Sophia's POV
The moment the elevator doors slide shut, the weight I had been holding crashes down on me like a tidal wave. My chest tightens, my breath hitching as I lean against the cold steel wall. The image of Nathan and Chloe tangled together is burned into my mind, replaying in vicious loops. My fingers curl into my palms, nails biting into my skin, but it does nothing to stop the storm inside me. The doors open, and I step out into the empty parking garage, the sound of my heels echoing like the hollow ache in my chest. I make it to my car before the first tear falls. I grip the steering wheel, my vision blurring as silent sobs wrack my body. Six years. Six years of laughter, of whispered dreams, of standing beside him through every success and failure. Had it all been a lie? The late nights at the office, the unexplained business trips, the growing distance I had convinced myself was just stress—was it always her? My own sister? The betrayal cuts deeper than I thought possible, a searing pain that spreads through every inch of me. I want to scream, to shatter something as thoroughly as Nathan has shattered me. But instead, I wipe my tears and take a steadying breath. I won’t let them destroy me. The drive home is a blur, the city lights streaking past as my mind races. By the time I step into my penthouse, the silence is suffocating. Everything in this space holds a memory—our wedding photos on the mantel, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air, the plush throw blanket we used to curl under on movie nights. I can’t stand it. I grab the nearest frame, the one from our honeymoon in Santorini, and hurl it across the room. The glass shatters, pieces scattering across the floor like fragments of my heart. My phone buzzes, pulling me from the wreckage of my emotions. I glance at the screen, my stomach twisting. Chloe. For a second, I consider ignoring it, but rage propels me forward. I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Well, that was dramatic,” Chloe’s voice drips with amusement. “Did you really think he’d stay loyal to you forever?” My grip tightens around the phone. “What do you want?” I keep my voice steady, refusing to let her hear how much she’s broken me. Chloe laughs, the sound light and taunting. “I just thought I’d call to clear the air. You should’ve seen this coming, Sophia. Nathan never loved you. Not the way he loves me.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “Love? Is that what you call sneaking around behind my back? Sleeping with your sister’s husband?” “Oh, come on. You were always so perfect—the successful wife, the power couple, the woman who had it all.” She sighs, feigning sympathy. “But deep down, you knew he was never satisfied. And now, he doesn’t have to pretend anymore.” Her words are knives, each one twisting deeper, but I refuse to let her win. “You think you’ve won, Chloe?” My voice is deadly calm. “You think taking my husband makes you better than me?” She hums, amusement laced in every syllable. “I don’t think, Sophia. I know.” A cold fury settles inside me, stronger than the pain, stronger than the heartbreak. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” I whisper. “Because I promise you, you’ll regret this.” I hang up before she can respond, my hands shaking with the force of my anger. I refuse to let them see me as the broken wife, the woman scorned. If they think they’ve destroyed me, they have no idea who they’re dealing with. That night, I don’t cry anymore. Instead, I make a decision. I pour myself a glass of wine, sit at my desk, and pull out my laptop. It’s time to take control—financially, emotionally, and legally. I dial the number of the best divorce attorney in the city. "Ms. Mitchell," the voice on the other end greets me. "What can I do for you?" "I need to start the divorce process immediately," I say, my voice firm. "And I want everything I’m entitled to." He clears his throat. "That can certainly be arranged. Do you have any prenuptial agreements in place?" "No," I say, a small, victorious smile forming. Nathan had been so in love when we got married that he refused to sign one. "And I want to make sure he doesn’t walk away from this unscathed." The lawyer chuckles. "I like your style, Ms. Mitchell. Let’s set up a meeting tomorrow to go over the details." After I hang up, a new sense of purpose settles over me. I won’t let Nathan and Chloe reduce me to a woman scorned. I’ll rise from this, stronger and more powerful than before. But tonight, I need an escape. I grab my coat and leave the penthouse, the walls closing in on me with memories I no longer want to relive. I find myself at a dimly lit bar downtown, a place I’ve never been before but exactly what I need. It’s quiet, the kind of place where people come to disappear for a while. I slide onto a barstool, ordering a whiskey neat. The burn of the alcohol is a welcome distraction, numbing the edges of my pain. As I take another sip, a deep voice breaks through my thoughts. "Rough night?" I glance to my side, my gaze meeting a pair of intense, dark eyes. The man beside me is striking—tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp jawline and an air of mystery that makes my pulse stutter. He studies me, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "You could say that," I murmur, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. He signals the bartender, ordering another round. "Let me guess. Love troubles?" I let out a dry laugh. "More like love lies." His smirk deepens, as if he understands all too well. "Then let’s drink to that." I raise my glass, meeting his in a silent toast. As I take another sip, I realize something. For the first time all night, I’m not thinking about Nathan or Chloe. And that, in itself, feels like the first step toward reclaiming myself. To be continued...Sophia’s POVThe night didn’t sleep, and neither did