Semua Bab She's an Assassin: Falling for the Enemy : Bab 61 - Bab 70

The silence was unbearable. It pressed against Sophia’s ears until she could hear nothing but the frantic beat of her heart. Shadows stretched across the walls, jagged and suffocating and the cell smelled of dampness and despair. She had tried to remain calm, had tried to think clearly, but the weight of it all came crashing down at once.Her breath hitched, shallow and uneven. The fear inside her crawled its way up until it spilled over in a rush of wild, desperate energy. With a broken cry, Sophia lunged at the walls. Her fists pound against the stone. Once. Twice. Again. And again, until her knuckles stung and her arms trembled from the force.The noise filled the room, raw and frantic, echoing off the cold stone. She didn’t care who heard her. Didn’t care if it made her look weak. She needed someone. Anyone. To know she was here.“Let me out!” Her voice cracked, thick with terror. “Please, let me out!” The words dissolved into sobs. She pressed her forehead against the wall, tears

The room was suffocatingly dark, the kind of darkness that pressed down on skin like a heavy blanket. A single bulb dangled from the ceiling, swaying faintly, giving off a harsh yellow light that flickered as though it might die at any moment. Its glow fell directly over the metal table at the center, leaving the corners of the chamber swallowed by shadows.Two figures sat across from the man in chains. The first, a man in a sharp black suit, his jaw clenched tight and hands folded in front of him like stone. Beside him sat a woman in a deep red suit, her blonde hair sleeked neatly back with her cold gaze fixed on the man across from them.Their presence carried weight, not the kind that needed explanation. They didn’t have to say who they were. The silence in the room said it all: they were the FBI and this was not their first time breaking men like him.Their subject sat with his wrists chained to the table, posture relaxed in a way that was almost mocking. His face was hard and his

Her cell was a coffin of steel and shadows. Cold air seeped in through a vent near the ceiling carrying the smell of rust and dampness. Sophia sat hunched in the corner with her knees drawn to her chest and her eyes red from sleepless nights. Hours–maybe days–bled into each other–it was really hard to tell how much time had passed–each one leaving her weaker but never enough to crush the ember of defiance still burning inside her.That ember pushed her to her feet now. She then pressed her palms against the walls, tracing their rough surface with trembling fingers. At first she thought it was stone but as her nails scraped, she realized the truth–metal. Steel plates, welded and seamless. Not even time itself would erode them enough to give her freedom.Her breath came ragged as she pressed harder, searching for a seam, a hinge, a weakness. Anything. But there was nothing. Nothing at all. She then slammed her fist against the wall–out of frustration–the sound vibrating up her arm, ratt

The cliff side encounter lingered in Alessa’s mind long after the others had gone. Hidden in the shadows, she had watched every moment–the gun, the trembling, the way Sophia had pulled the trigger without hesitation. She hadn’t needed to hear Isabelle’s words to understand what they meant.Isabelle wasn’t breaking Sophia. She was reshaping her. Slowly, methodically, turning the frightened girl into something else–something sharp, weaponized.Alessa slipped back to the compound corridors in silence, her steps soundless against the stone. Her thoughts were loud though crashing against each other like waves in a storm. Isabelle is preparing Sophia… she realized. Preparing her for war. And the poor girl has no idea. Her chest tightened at the thought.When she finally entered her chambers, the quiet felt suffocating. She then shut the door and leaned her back against it as she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She began to pace the length of her room, her hand brushing

The hospital light was dim, lit only by the muted glow of machines that hummed steadily beside the bed. Sophia lay still, her face pale against the white pillow, her body limp and her breaths shallow. Tubes and wires tethered her to the world, fragile threads that seemed too thin to keep her alive.Matteo sat at her side, his chair pulled so close that his knees brushed the edge of the bed. His hand hovered over hers but he didn’t touch her. He stared at her face, every curve of it familiar, every flicker of movement–or lack thereof–etched deep into his mind.In his head, thoughts spiraled, curling like smoke. “Finally,” he told himself. “Finally it’s done. That bastard child is gone. She is free of it.” A wave of satisfaction rolled through him, subtle but undeniable. He had planned carefully and ensured the poison would do its work. He had imagined this moment, had dreamt of it, had imagined the relief of knowing that his daughter was no longer carrying the seed of Luca, that boy w