Chapter 5 - The Trap Is Set
“Marcus.” Declan’s voice was rough over the speakerphone, but his authority was absolute. “We have a rat. It’s Gable.” A brief silence on the other end. “Understood, Boss. Orders?” “She’s trying to frame Sophia. I want Mrs. Gable isolated. But don’t touch her yet. The O’Connors missed their shot at me last night. If they think I’m weak, they’ll push the estate tonight. Gable will be their inside man to open the gates.” “I’ll double the perimeter. Should I move you and Miss Reed to the safehouse?”
Declan looked at Sophia. She stood tall, her arms crossed, her fear masked by pure determination. “No,” Declan said. “We stay. We let them walk into the trap.” The line clicked dead. Declan stood up, favoring his injured side, and bypassed his tailored suits in the walk-in closet. He pressed a hidden button, and a mahogany panel slid open to reveal a hidden armory packed with rifles, handguns, tactical vests, and ammunition.
“You have a war room in your closet,” Sophia stated, staring in disbelief. “I’m a pragmatist,” he replied, pulling down a Kevlar vest and tossing a smaller one toward her. “Put this on. Under your clothes. I need you to go downstairs.” “You just said they might attack.” “They won’t attack until nightfall. Gable needs to think her plan is working. I need you to go down to her office, confront her about the letter. Play panicked. Play desperate. Keep her distracted while Marcus disables the external comms.”
Sophia gripped the heavy vest. “You want me to act like a terrified maid.” “Can you do it?” She thought of Elise, the hospital bills, and the men who had threatened her at her door. She knew exactly how to play terrified. “Yes.”
Ten minutes later, Sophia walked down the grand staircase. She had mussed her hair, rubbed her eyes until they were red, and let her shoulders slump. She knocked on Mrs. Gable’s office door and entered. The fake letter sat perfectly centered on the blotter. “Ah. Miss Reed. Have you come to your senses?” Sophia forced her voice to tremble. “Please, Mrs. Gable. You can’t show that to Mr. Walsh. I swear, I haven’t spoken to Sullivan since my debt was paid.” Mrs. Gable smiled, leaning back. “Truth is so subjective in our world, Sophia. The fact is, Mr. Walsh is a paranoid man. Once a seed of doubt is planted, it grows like a weed.” “What do you want?” Sophia begged. “I want you to leave. Pack your bags. Disappear. If you are gone by sunset, I will burn this letter. If you stay, I will give it to Finn, and you will not survive the night.”
Sophia let out a pathetic sob, covering her face. Through the gaps in her fingers, she watched Mrs. Gable’s desk phone. The little red light blinked twice, then went dark. Marcus had cut the lines, and a jammer would ensure Mrs. Gable's burner phone had no signal either. “I’ll go,” Sophia whispered. “Just... give me an hour to pack.” “You have exactly one hour.”
May you like
Sophia fled the room, letting the door slam behind her. As soon as she hit the stairs, the tears vanished and her face turned back to stone. She ran back up to the secured wing, swiping her card and locking the oak door. Declan was sitting on the edge of his desk, a loaded rifle resting across his knees. “Done,” Sophia said, adjusting the Kevlar underneath her sweater. “She thinks I’m leaving.”
“Good.” Declan stood and walked toward her. He reached out, his hands brushing her collar to straighten it. The proximity sent a shockwave through her chest, completely overriding her fear. “When this starts,” his voice dropped an octave, “you stay behind me. You do not try to be a hero. You do not try to clean up the mess. Understood?” “I’m not a maid anymore, Declan.” He looked at her mouth, then up to her eyes. “No,” he agreed softly. “You’re not.”