I.Even as Alex wrapped an arm around me in that cold steel shelter, even as his heartbeat thudded steady against my cheek, my mind refused to rest. Every creak of the wind outside sounded like a footstep. Every shadow on the walls looked like a ghost from Site Eleven. I kept seeing Nyx's eyes—the way they opened like she was waking from a nightmare she hadn’t finished dreaming.And I couldn’t shake the feeling that she had looked through me—not just at me.Alex dozed off eventually, his breaths growing slow and heavy. I slipped out from under his arm and sat by the mirror. My reflection looked worse than I felt. Blackened bruises laced my ribcage. Blood still crusted the corner of my lip. But the real damage wasn’t skin-deep.I’d seen Damian alive.He was supposed to be dead.He was supposed to be buried along with everything we destroyed after the divorce—the company, the assets, the programs. We burned it all to the ground.Appar
Alex’s POVThe barrel of my rifle smoked as I stood over the last man still twitching on the ground, blood pooled under his vest, and I didn’t look twice.There was no time for second glances anymore, not here.The stairwell was blown to hell, concrete crumbling at the edges. I had barely made it through the lower corridor when the EMP burst went off. That was my first sign that Sophia was still alive.The second was the tracker.It was tiny, old tech. The kind that only Sophia used because she didn’t trust newer systems. The signal was faint, but it pulsed straight through the jamming field like a beacon in a graveyard.I followed it without hesitation.Now, I stood at the extraction point—breathing hard, cuts on my arms, and half a magazine left in the chamber and then I saw her.Sophia….alive, battered, limping, blood at the corner of her mouth—but alive.She broke into a run the moment she saw me, and before either of us could say a word, she grabbed my face and kissed me. Fierce
Sophia’s POVI didn’t move.I couldn’t.Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, but none louder than the sound inside my head—Damian’s voice echoing like a siren through bone.“We were wondering when you'd arrive.”He stepped closer, his boots making no sound on the concrete floor. The shadows seemed to bend around him like they knew better than to defy his presence. His hands were gloved, his suit pristine despite the carnage around us, as if he’d strolled into a graveyard and decided it was just another boardroom.“Still stubborn,” he murmured, crouching beside me. “Still bleeding for ghosts.”My hand twitches toward my side holster, but he caught the motion before I could blink and with effortless precision, he snatched the gun, disassembled it, and tossed the pieces behind him.“You always were predictable.”“I could say the same about you,” I rasped. My voice was raw. “Still monologuing like a cliché.”He laughed, a quiet, controlled sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sophia
Sophia’s PovThe air inside Site Eleven was thinner than I remembered. Every breath felt like dragging dust through my lungs. The deeper we pushed, the more it reeked of rot and silence—like the place had been swallowed by its own secrets.Lena moved ahead of me, her flashlight cutting through the corridor’s gloom. Behind us, Ortega brought up the rear, his hand never straying far from the pistol holstered at his hip. None of us spoke much anymore. The tension did all the talking.Madrid had been a dead end or so it seemed but Site Eleven? This place was screaming.We passed the wreckage of an old security checkpoint, long since gutted. The cameras overhead still tracked movement, though—red dots blinking lazily in the shadows. Someone had power here. Someone was still watching.“Left wing’s sealed,” Lena reported, checking her comm. “Thermal’s dead. No movement.”“No movement doesn’t mean no threat,” Ortega muttered.I agreed. This facility had been mothballed years ago after the pro
Alex’s POVThe cabin felt too quiet after they left.It wasn’t the silence itself—I’d lived through worse—but the kind of silence that settles like ash after a fire. Every footstep echoed louder. Every creak in the floorboards made me pause. I kept expecting to hear Sophia’s voice from the kitchen or the low hum of Lena’s keyboard tapping from the corner table. But there was only the wind, and the river beyond it.Lina and Liana filled the space as best they could.Lina still drew every morning, sometimes with more intensity than usual, like she was trying to sketch her mother’s return into existence. Liana followed me everywhere, climbing into my lap when I worked on the generator, holding my hand when I checked the perimeter traps. She didn’t say much, but she watched everything.They were survivors, like their mother. Brave. Resilient. And far too aware of the world’s sharp edges.I tried not to let it show, but every hour that passed without a signal from Sophia twisted something
Sophia’s POVThe forest didn't sleep that night.It whispered through the trees, brushed cold fingers over the cabin roof, reminded me in its quiet way that stillness was not safety. Not truly. I lay in bed with Liana curled against my side and Lina in the cot nearby, listening to their even breaths, memorizing the sound of their peace—because I knew it wouldn't last.I was already making a list in my head.Names. Locations. Dead drops. Allies whose silence had stretched too long. Dead men who might not be as dead as we’d thought.Site Eleven.Madrid.I hadn't heard that name in months, not since the last map we’d recovered from the ashes of Site Nine. It was meant to be the decoy site, a shell operation they used to throw off tracking, but if it was compromised now—someone had either found the real one… or resurrected what was buried there.Either way, I couldn’t ignore it.I slipped out of bed just before dawn, kissed both my daughters on the forehead, and padded barefoot into the k