23. Sophie

23

SOPHIE

M om’s apartment is quiet—too quiet—like the walls are listening. I’m curled up in the corner, knees drawn to my chest, arms wrapped around them like I can hold everything in if I just keep still enough. The darkness in here doesn’t feel like it’s part of the room; it feels like it’s inside me, settling in my bones, a cold weight that makes it harder to think. My phone’s beside me, buzzing in the silence, but I don’t move to check it. I don’t need to. I know who it is. Malik.

I don’t know what I’d even say, or what I’m supposed to do next. So I stay frozen, waiting for something—anything—to snap me out of this.

But nothing does. My mind just keeps going back.

Lily. The murder. The blood.

I still can’t shake the image of him, his blood pooling on the floor, his face distorted with confusion and pain. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. I was supposed to make the connections I needed to get into the afterparty, slip in unnoticed, do the job, and get out. But Lily...she tagged along, and that’s where everything fell apart .

The lock clicks, and my heart jumps into my throat. Mom is going to kill me. I push myself to my feet just as the door swings open.

Mom steps inside, her silhouette sharp and commanding. For a moment, she feels me, but doesn’t see me. Then, when her eyes find mine, everything freezes. Her hand twitches at her side, moving like she's about to pull a weapon.

“Mom, it’s me,” I say quickly, my voice strained. “Don’t?—”

Her hand freezes mid-motion, her eyes narrowing, scanning me like I’m some kind of threat. A flicker of recognition, then something colder. A tension I can feel across the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demands, stepping further inside. “Why aren’t you at the dorm?”

I stand up, smoothing out my dress, trying to seem composed. “I needed to talk to you,” I say, my voice steady but my nerves on fire.

Her gaze sharpens, piercing through me like she’s trying to find the hole in my story. “At four in the morning?”

I hesitate, just a moment too long. Then I force the words out. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought...maybe we could strategize. About what I saw at The Raven.”

The way she looks at me makes me feel like I’m the most transparent person in the world. She knows it’s a lie, but she lets it hang in the air.

She takes a step closer, narrowing her eyes, her voice cutting through the silence. “Strategize?” she repeats, almost mocking. “What happened tonight, Sophie?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, and I take notice of how her spine straightens. “Tell me everything. Start from the beginning, don’t leave anything out.”

I keep my face neutral, showing her nothing. Not this time.

“I’ll handle it,” I say, the words tasting like metal. “The cameras, the cleanup, everything. ”

Mom steps closer again, her eyes never leaving mine. “You’ll handle what? ” she sneers. “Goddamn it, spell it out.”

“I went to The Raven tonight. To make the connections, get into the afterparty. I thought it would give us the leverage we need. But Lily...she tagged along.”

“Lily?” She looks at me like I’ve just grown two heads. “Your roommate?”

“That’s the one.” I see her eyes harden, but I push forward, unable to stop the words once they’ve started. “They drugged her, Mom. I didn’t know what was happening until we were in the VIP room, and one of the men...he was assaulting her.”

The words stick in my throat, and I can feel the weight of everything crashing down. It was supposed to be easy—get in, get the intel, and get out. But I saw the look in Lily’s eyes while they had her pinned down, and I couldn’t let them get away with it. Maybe I couldn’t kill them all, at least not right then. But I could take out the immediate threat.

“I dragged her out of the room as fast as I could. She wasn’t responding, not fully, and I didn’t know how much she remembered. But before I could get her out of there... that guy—he followed me. He... he grabbed me, pulled me into the men's room.”

I pause, the flash of violence rushing back. “I had no choice. I—I mean, he had me cornered. I had to make sure he couldn’t hurt anyone else.” I exhale sharply, my voice tight as I push through the words. “I killed him, Mom. In the bathroom stall. It was quick, but it wasn’t clean. The blood—it’s everywhere. It’s all going to fall apart if anyone connects me to it.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there, watching me with that cold, assessing look. My chest is tight, my breath shallow. This isn’t how it was supposed to go down. This wasn’t part of the plan. And then I remember the cameras. The damn cameras. The ones that are going to have picked up everything.

“There are cameras, Mom,” I continue, my voice breaking. “A lot of witnesses. People saw me . I—I don’t know what to do. If they have footage of me, if someone talks...”

