Chapter 137: Chapter One Hundred And Thirty Seven

Sofia's POV

The room was cold. Not from the temperature, but from the sheer emptiness of it. No windows. Just four walls, a locked door, and the low hum of a dim, flickering light above me.

I sat on the thin mattress, my hands trembling in my lap. My wrists ached from the tight ropes that had bound me for hours. Thomas had finally loosened them-just enough to remind me that I wasn't free.

I stared at him as he leaned against the wall, his phone pressed to his ear, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

"Aww… too slow, brother," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Theo.

My stomach twisted at the sound of his name. He was looking for me. I knew he would. But Thomas-he was always one step ahead.

Thomas sighed dramatically, shaking his head. " Tsk, tsk. You really thought Jude would still be there? You're predictable, Theo. It's disappointing."

I held my breath, watching him carefully. He was playing with Theo, enjoying every second of his control.

A pause. Then his smirk widened. "Come on, brother. No one cares about a prostitute's life."

I flinched.

I knew what that meant-Theo had someone at gunpoint. He was desperate, and Thomas loved pushing him to the edge.

Another pause. His eyes flicked toward me, sharp with amusement.

"You want to play games?" he murmured, mimicking Theo's words. Then, with a smirk, he added, "Good luck with that."

And just like that, he ended the call.

I swallowed hard as he tossed his phone onto the table and turned to me, his expression unreadable.

"Looks like your knight in shining armor is too late," he said smoothly. "Again."

I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see the fear clawing at my insides. If there was one thing I had learned, it was that Thomas fed on fear. It excited him. Gave him control.

I wouldn't give him that.

Theo would come for me. He always did.

Thomas took a slow step forward, the dim light casting shadows over his sharp features. "You should've seen his face, Sofia," he mused. "The rage. The desperation. I could practically hear his teeth grinding through the phone."

I clenched my jaw, my nails digging into my palms.

He crouched in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint hint of cologne on him. "It must feel nice," he murmured, tilting his head. "To have a man willing to burn the world for you."

I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see the fear clawing at my insides. If there was one thing I had learned, it was that Thomas fed on fear. It excited him. Gave him control.

I wouldn't give him that.

Theo would come for me. He always did.

Thomas took a slow step forward, the dim light casting shadows over his sharp features. "You should've seen his face, Sofia," he mused. "The rage. The desperation. I could practically hear his teeth grinding through the phone."

I clenched my jaw, my nails digging into my palms.

He crouched in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint hint of cologne on him. "It must feel nice," he murmured, tilting his head. "To have a man willing to burn the world for you."

Continue with him comparing his love for you to Theo's him burning for you is better and beside you were his first

I refused to react, keeping my expression cold, but Thomas saw through it. He always did.

His smirk deepened as he reached out, brushing a knuckle along my jaw. I jerked away, but he only chuckled.

"Don't do that," he murmured. "Don't act like you don't feel it too."

I glared at him. "Feel what?"

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he was disappointed. "Theo loves you, sure. But he loves you like a man desperate to keep something he thinks belongs to him. Me?" His gaze darkened. "I burn for you, Sofia. And you know that kind of love is stronger."

I clenched my fists. "Love?" I spat. "You call this love?"

Thomas smiled, but there was nothing soft about it. "Yes," he said simply. "Love isn't just gentle words and soft touches, sweetheart. It's possession. It's the kind of hunger that never dies, the kind that makes you need to own someone completely."

A shiver ran down my spine.

He leaned in, his voice lowering. "You think Theo's the first man who ever looked at you like you were his whole world?" His fingers traced the edge of my wrist, where the rope had left angry red marks. "He's not."

I swallowed hard, hating the way my body tensed under his touch. "You're delusional."

He laughed softly. "Am I?"

He tilted his head, studying me like he was memorizing every little reaction I gave him. Then his next words made my breath catch.

"You were mine first, Sofia. Not his."

I went still.

His fingers curled around my wrist, not hard, but firm enough to make sure I didn't pull away. "You belonged to me before Theo even knew how to love you. Before he even noticed you."

I hated that my chest tightened at his words.

Because deep down, I knew there was truth in them.

Thomas and I had a past-a dark, twisted, undeniable past. And he knew it. He was using it.

His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered, "He's chasing after something I already had."

I forced myself to breathe, to shove down the way his words slithered under my skin like poison. I wouldn't let him win. Not this time.

I jerked my wrist from his grip, glaring up at him. "You think that means something?" My voice was sharp, cold. "That just because you had me first, you own me?"

Thomas didn't flinch. He just smiled, that infuriating, knowing smirk.

"You and Theo are the same," I spat, my voice trembling with anger. "You both think I belong to you. That I'm something to be claimed, fought over. But here's the truth, Thomas." I lifted my chin, letting my hatred shine through. "I belong to neither of you."

His smirk faltered.

"I hate you," I whispered, letting the words sink in. "I hate him. I hate both of you."

Thomas's jaw tensed. His amusement flickered into something else-something darker.

A slow, dangerous silence stretched between us.

Then, suddenly, he laughed. Low, quiet, but dripping with something sharp.

"You say that now," he mused, tilting his head. "But hate is just another kind of passion, sweetheart." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "And I know you. I know what's under all that fire, all that rage."

I stiffened as he lifted a hand, pressing it flat against my chest-right over my racing heart.

"This," he murmured, his thumb tracing small circles against my skin. "This is for me, too. Whether you want to admit it or not."

I clenched my jaw, swallowing back the scream building in my throat.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Thomas leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "You can keep telling yourself you hate me, Sofia," he whispered. "But when Theo gets here… when he sees the truth of what we are-what we were-I wonder…"

He pulled back, his dark eyes burning into mine.

"Will he still want you?"