Page 137 of Auctioned Innocence
Sofia stares at the monitors in amazement, her fingers paused over the keyboard. “Marco, what the hell was that?”
“Emergency Protocol Seventeen,” Marco responds, wincing as he operates the controls with his good arm. “Dad had them installed after the Torrino incident. Non-lethal but highly effective.” He glances at Sofia’s shocked expression. “There’s a lot about this place you don’t know yet.”
“Apparently,” Sofia mutters, quickly adapting her strategy to account for defensive capabilities she didn’t know existed. “What other surprises does this place have?”
“We’ll discuss the full capabilities later,” Marco replies. “Right now, let’s focus on staying alive, yeah?”
Static suddenly cuts through our secure feed. A familiar voice fills the command center, transmitted through speakers I didn’t even know existed.
“Impressive, little girl.” Lorenzo’s smooth tone makes my trigger finger itch. “You always were too clever for your own good.”
Sofia’s face hardens as she traces the signal source, her movements sharp and efficient. “He’s using the building’s emergency broadcast system. It’s hardwired, not networked. That’s how he’s reaching us.”
“Funny,” she replies coldly into her headset, not missing a beat in her coordination. “I was just thinking how sloppy you’ve become in your old age.”
I move closer to her automatically, but she waves me off without looking up. She has this completely under control.
“Sloppy?” Lorenzo laughs through the speakers. “I have your family running like rats. Your parents in hiding. Your precious home under siege. And now?—”
“And now I’m tearing apart your entire network.” Her smile turns triumphant as she pulls up screen after screen of compromised data. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize your coding signatures? Wouldn’t see your digital fingerprints all over the Council’s security?”
On our monitors, I watch more of Lorenzo’s men trying to breach the sealed sections of the building. Sofia’s already three steps ahead, redirecting them into kill zones where Marco’s teams wait in ambush.
“Team four, hold your position,” she commands, watching enemy movement with the patience of a chess master. “Let them commit to the eastern approach, then hit them from behind.”
The coordinated assault that follows is poetry in motion. Sofia doesn’t just coordinate—she orchestrates, timing each move that turns our defensive position into an offensive masterpiece.
A pause from Lorenzo, then, “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” She types furiously while simultaneously coordinating three separate engagements. “Should we test that? Maybe start with your private accounts? The ones you used to pay Viktor’s men? Or perhaps the recorded conversations with the Council members you’ve been bribing?”
“Movement on level two!” Marco calls out, tracking new contacts on our screens. “They’re trying to flank through the wine cellar.”
“I see them.” Sofia’s response is immediate. “Teams eight and nine, intercept at checkpoint delta. Use the narrow corridors to your advantage—they can’t bring their numbers to bear in confined spaces.”
I watch in fascination and pride as she turns every disadvantage into an advantage, every weakness into a strength. The wine cellar’s narrow passages become chokepoints. The building’s multiple levels become layered defenses. Even our reduced numbers become an asset as her strategy forces the enemy to spread thin.
“Sofia,” Marco warns as more gunfire erupts in the levels above us, his good hand gripping his weapon while blood seeps through his makeshift bandage. “We need to move soon. I can’t coordinate the perimeter defense much longer with this shoulder.”
“Not yet.” She’s fully focused on multiple screens, sweat sliding down her forehead from the concentration required to manage this many moving pieces simultaneously. “Almost got it…there.”
Security feeds flash across our monitors—but not our feeds. Lorenzo’s private cameras from locations throughout the city. His safe houses. His meetings with Viktor and the corrupt Council members. Years of carefully hidden evidence now displayed for us to see.
“That’s not possible,” Lorenzo snarls through the speakers. “You couldn’t have broken through those systems?—”
“What, your encryption?” she scoffs, even as she directs another maneuver that traps six more of his men in a service corridor. “Your personal networks were so easy to crack. It was almost insulting to my intelligence.”
I catch movement on one of our restored security feeds—the west corridor. A full squad moving in tandem, heavier weapons than the others.
“Incoming!” I call out. “These are not street muscle.”
We dive for cover as armor-piercing rounds tear through the reinforced walls of the command center.
Marco’s men return fire, but I can see the strain on Marco’s face as his wounded shoulder limits his mobility. Blood loss is making him pale, but he refuses to back down.
And Sofia… Sofia moves like she was born for warfare. Every shot finds its mark as she provides covering fire for her own coordination. Every movement flows seamlessly with our defensive strategy. She’s fighting, leading, commanding with the natural authority of someone who belongs on a battlefield.
“Team two, fall back to secondary positions!” she orders while putting three rounds into an attacker trying to breach our left flank. “They’re using military-grade equipment—standard cover won’t hold!”
