Hundred and twenty Three

Hundred and twenty Three
Sophia’s POV

My head throbbed hard as consciousness dragged me back from the suffocating darkness I had succumbed into. The cold that seeped into my bones was the first thing I registered, then the sharp bite of coarse rope digging into my wrists.

I forced my eyes open. A single bulb swung from the ceiling, its dim yellow light flickering every few seconds. The room was small, windowless, with cracked cement walls and a floor slick with damp. Rusted pipes ran along the ceiling, dripping water that splattered against the ground in an uneven rhythm.

I wasn’t in the taxi anymore. Where was I? What was happening?!

My heart stuttered. My folder... the evidence against Alexandra and Tristan... where was it? Was it gone? Panic clawed up my throat as I struggled against the ropes that held me to a metal chair bolted to the floor. The harder I fought, the tighter they bit into my skin.

I froze when I heard footsteps outside the door. Heavy. Measured. Two shadows came into view.

"She will wake up soon, don't worry,” a gruff voice muttered.

“She’s already awake,” another replied. Younger, smoother. “Doesn’t matter. The boss said she won’t leave this place until she learns to keep her mouth shut.”

The blood in my veins turned to ice. Who was their boss? Alexandra? Or Tristan? Or maybe both of them? It had to be either one of them, or both of them. Who else would go this far to stop me?

The door creaked open just enough for light to spill through. A tall man with a scar running down his cheek stepped in, his eyes flat and assessing. Behind him lingered another, arms crossed.

“Comfortable?” the scarred man sneered, crouching down to my level. His breath reeked of cigarettes. “You should’ve minded your business, sweetheart. Now look where you are.”

I glared at him, refusing to show fear. “You don’t scare me.”

He chuckled, straightening his body “That’s cute. Let’s see how long that confidence of yours lasts.”

The door slammed shut again, leaving me in flickering shadows.

I inhaled sharply, steadying myself. Fear pulsed in my chest, but beneath it burned something stronger... fury, anger. They thought binding me here would silence me, but they underestimated one thing, Henry. He was expecting me. If I didn’t show up, he’d know something was wrong.

And when he came, Alexandra and Tristan would regret ever touching me.

The silence after the men left pressed down on me like a weight. I tried to steady my breathing, but the flickering bulb above me only fed my panic, making shadows dance across the cracked walls.

I tugged harder at the ropes. My wrists burned, skin raw, but I refused to stop. If I could loosen even one knot, I might have a chance. I shifted, pressing my hands against the metal edges of the chair. The ropes cut deeper, but I welcomed the pain. It meant only one thing , that I was fighting back.

Something clinked against the floor beside me. I stilled. At first I thought it was the drip from the pipes again, but when I looked down, I saw it, half of a broken bottle lying a few inches away, its jagged edge catching the dim light. My pulse quickened. If I could reach it…

The sound of laughter drifted in from behind the door, male voices echoing like a cruel reminder that I wasn’t alone.

“She thinks she’s clever,” one of them mocked. “Boss said once the deal goes through, we’ll be rid of her.”

A chill swept through me. The deal? What deal? Alexandra and Tristan had already schemed enough to ruin me, what were they planning now?

I pressed my heels against the floor, shifting the chair inch by inch, scraping metal against concrete. The noise made my stomach lurch, but the men outside kept talking, oblivious. Slowly, painstakingly, the chair slid closer to the bottle.

Another inch. And another and another... Sweat dripped down my body as I forced myself towards the broken bottle.

Finally, the jagged glass was within reach of my bound hands. I stretched my fingers until they brushed its edge. My pulse pounded in my ears as I dragged it closer, wrapping my fingers around it carefully.

Hope flared in my chest. If I could cut the ropes, if I could just get free…

The doorknob rattled.

I froze, the bottle hidden awkwardly in my palm as the door creaked open.

The scarred man stepped back inside, his smile cruel. “Time for round two, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”

I gripped the glass tighter, heart racing. I might be tied down, but I wasn’t defenseless anymore.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.