She shifts from foot to foot, steady and deliberate. I brace myself for her reaction, but she doesn’t seem angry. Not yet. She’s cold, calculating, always thinking. It’s what I’ve learned to expect from her.

“So,” she says, her voice low, “you went to The Raven to make connections, but you couldn’t keep your emotions in check. You let that man push you, and now we have this mess to clean up.”

I’m too raw, too scared to hide it. “I didn’t let him. I did what I had to do. You’re the one always telling me not to hesitate. Well, this time I didn’t.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re a liability, Sophie. You didn’t think this through. You didn’t plan for the cameras, for the witnesses. You didn’t even know how to control the situation.”

I swallow hard, not able to argue because she’s right. I should have been smarter. Should have known what could go wrong. But I didn’t. And now it’s my problem to fix.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Rule number eight: a clean job is a quiet job.”

“I know, Mom. I didn’t come here for a refresher on your rules.”

“Well, you’re getting one,” she says with a sigh. “Because you really fucked up.”

“I know.”

“Noise attracts attention. Attention gets you caught. And getting caught is for amateurs. That roommate of yours—she’s noise."

“I’ll handle the cleanup,” I say, sounding more sure of myself than I am. “I’ll get rid of the footage. Make sure no one talks. I’ll fix it.”

Her lips twitch, almost like she’s about to smile, but it’s not a kind smile. It’s the kind that makes my stomach turn. “You’ll handle it?” she says, her voice thick with disbelief. “You couldn’t even handle one man without making a mess. What makes you think you’re ready for cleanup?”

I don’t answer. There’s no point. She’s not looking for an explanation. She’s looking for an excuse to remind me of how badly I’ve failed.

“Let me guess,” she says, with another long drawn-out sigh. “This tough act you’re putting on…it’s all bullshit. Face it, Sophie—you’re here because you’re scared. You don’t know how to fix this, so you ran to Mommy to clean up your mess.”

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. “I’m not scared,” I say, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “I just thought?—”

“You didn’t think,” she cuts in. “That’s the problem. You don’t think. You act. You react. And now we’re in this mess because you couldn’t keep your emotions in check.”

Her words are sharp, deliberate, each one landing like a slap. But I don’t let them show. I can’t. If she senses any weakness at all, she’ll eat me alive.

“I’ll take care of Lily,” I say, shifting the focus. “She doesn’t remember much. They drugged her?—”

She cuts me off with a laugh, low and humorless. “You think that matters? Spotty memory or not, she’s a loose end. And you know we can’t have loose ends.”

My stomach twists. I knew this was coming, but hearing her say it out loud still makes my stomach sick. “She’s not a threat,” I say quickly. “I can make sure she doesn’t talk. I’ll?—”

“Stop.” Her voice is ice. “You’re not going to charm your way out of this, Sophie. If she becomes a problem, I’ll handle it—or the agency will. End of discussion.”

I want to argue, to tell her that Lily doesn’t deserve to die for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I know it won’t matter.

Charlotte doesn’t care about fairness or morality. She cares about control. She cares about keeping her hands clean. She cares about saving her own ass.

“I’ll make sure she’s not a problem,” I say instead. It’s not a promise I can keep, but I’m hoping it’s enough to make her back off. For now.

Charlotte eyes me for a long moment, then turns away, heading toward the safe hidden behind the bookshelf. “It’s a bit too late for that.”

I watch her, my jaw tight, my fists still clenched. She doesn’t see me as her daughter. Not really. To her, I’m just another tool. And tools that don’t work get thrown away.

The thought settles in my chest like a stone, heavy and unshakable. I’ve always known that failure isn’t an option. But tonight, it feels like the margin for error is thinner than ever.

As she opens the safe, I make a silent promise to myself: I’ll handle this. The cameras, Lily, everything. Not for Mom, but for me. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the only person I can rely on is myself.

She closes the safe and turns back to me, her expression unreadable. “Get out,” she says. “Before I say or do something I regret.”

I nod, forcing my legs to move toward the door. But as I step into the hallway, I can’t shake the feeling that no matter what I do, it won’t be enough. Not for her. Not for the agency. Not for anyone.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the point.