabe and Walt. The dark circles under their eyes mirror my own, a testament to the sleepless nights we’ve all endured. As I sit, I catch sight of Mitzy and her tech team in the corner. Stitch’s fingers fly over her keyboard while Jeb’s eyes never leave the screens before them.

At the head of the table, Ethan stands with Sam and CJ, their hushed conversation breaking off as I approach. Forest Summers looms behind them, his presence a reminder of the gravity of our situation.

Sam straightens, his eyes sweeping the room. The low hum of conversation dies away as he clears his throat.

“Alright, people. Let’s get started.” His voice carries the weight of command, cutting through the tension. “We’ve been at this for days now, and I know we’re all feeling the pressure, but we can’t afford to rush this. We do this right, or we don’t do it at all. Understood?”

A chorus of affirmatives ripples through the room. I force myself to nod, even as impatience gnaws at my insides. Every moment we spend here is another moment Sophia’s in danger. But Ethan’s right. We can’t afford mistakes.

“Good. Now, status updates. Max, what’s Alpha got?”

Max pushes away from the table, his jaw set in frustration. “We’ve run down every lead on Greaves. Nothing. It’s like the bastard’s gone completely off the grid.”

“Europe’s not looking any better,” Brady chimes in, his fingers drumming a restless tattoo on the table. “Our contacts have been working overtime, but it’s all smoke and mirrors. Greaves is covering his tracks well.”

My fists clench involuntarily, nails digging into my palms. I force them to relax, focusing on my breathing the way Ethan taught me.

Control. I need to maintain control.

Ethan’s eyes find mine, a silent question in their depths. “Blake? Anything new on your end?”

I shake my head, the motion sharp despite my efforts to remain calm. “Nothing concrete. We’ve been through Sophia’s apartment, her locker, every place she frequented. No new messages, no hidden clues. Just—nothing.”

The word hangs in the air, heavy with all our collective disappointments. I see the same frustration mirrored in the faces around me. We’re all feeling it, this maddening sense of running in circles while time slips away.

But we can’t give up. Sophia’s counting on us. And I’ll be damned if I let her down.

Stitch’s eyes dart across her screen. She looks up, confusion etched on her face. “Mitzy, I’m receiving a data stream from one of our bumblebee drones.” Stitch’s fingers fly over her keyboard. “It’s sending video.”

The room erupts in a flurry of movement. Chairs scrape against the floor as everyone surges forward, the air suddenly electric with anticipation.

Sam’s deep voice cuts through the chaos. “Find out where it’s transmitting from.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to the main screen as it flickers to life. A grainy image appears, and my breath catches in my throat. The main screen flickers to life, displaying a map with a blinking red dot.

“It’s in Montenegro.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, tension ratcheting up another notch. Montenegro. We have a location.

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