Chapter 13: Sofia

The silence presses down on me like a weight. I’ve stopped crying, but the tears have left my face sticky and raw. I’m sitting on the bed, my knees drawn up to my chest, and I can still hear the echoes of their voices outside the door. I don’t know how long they’ve been gone, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t bring myself to care about anything right now. I’m numb, the fear giving way to a hollow emptiness that settles deep in my bones.

My mind keeps replaying the last few minutes, the way they looked at me, the things they said. They know about my parents. They know about the deal. And Leo... I trusted him. I thought he was just some guy I met at school, someone kind, with that easy smile and the warmth in his eyes. But it was all a trick. He was just playing along, saying what I wanted to hear so I’d let my guard down. And I fell for it.

I should have known. I should have seen it coming. But I wanted to believe that there was someone out there who wasn’t trying to use me, who didn’t have an agenda. And now, here I am—locked in a room with no way out, waiting to be handed off to whoever pays the highest price. Maybe I should have screamed louder. Maybe I should have fought harder. But I was never going to win this fight. Not against them.

I run a hand over my wrist, feeling the tender bruise where one of them grabbed me. I’ve had worse, but the pain is sharper somehow, like it’s digging into the places where I’m already broken. I should hate them. I should want to scream and claw my way out of here, but I’m too tired. I’m too tired of fighting, too tired of pretending I have any control over my life. If they want to hand me off to some monster, fine. Let them. Maybe it’ll be easier to stop caring altogether.

A noise from outside pulls me back, and I tense, my heart pounding again. The door handle turns, and I instinctively press myself against the wall, trying to make myself as small as possible. The door opens, but no one comes in. Instead, I hear footsteps receding, and then nothing. They’ve left me alone again.

I don’t know what they want from me, but I can’t sit here waiting. I glance around the room, taking in every detail, every corner. It’s bare, just a bed, a small table, and a door that leads to a tiny bathroom. No windows, nothing I can use to pry the door open. I’m trapped. The reality of it sinks in, a cold, hard truth that makes me shiver. I’m at their mercy, and they know it.

I close my eyes, trying to focus, trying to think of anything but the walls closing in around me. I picture the little coffee shop where I work, the familiar hum of the espresso machine, the way the sunlight streams through the windows in the morning. I try to remember the sound of my mother’s laugh, the way she used to laugh when I was little, before everything went wrong. But even those memories feel distant, like they belong to someone else.

I hear footsteps again, and this time, they’re closer, coming toward the door. My heart races, and I feel the fear clawing its way back up my throat. I have to be strong. I have to face whatever comes next, even if it tears me apart.

The door opens wider, and Leo steps inside. He doesn’t look at me right away, just stands there, his shoulders slumped, his face shadowed and tired. I brace myself, expecting him to say something, to offer some excuse or justification. But he just looks at me, his gaze heavy and full of something I can’t name.

“Why are you here?” I whisper, my voice breaking. I hate how vulnerable I sound, but I can’t help it. “Why did you bring me here?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, I think he’s not going to answer. But then he sighs, stepping closer, keeping a careful distance. “We didn’t have a choice,” he says, his voice low, almost apologetic. “We needed leverage. We needed a way out.”

“A way out?” I shake my head, anger flaring up. “And you thought I’d be an easy target? Just another pawn you could use to get what you want?”

“It’s not like that,” he says quickly, but I can see the guilt in his eyes, the way he looks away, unable to meet my gaze. “We didn’t know—” He stops, biting his lip, and I can see the conflict written all over his face.

I force myself to stand, crossing my arms over my chest. “You didn’t know what? That I have feelings? That I’d be terrified? Or did you just not care?”

He flinches, but he doesn’t look away. “I didn’t know it would feel like this,” he says softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t think... I didn’t think I’d care.”

For a moment, I want to believe him. I want to believe that he feels something, that he regrets what he’s done. But I can’t afford to be that naive. Not again. I turn away, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to block out the sadness in his eyes, the way he’s looking at me like he wishes he could change everything.

“You can’t take it back,” I say, my voice cold and flat. “You’ve already done it. You’ve already taken away any chance I had at a normal life. So don’t pretend you care.”

He’s silent, and I can feel the weight of his gaze, but I refuse to look at him. I won’t let him see how much this is tearing me apart. I won’t let him know that, deep down, a part of me is still clinging to the hope that there’s something good left in the world, something worth holding on to.

“Do you hate me?” he asks finally, his voice so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

I close my eyes, feeling the tears start to well up again, and I fight to keep them from falling. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know if I have the strength left to hate anyone.”

He steps back, and I hear him take a shaky breath. “We’re not going to hurt you, Sofia. I swear.”

I open my eyes, looking at him, searching for any hint of truth in his face. But all I see is regret, a regret so deep that it almost makes me want to believe him. Almost.

“Just go,” I say, my voice breaking. “Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”

He hesitates, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue. But then he nods, turning and walking out, closing the door behind him. The silence that follows is suffocating, but I welcome it. It’s better than the lies, better than the empty promises that can’t change what’s already been done.

I sink back onto the bed, letting the tears fall this time. I don’t know what the future holds, but one thing is certain: I can’t trust anyone. Not anymore. Not after this. And as the darkness closes in around me, I realize that I’m truly alone.