Chapter 168

The morning sun painted golden streaks across the sky as Sophia stepped into the bustling café. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

She spotted Ethan Blackwood sitting by the window, his sharp features softened by the sunlight. His fingers tapped absently against the table, a habit she'd come to recognize as impatience.

"You're late," he remarked without looking up.

Sophia slid into the seat opposite him, setting her bag down with deliberate calm. "Traffic," she lied smoothly.

Ethan's gaze finally lifted, piercing and unreadable. "We don't have time for games, Sophia."

She arched a brow. "Then why are we here?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Because you owe me answers."

The air between them crackled with tension. Around them, the café hummed with oblivious chatter, a stark contrast to the storm brewing at their table.

Sophia leaned forward, lowering her voice. "What exactly do you want to know?"

Ethan mirrored her movement, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Everything."

A shiver raced down her spine. She'd known this moment would come, but the weight of it still stole her breath.

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed. A message from Daniel Carter lit up the screen: We need to talk. Now.

Her stomach twisted.

Ethan's eyes flicked to her phone, then back to her face. "Problem?"

Sophia forced a smile. "Just business."

But the look in his eyes told her he didn't believe her.

And she wasn't sure she believed herself either.

The game was far from over.

And the stakes had never been higher.

"I can't believe you just said that about Ethan!"

"Lucky for me, because I couldn't care less what you think," I snap.

Why couldn’t she just shut up and let me focus? Every second I remained tied up, my panic grew sharper.

Isabella glares at me but finally stays silent. I exhale in relief. Now, I could concentrate on freeing my hands. If I managed that, the rest would be easy. At least, I hoped so.

I don’t know how long I struggled before giving up. My hands trembled. My wrists burned, raw and slick with blood. The more I fought against the ropes, the deeper they bit into my skin.

A heavy breath escapes me. I hated this, but I had no choice. It was either swallow my pride or risk becoming the one who didn’t make it out alive.

"I have a plan," I mutter reluctantly, turning to Isabella. It stung my ego, but survival mattered more than pride.

"Now you need my help?" she smirks. "Weren’t you just telling me to shut the hell up and that my opinion meant nothing?"

The urge to lash out was strong, but I held back. Antagonizing her now would be stupid—I needed her.

"Are you helping or not?" I demand, refusing to admit I might have been too harsh.

She studies me, blue eyes locked onto mine, weighing her options. Deciding whether to aid her worst enemy. Just as I consider taking it back, she finally speaks.

"What do you need me to do?"

Relief floods me. Maybe there was hope after all.

"I can’t untie myself, but you might be able to," I explain. "If we turn our chairs back-to-back and get close enough, we could free each other."

God, I prayed this would work. I was out of ideas.

"Fine," she says, twisting her chair toward me.

I’d considered hopping mine around, but Isabella’s method was smarter—quieter, less likely to draw attention.

After several attempts and near falls, we finally maneuvered into position.

"Hurry," I plead, fingers working frantically at her binds.

Every second that passed, I expected Damian to burst in and declare Ethan had chosen Isabella—sealing my fate.

Finally, the ropes loosened. My body relaxed slightly, but not completely. True relief wouldn’t come until we were far from this place.

I quickly untied my legs, stumbling when I stood. The ropes had cut off circulation, leaving my limbs numb.

"What now?" Isabella asks, nerves threading her voice.

I didn’t have a solid plan. We’d have to improvise.

"Now, we escape."

I moved toward the door but paused when I realized she wasn’t following.

"Are you coming?" I ask without fully turning.

"I don’t know. What if Ethan comes and we’re gone? What then?"

Just because we’d helped each other didn’t make us allies. She needed to stop waiting for others to save her.

"Listen," I say coldly, "when they realize I’m gone, they’ll take the choice from Ethan and kill you instead. Stay if you want, but I’m leaving."

With that, I turned and strode toward the door.

Cracking it open, I scanned the hallway—no guards. I pushed it wider, stepping out just as Isabella slipped in behind me.