Sophia

Laurel sits in the chair across from me, her elbows on her knees, her face buried in her hands. She looks tired—no, exhausted. Like the volume of everything she’s done has finally sunk in and she is starting to have herself.

I should hate her. I want to hate her. But as I sit here, freshly cleaned, wearing the soft T-shirt and sweatpants she gave me, I find myself not being able to.

There’s something about her—raw and unguarded —that tugs at the edges of my plan. She is hurting, that much is clear but I'm not sure if that's because of this or entirely something else.

Her head lifts, and she catches me staring. For a second, neither of us moves, our eyes lock in and I'm having trouble looking away.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, her voice low and husky.

My tummy churns, cut me some slack here she looks super hot all disheveled and shit. Trust me I'm not crazy for wanting to fuck my captor, am I?

Or maybe, it's a mental thing because... I fucked and loved my master but those bastards are the same people who took me away from my parents.

I shrug, looking away. “I don’t know.”

The silence stretches on.

I don’t know how to describe this feeling in my chest and between us. It’s like the tension that’s been building up has shifted into something else.

Something dangerous that none of us should dare touch. Or maybe I'm just overthinking this?

“You should lie down,” she says finally, her voice cracking just a little. “Rest.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Then what do you want, Sophia?”

I sigh, her question hangs in the air, demanding answers that I don’t have, at least not one I’m willing to say out loud.

“I want this to be over,” I say instead, my voice quieter than I intended.

She exhales sharply, almost like a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah. Me too. I want this to be over more than you do and you won't believe that but whatever.”

Her eyes are on me again, and this time I look away.

“I shouldn’t have done this to you,” she says, her voice breaking again. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but…” She trails off, shaking her head. “I’ve been so wrong about everything.”

I don’t know what compels me, but I lean forward,m slightly but that damn cuffs. My body is moving before my brain catches up.

“Then stop,” I say softly. Literally begging her. “Let me go.”

Her gaze locks onto mine, and I can see the struggle in her eyes. The guilt. For a second there, I am pretty sure she is considering it. What does she have to lose?

“I can’t,” she whispers, and I sigh, tired of this back and forth shit.

"Why?" I snap. Surely if I'm being kept against my will, the least I would want to know is why. And I feel dumb because that is the question I was supposed to ask the first time she tied me to a bed post in that hotel.

"My sister. The cartel has her somewhere and....I need your help to find her."

Wow, straight to the point I see. I bet she is tired too.

"I'm a lawyer and my young sister has been missing for a while now. She was taken on her way back from school. When I heard that they released someone again this year, I flew to LA to meet you. To ask you to help me find my sister, she is probably a victim just like you're and none of you deserve this."

Laurel spits in one breath and with a determined conviction only someone with a plan can be on.

"All this...all of it was just a stunt?" I want to sound pissed because I am but my voice is just weak and tired.

Laurel doesn't hesitate and she doesn't look at me. "Yes. I just needed the perfect moment to get you away from your bodyguard to ask you this."

She swallows and won't look up.

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes but I don't have the energy to wipe them away.

Laurel, the monster might have kidnapped me and I'm not saying I forgive her for that but she was only just trying to find someone who she cares about.

None of that makes it right but atleast she is trying while my family just gave up on me.

And that, that I respect.

Laurel sniffs and I don't know is she is crying or just has a sudden cold but she shoots up from the chair.

"Laurel..." I should let her go and cry in peace but my head just doesn't work that way.

She stops at the door.

"I need you to scratch me. I can't reach the spot."

Laurel mumbles something under her breath but she comes anyway.

I don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s her. But it should be me because I'm definitely attracted to toxic people.

One second, we’re sitting, and the next, she’s in front of me, her hands hesitating near my face. Her fingers hover, trembling, before brushing against my cheek.

It’s such a small touch, but it ignites something in me—something I didn’t know I would feel while being cuffed to a stupid bed in a stupid cabin.

“What are you doing?” she ask, her voice barely audible.

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice is trembling along with my hands.“I just… I don’t know.”

Her touch is hesitant, almost like she’s afraid I’ll pull away. But I don’t. I won't.

The bed creaks as she gets closer, her knee brushing against mine. The small contact sends a jolt through my body, and I realize my breathing has quickened.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers.

I’m not sure what this is anymore.

I shake my head. “I know.”

Her fingers trail down my cheek, her touch so light it feels like a ghost. My heart is racing, and I don’t know if it’s from fear or arousal.

This is messed up.

I should push her away. I should scream, yell, remind her of everything she’s done to me. But instead, I lean into her touch, my body betraying me.

“I hate you,” I whisper, though the words lack conviction.

“I know,” she says again, her voice breaking.

And then her lips are on mine. It’s soft and searching, like she’s waiting for me to stop her. But I don’t.

Her hands slide to my neck, pulling me closer, and suddenly it’s like all the tension that’s been building between us has found a way to burst.

The kiss deepens, growing urgent and messy, and for a moment, I forget where I am.

I forget about the cuffs on my wrists, the bedframe digging into my back, the fact that she’s the reason I’m here in the first place.

All I can focus on is the way her lips feel against mine, the way her hands grip me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.

When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing heavily. Her forehead rests against mine, her eyes closed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“For kissing me?”

“For everything.”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to feel. All I know is that there’s no going back.

“Laurel,” I say softly, my voice trembling.

She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes filled with something I can’t name. Regret? Longing? Both?

“This doesn’t change anything,” I say, though the words feel hollow.

She nods, her expression unreadable. “I know.”

But it does. It changes everything, and we both know it.

She pulls me back to her lips, her hands moving to slid my pajamas pants off my body.