Page 95 of Rescuing Sophia

We talk quietly, sharing what little information we have. Two captives, bound by circumstance, finding a small measure of solace in each other’s company. But Malfor, ever vigilant, isn’t far away. Wehear his heavy footsteps approaching, and the woman quickly hides the phone and slips out of the room.

Days pass in a haze of pain and fear. Violet returns each day to tend to my wounds, her gentle hands so different from Malfor’s cruelty. We develop a system of communication through looks and subtle gestures, conveying what we can’t say aloud.

One evening, as Violet changes my bandages, her hands tremble slightly. Her eyes dart to the door more frequently than usual, and there’s a tightness around her mouth that wasn’t there before.

“What’s wrong?” I mouth silently when she meets my gaze.

She shakes her head minutely, but there’s fear in her eyes. Something’s changed, and not for the better. As she finishes her work, she presses something into my hand—a small piece of paper. I curl my fingers around it, hiding it from view.

That night, when I’m sure I’m alone, I unfold the paper. In tiny, cramped writing, it reads:“Malfor plans to move you soon. Be ready.”

My heart races. Move me where? I swallow hard, trying to push down the panic rising in my throat. I have to stay calm, stay focused. For Luke.

The next day, Violet brings me food—a luxury I haven’t been afforded often. As she sets down the tray, she leans close, pretending to adjust my blanket.

“Eat,” she whispers. “You’ll need your strength.”

Whatever’s coming, I need to be as prepared as possible. As I eat, I study Violet more closely. There’s something in her eyes, a determination beyond mere sympathy for a fellow captive. She’s risking a lot to help me, but why?

There’s no time to ask because she’s already slipping out of the room. Her visits are always brief—she can’t afford to linger.

That night, Violet returns with her phone.

“We don’t have much time,” she says urgently, her voice barely above a whisper. “Malfor’s out, but he won’t be gone long.”

She shows me another video of Luke, this time with a beautiful raven-haired girl of about seven years old I don’t recognize. My son looks unharmed, playing quietly.

“Who is she?” I ask, my eyes fixed on the screen.

Violet’s voice catches as she replies, “She’s my daughter… Zephyr.”

The name strikes me as unusual and beautiful. I look up at Violet, seeing the love and pain in her eyes as she watches the video.

“Your daughter?” I’m confused, with a hundred questions bubbling up inside me.

She nods, her eyes never leaving the screen. “Yes. I-I lost her a long time ago, but she’s safe now—like Luke.”

I reach out, grasping Violet’s hand. “Thank you,” I whisper fervently. “For showing me this. But, Violet, why? Why are you risking so much?”

Violet’s eyes meet mine, filled with determination and fear. “Because I know what it’s like to be separated from your child. Not knowing if they’re safe or if you’ll ever see them again. No mother should have to go through that.”

Her words hit me hard, and tears well up in my eyes.

“How did you end up here?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

Violet glances at the door, then back at me. She takes a deep breath as if steeling herself. “It’s a long story, but I think… I think you need to know.”

She settles beside me, her voice dropping even lower. “Like you, I was taken years ago when I was barely more than a girl myself. They—they used me as a surrogate.”

My breath catches in my throat. The horror of what she’s saying sinks in slowly.

“Zephyr,” Violet continues, her voice trembling slightly, “she wasn’t supposed to be mine. She was a surrogate birth, a job, nothing more. But the moment I felt her kick inside me, I knew I couldn’t let her be just another commodity.”

She pauses, lost in the memory. I squeeze her hand, encouraging her to continue.

I listen intently, my eyes drawn to the beautiful raven-haired girl in the video. There’s a glimmer of recognition in the way Zephyr moves, something about her spirit that echoes the woman’s own quiet strength.

“The client contracted with Malfor for a child, but he wanted ason. When Zephyr was born, Malfor was not pleased. I was terrified of what would happen to her. The client… Something happened to him. I don’t know the details, but I think Malfor might have had something to do with it. For whatever reason, Malfor kept Zephyr. I can only assume he has plans for her, plans that terrify me.”

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