Chapter 80

"Wake up!"

I groan but keep my eyes shut. The voice sounds distant, like a fading dream—except dreams don’t usually sound this irritatingly familiar.

"Sophia, wake the hell up!"

My eyes snap open. That voice was too sharp, too real to be imagined. And why the hell would I dream about her of all people?

Blinking, my vision swims as I try to adjust. Then it hits me—the memories flooding back.

Shit. I’ve been kidnapped. Again.

My head throbs, probably from whatever chemical they used to knock me out. Chloroform, if I had to guess. My hand instinctively moves to my stomach, panic flaring. Please don’t let this hurt the baby.

I’m tied to a chair, wrists bound so tightly the ropes bite into my skin. Testing them proves useless—whoever did this wasn’t taking chances.

"Are you done?"

I freeze. That wasn’t my imagination. Jerking my head to the side, I find Isabella—also tied up, but looking far more alert than I feel.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I blurt.

Scanning the room, I take in the barren space—no furniture, no windows, nothing but concrete walls and the two of us. No clues, no hints. Just emptiness.

"Isn’t it obvious?" she drawls. "We were both taken."

I roll my eyes. "No shit. I meant why? Who the hell would want us both?"

The list of enemies wasn’t short, but Isabella was the Sharp family’s golden child. If anyone was a target, it should’ve been her alone.

"I don’t know," she mutters.

"How long have you been here?" I force my breathing to steady. Panicking won’t help.

The question drags me back to another night—another kidnapping. The night Daniel betrayed me. The parallels make my stomach twist.

"Not sure. I woke up right before they dumped you in here," Isabella says, pulling me from the memory.

"And how long was I out?"

"Fifteen, twenty minutes?"

Silence. I do the math, but it’s useless. No idea how far we are from the ice cream shop.

Then it hits me—Liam. School ends at three-thirty. What if they took him too?

Breathe. The school would call Ethan if I didn’t show. He’d keep Liam safe.

I repeat it until my pulse slows. Liam would be okay. Right now, I needed to focus.

"So it’s true," Isabella says, eyeing my stomach. "You’re pregnant."

I ignore her, turning away. My pregnancy was none of her damn business.

She huffs. "Still rude as ever."

"And you’re still insufferable. Shut up."

I twist against the ropes, ignoring the burn in my wrists. No way was I staying trapped here with her.

A deep laugh cuts through the tension. "Nothing like a good catfight."

I jerk my head up. A man stands in the doorway—tall, built, smirking like he’s enjoying the show.

"Untie me," I snap. "Then we’ll see who’s laughing."

He chuckles. "Feisty. I like that."

I glare. "Is this your hobby? Kidnapping women? Does it make you feel like a real man?"

His smirk vanishes. "Shut your mouth."

"Or what?" I taunt.

"Sophia, stop," Isabella hisses.

I don’t. "Men like you are pathetic. Drugging women? Should’ve been castrated at birth."

His fist moves before I see it.

Pain explodes across my face. My vision whites out, ears ringing. Blood fills my mouth—I must’ve bitten my tongue.

When the world refocuses, I spit the blood onto his boots. He snarls, raising his hand again—

"Enough."

A new voice. Smooth, commanding.

The brute freezes. "Boss, she—"

"I don’t care. You don’t touch them."

The newcomer steps forward, and my breath catches.

Tattoos coil over his arms, but they don’t hide the sharp cut of his jaw, the piercing green eyes, the kind of lips that belonged in a damn romance novel. Confidence rolls off him in waves—the kind that could rival Ethan’s.

Isabella’s staring too. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one struck stupid.

He turns to me, smiling. "Let’s start over. I’m Damian."

My pulse kicks.

"And you’re here," he continues, "because your ex-husband owes me. And I always collect."