Chapter 127: Sofia

I drift awake slowly, the soft sounds of movement pulling me from sleep. Blinking, I see Nate and Leo moving quietly around the room, pulling on shirts and lacing up their shoes. Still half-asleep, I push myself up a bit, rubbing my eyes. “Where are you going?” I mumble, my voice thick with sleep.

Nate glances over, offering a reassuring smile. “Riley and Danny need help bringing some stuff in,” he says softly. “They’re in the garage, so we’ll meet them there for a bit. Thought we’d get a quick workout in after that too. We’ll be back soon.”

I nod, settling back against the pillows, feeling the warmth of the bed and the lingering comfort of sleep. “Okay,” I murmur, my voice trailing off as I pull the blanket up around me.

As they head for the door, I smile to myself, reaching down and rubbing a gentle hand over my belly. It’s barely anything yet, just a soft little curve, but I can feel it, that small, almost magical difference. The thought of the life growing inside me makes me feel a warmth I can’t quite explain. Our little one.

I must’ve drifted back to sleep, because the next thing I know, I feel the bed dip beside me. I turn over instinctively, eyes still closed, reaching out to snuggle closer, thinking it’s Cole.

“I missed you, Cole,” I mumble softly, half-asleep.

A low, twisted laugh answers me, slicing through the quiet. My eyes snap open, heart pounding as I inhale sharply, the sickening blend of cologne, sweat, and blood filling my senses. I try to scream, but a rough hand clamps down over my mouth, silencing me before I can even take a breath.

It’s him.

Moretti looms over me, a sick, twisted smile on his face, and I feel a chill unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. He’s barely recognizable—dark, swollen circles under his bloodshot eyes, his face shadowed with an untrimmed beard. His once-clean suit is crumpled and smeared with dirt, his gaze feral, hungry. Whatever handsomeness he may have once had is gone, replaced by a terrifying, hollow shell of a man who looks like he hasn’t slept in days, maybe weeks.

“Shhh…” he whispers, his grip tightening as he pins me down with one hand, leaning closer until his face is only inches from mine. “Did you really think they could keep you from me?”

Every nerve in my body screams to fight, to thrash, but his hand presses harder against my mouth, his fingers digging into my skin. I stare into his face, my mind racing with horror as I realize just how far gone he is.

Moretti’s face inches closer, his hot, rancid breath washing over me, and I feel my skin crawl. He shifts his hand slightly, his fingers brushing over my cheek, and the look in his eyes is worse than anything I could’ve imagined—cold, empty, with just enough cruelty to make my stomach twist with fear. I try to turn my head away, to escape the weight of his gaze, but his grip tightens, forcing me to look right into those hollow, bloodshot eyes.

“I tried to be a gentleman,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with bitterness, a twisted mockery of tenderness. “I tried to offer you a life you’d only dream of. But you…” He chuckles darkly, his mouth inches from my neck. “You chose them. Those pathetic, dirty rats.”

Before I can even process his words, he leans down, his tongue trailing slowly along my neck, leaving a slick, sickening trail that makes me shudder in disgust. I feel the bile rise in my throat, and I struggle, a muffled whimper escaping beneath his hand. He laughs softly, the sound cruel, enjoying every flicker of fear, every helpless movement.

“You took everything from me, Sofia,” he whispers, his tone dripping with menace. “So now, I’ll take everything from you.”

In one brutal, sudden movement, he pulls his hand from my mouth and shifts lower, his fingers digging into my shoulders, pinning me down as he brings his face over my stomach. Before I can scream, he sinks his teeth into the soft skin just above my belly, biting down hard. A jolt of pain shoots through me, sharp and searing, and I cry out, the sound broken and desperate, trapped in my throat.

The pressure of his teeth intensifies, and I feel the flesh bruise, the raw ache settling deep, making my vision blur with tears. He finally pulls back, and I gasp, trembling, the dull, throbbing pain spreading through my abdomen. I don’t dare move, each breath shallow, terror holding me frozen in place.

He straightens, looking down at the teeth marks he left, his face twisted into a satisfied sneer. “Your little baby… your precious little life here… None of it matters to me. Not anymore.”

He drags his fingers slowly over the bruised mark, his touch possessive and cruel. “And when your little heroes come running, I’ll be waiting.”

I manage to choke out a plea, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Please… don’t hurt them… Please, just stop this."

But he doesn’t even blink, his face twisted with cold amusement. He grips my arm, yanking me roughly to my feet, ignoring my quiet sobs. His fingers dig into my skin as he pulls me across the room, muttering to himself, each word laced with menace.

"One down already,” he sneers, barely glancing at me as he drags me toward a closet in the hallway. Panic claws up my throat, and I stumble, trying to pull back, but his grip tightens painfully.

“No—please,” I gasp, my voice desperate, but he doesn’t pause. He opens the closet door and throws me inside, my knees hitting the floor hard. I look up at him, my heart pounding as he stands there, his silhouette dark and menacing against the light spilling in from the hallway.

He leans in close, his face inches from mine, and smiles—a disturbing, hollow smile that chills me to the bone. "Oh, Sofia," he murmurs, his voice soft and twisted, "it’s too late for that."

The closet door slams shut, plunging me into darkness, his laughter echoing in my ears.

I try to steady my breath, to gather my thoughts in the dark, but something wet seeps into the fabric of my shorts, sticky and warm. A metallic smell fills the air, thick and suffocating, and my heart starts pounding wildly. My hand trembles as I reach out, feeling the sticky wetness spreading beneath me. Blood.

The realization hits me hard, and I freeze, terrified of what I’ll find. But something compels me to reach out, to understand, to know. My fingers brush against something solid, unmoving, and the fear claws up my throat, threatening to choke me. Slowly, my hands find his face—cold, unresponsive, familiar. A scream tears out of me, raw and broken.

“Cole,” I sob, the name coming out in desperate, hysterical gasps. “No, no, please, no…”

I shake him, my hands gripping his shoulders, desperate to feel any sign of life. “Wake up! Please, Cole, wake up!” My voice is hoarse, trembling, but there’s nothing, no flicker of movement. My cries fill the small space, echoing back at me, amplifying the horror.

“Help!” I scream, pounding against the closet door, the panic taking over every thought, every feeling. “Somebody, please, help us! Please…”

But the silence presses down on me, heavy and cruel, and all I can do is sit there, clutching Cole’s cold, still body, my screams fading into helpless sobs.