Chapter 126: Cole

I sink into the computer chair, feeling a dull ache flare up in my side where the stitches are still healing. Every movement reminds me that I’ve been pushing too hard, but this—this is too important to let rest. Leo usually handles all the tech stuff, knows the equipment inside and out, but he’s earned the night off. His injuries are healing, but they’re far from perfect, and the last thing he needs is to be cramped in this chair, staring at a screen all night. I’ll take this one.

I flick on the monitors one by one, and the screens blink to life, casting an eerie blue glow around the room. The hum of the computers fills the air, and I start the setup, pulling up the usual programs. Once everything’s good to go, I connect my phone to the main console, feeling it click into place. I pull up Moretti’s number from my messages, the familiar digits burned into my mind after all these weeks of threats and terror.

With a deep breath, I type the number into the tracing software and hit enter, watching as lines of code start rolling across the screen. The system begins doing its thing, pinging towers, rerouting signals, digging through layers of nonsense to get to the real source. It’s slow, but it’s thorough.

The loading bar crawls forward, and I sit up a little straighter, one hand resting on my side to ease the pressure. Finally, the loading screen disappears, and an address pops up.

The screen flashes with the results, and I freeze, staring at it in disbelief. No. That can’t be right.

I lean forward, rubbing a hand over my face and blinking, trying to shake off the exhaustion, the dull ache pulsing through my side. I must’ve misread it. There’s no way this is accurate. I take a steadying breath and run the trace again, fingers moving faster this time, nerves kicking in. The numbers shift, the loading bar creeps forward, and then—same result.

A cold wave of panic starts rising in me, crawling up my spine, tightening in my chest. I sit there, staring at the screen, my mind racing, heart pounding harder than it should.

_No._ This can’t be real.

I push back from the computer, my hands trembling slightly. My mind spins as I try to process what’s in front of me, every instinct screaming that something’s horribly, horribly wrong.

I push back from the computer, stumbling to my feet, panic tearing through me like a live wire. There’s no way. This can’t be happening. I try to breathe, to steady myself, but my hands are shaking, and the realization keeps crashing over me like a relentless tide.

I close my eyes for a second, trying to find some kind of calm. Calm means clarity, and clarity means safety for her. I can’t make mistakes right now. But no matter how much I try to force the panic down, it surges back up, raw and vicious, fueled by something deeper than fear—something like love.

I’ve known it for a while now, but standing here, gut twisted with terror, it hits me all over again: I love her. I loved her from the first time I heard her voice crackle through the mic at her parents’ place, back when all I had was her voice and her courage. The first time I held her, felt her relax in my arms, I knew I’d protect her with everything I had. And just a few days ago… that night we finally let down every wall between us, let everything we felt rise to the surface.

I can still feel the warmth of her skin, her naked body on top of mine, the way she looked at me, trusted me, let me in. I remember how good she felt as I trusted back and forth, her soft moans music to my ears. She was everything I didn’t know I needed, and now the thought of losing her—of him taking her from me—turns my stomach.

The fear twists into rage, hot and furious, but no amount of anger makes the panic go away. I can’t lose her. Not like this, not to him.

My heart's racing as I make my way to the front door, forcing myself to take deep breaths, trying to calm the chaotic surge of panic. I’ve been in tough spots before, seen things that would make anyone’s skin crawl, but I’ve never felt like this. This fear, this raw desperation—it’s clawing at me, unrelenting.

I step outside, eyes scanning the empty street, the shadows stretching across the lawn. But there’s nothing. No movement, no sign of anyone. Just stillness, silence. I let out a shaky breath, confusion settling in as I turn back and close the door.

And then I see it.

A phone sits on the coffee table, placed there with a precision that makes my skin prickle. I didn’t hear it ring. None of us left anything out here. Slowly, I walk over and pick it up, my breath catching as the screen lights up.

The lock screen shows a photo of Sofia, looking peaceful, smiling. My blood runs cold, a wave of nausea hitting me as I stare down at her face, captured there like some twisted trophy. It’s a picture I’ve never seen before, a side of her that only we should know.

Suddenly, I feel a presence behind me, a faint whisper slicing through the silence.

“Good night, Cole.”

Before I can turn, a sharp pain hits the back of my head and my side simultaneously, and the world tilts, blurring. Darkness seeps in at the edges, and the last thing I see is that photo of Sofia, her soft, trusting smile. And then everything goes black.