Page 144 of Auctioned Innocence
I pull myself fully upright, ignoring the way the world tilts dangerously. Sofia’s voice echoes in my memory, her calm confidence as she outlined contingencies I didn’t even see coming. She’d known James would use his inside knowledgeagainst us. Had prepared for the possibility that standard approaches wouldn’t work.
“She may not have had time to study much during her captivity, but she’s had access to all of Lorenzo’s communications and operational data since we hacked his systems.” I start moving toward my designated position, each step sending fresh waves of pain through my skull. “James knows our tactics, but Sofia knows his current setup, his personnel, his security protocols—all of it.”
“You think she wanted to get captured?” Marco’s voice is heavy with disbelief.
“She knew it was a possibility and built it into her strategy.” I reach the concealed position Sofia had identified during our planning—a vantage point that gives me clear sight lines to the warehouse’s weak points. “She’s inside their security perimeter now, with all the intelligence she gathered about their operations.”
Marco exhales. “I should never have agreed to this. It’s a hell of a gamble.”
“It’s Sofia.” Despite everything—the pain, the fear, the crushing weight of watching her disappear into that building—I find myself smiling. “We just have to trust her.”
Through my scope, I can see movement inside the warehouse. Figures passing by windows, the organized activity of people implementing a plan. But there’s something off about the patterns, something that doesn’t match the ambush.
“Marco, are you seeing the thermal imaging from your position?”
“Yeah, why?”
I swallow. “Count the heat signatures on the second floor.”
A pause as Marco adjusts his equipment. “I’m reading…seven individuals. But the communication intercepts suggested at least twelve people in Lorenzo’s immediate security detail.”
“Either our intel was wrong, or they’re repositioning people for something,” I say, though uncertainty gnaws at me. “Could be moving guards to secure other locations, or…”
“Or what?” Marco asks urgently.
I force down the darker possibilities. “Or they’re consolidating around Sofia. Making sure she can’t escape.”
“How can we be sure she’s even conscious yet?”
I think of Sofia in that command center, coordinating a battle while simultaneously hacking Lorenzo’s entire network. The woman who turned a defensive position into an offensive masterpiece, who’d outlined contingencies for exactly this kind of scenario.
“I can’t be sure,” I admit, checking my ammunition. “But she planned for this possibility. Had backup strategies if the approach went wrong.”
“That’s a hell of a thing to bet on,” Marco remarks warily.
“It’s Sofia,” I say quietly, moving toward my insertion point. “She doesn’t make plans she can’t execute.”
Marco’s voice carries doubt. “And if she’s still unconscious? If she can’t implement whatever contingencies she planned?”
I look at the warehouse, thinking about everything that’s brought us to this moment. Lorenzo’s decades of manipulation. James’s betrayal. The systematic hunting of girls like Sofia and Maisie. All of it ending here, tonight, with a twenty-two-year-old woman who refused to stay protected when she could fight instead.
“Then we adapt,” I say, checking my watch. “But we stick to the timeline she gave us. East wing maintenance entrance, follow the route she mapped out.”
Sofia’s eyes during our planning session dance in my vision, the absolute confidence in her voice when she’d outlined contingencies for exactly this scenario. The woman who’d survived captivity, who’d turned Lorenzo’s own networksagainst him, who’d proven time and again that underestimating her was a fatal mistake.
I’m already moving toward the insertion point. “Marco?”
“Yeah?”
I check my watch—time to move, time to trust, time to let Sofia’s planning prove itself. “They made a mistake taking her inside their own facility. Whether she’s conscious or not, she knows that building better than they think she does.”
As I approach the east wing entrance, I can see the route Sofia had identified during our planning—the maintenance areas, the blind spots in their security coverage, the path that would let us get inside without triggering their main defenses.
Whether she’s awake to execute her own escape or not, she’s given us the tools to reach her.
The door I need to access stands slightly ajar—whether from Sofia’s preparation or simple negligence, I can’t tell. But it’s the opening we need.
I step toward the entrance, weapon ready, following the path Sofia mapped out.
