Chapter 134: Sophia

Cecilia

My stomach dropped, dread flooding through me as I realized that if Sophia hadn't seen him, if the men who'd grabbed me hadn't brought him here with me—then where the hell was he?

"I need to make a phone call," I said, already swinging my legs over the side of the bed despite my head spun. "Right now. I need to call Arthur, I need to tell him where I am—"

"You can't," Sophia interrupted, her voice apologetic but firm. "Cecilia, there are signal jammers all over this area. No cell service, no internet, nothing. It's how they keep people from calling for help, from contacting the outside world."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, the realization crashing over me that I was completely cut off—no way to reach Arthur, no way to let him know I was alive, no way to warn him about what was happening or ask for help.

"I need to get out of here," I said, standing up despite the dizziness that immediately washed over me, making me grab the edge of the dresser for support. "I need to find my friend, I need to—"

"You can't leave," Sophia said, and there was genuine regret in her voice as she moved closer, reaching out like she wanted to steady me but stopping short when I flinched away. "Cecilia, this whole area is controlled by the boss. There are guards everywhere, checkpoints at every exit, cameras watching the streets. If you try to run, they'll catch you before you make it two blocks."

I stared at her, feeling trapped and helpless and so fucking angry I could barely see straight. "So what, I'm just supposed to sit here? Wait for them to decide what to do with me?"

"I don't know," Sophia admitted, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her own helplessness. "But Cecilia, the boss—he's not entirely evil. I mean, he's definitely not good, but he's not—he hasn't hurt me. He just watches me sometimes, like I said, and then he tells me to go. Maybe if you talked to him, if you explained your situation—"

"You want me to go talk to the man who runs this place?" I interrupted, my voice sharp with disbelief. "The man who's connected to organized crime, who has people trapped here with no way out?"

"I know how it sounds," Sophia said quickly, her words tumbling over each other in her haste to explain. "But what other choice do you have? You can't leave on your own, you can't call for help, and if you want to find out what happened to your friend—the boss might be the only person who can give you answers."

I wanted to argue, wanted to tell her she was insane for even suggesting it, wanted to demand she find me another option that didn't involve walking directly into the lion's den. But the truth was, she was right. I was trapped here with no resources, no allies except maybe Sophia herself, and if I wanted to survive this—if I wanted to find Daniel—I needed to play smart.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth, my jaw clenching so hard it made my head throb worse. "Take me to him."

Sophia's expression shifted into obvious relief, her whole body relaxing slightly like she'd been braced for me to refuse.

"Okay. But Cecilia, please—be careful what you say. The boss is unpredictable. One minute he's almost friendly, the next he's—" She stopped, seeming to search for the right word. "Just be careful."

She led me out of the room and down a narrow hallway that opened into what looked like a main living area—sparse furniture, bare walls, everything functional but impersonal, like a space that existed only for utility rather than comfort. And then she pulled back a curtain covering a window, and I saw it.

Saw what this place really was.

Through the glass, I could see the street below, and my stomach turned at the sight that greeted me.

Neon signs advertising clubs and bars lined both sides of the narrow road, their garish lights reflecting off wet pavement.

Women in clothing that barely qualified as clothing stood on corners or leaned against doorways, their heavily made-up faces visible even from this distance as they called out to passing men.

Groups of men stumbled between establishments with that particular swagger that came from too much alcohol and too much money, their voices carrying up to where I stood frozen in horror.

This wasn't just a criminal stronghold. This was a red-light district—the kind of place most people pretended didn't exist, where human desperation and vice collided in the worst possible ways.

"Jesus Christ," I breathed, my hand coming up to press against the cold glass as I took in the full scope of it. "This is—"

"The underbelly," Sophia finished quietly, coming to stand beside me. "The part of the world most people pretend doesn't exist, that they convince themselves isn't real. But it is real, and it's where people like us end up when we're not careful."

There was something in her voice—a bone-deep weariness, a resignation that spoke of having seen too much, having learned too many hard lessons about how the world really worked beneath its polished surface.

She pulled me away from the window, leading me down a set of stairs that brought us out onto the street itself. The moment we stepped outside, I was hit with the full sensory assault of it.

The smell of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume mixing with something darker, more chemical, the sound of music blaring from open doorways competing with raised voices and harsh laughter, the sight of men leering at us as we passed, their eyes tracking our movement with predatory interest.

I kept my head down and stayed close to Sophia, my skin crawling with the weight of all those eyes on me, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way I'd never experienced before. We walked past club after club, each one seedier than the last, the neon signs growing brighter and more garish the further we went.

Finally we reached the far end of the street where a building stood that was clearly a cut above the rest. It was still a nightclub, still had that same neon-lit exterior, but everything about it screamed expensive in a way the other establishments didn't.

The bouncer at the door was better dressed in an actual suit rather than just a black t-shirt, the women waiting outside were more polished with designer dresses instead of cheap club wear, and the whole place had an air of exclusivity that the other clubs lacked.

The bouncer's eyes raked over me the moment we approached, his gaze lingering in places that made my skin crawl and my hands clench into fists at my sides. "Well, well," he said, his voice dripping with false charm that made me want to take a shower. "What do we have here? Fresh meat?"