Just Once

Chapter 11-Sofia

The night air was crisp, the faint hum of the city below a constant reminder of the world continuing on, oblivious to the storm brewing on this balcony. Zayden's words lingered in the air like smoke: Someone's watching us.

I hated that I hadn't noticed it first.

My eyes swept over the glittering room behind the glass doors, scanning the crowd. Everyone looked the part: polished, poised, and utterly self-absorbed. But I knew better. There was always someone who didn't belong, someone whose intentions were darker than the champagne they sipped.

"Do you see them?" Zayden asked, his voice low.

"Not yet," I replied, my tone sharp.

I stepped closer to the glass, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor. From this vantage point, I could see nearly every corner of the room. It was a skill I'd honed over years of navigating rooms like this one-knowing who to watch, who to charm, and who to destroy.

And then I saw him.

He was standing near the back, half-hidden in the shadows of a towering floral arrangement. He wore a suit like everyone else, but it didn't fit quite right-too loose in the shoulders, too tight at the waist. His posture was stiff, his eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal.

Amateur.

"There," I said, tilting my head slightly in his direction.

Zayden followed my gaze, his expression darkening. "You're sure?"

"Positive," I said, already turning toward the door.

"Sofia-"

"I'll handle it," I cut him off, my voice icy.

He reached for my arm, but I stepped out of his grasp, my eyes narrowing. "Stay here, Zayden. This is my game."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Smart man.

I strode back into the room, my movements purposeful but unhurried. Drawing attention wasn't the goal-not yet. I moved through the crowd like a predator stalking its prey, my smile disarming, my presence commanding.

The man didn't see me coming.

By the time he noticed me, I was already standing in front of him, blocking his exit.

"Enjoying the party?" I asked, my voice smooth and deceptively warm.

He blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to feigned nonchalance. "I-uh-yes. It's a lovely event."

His accent was faint, Eastern European, but his nerves betrayed him. He avoided eye contact, his hand twitching slightly at his side.

"Funny," I said, tilting my head. "I don't remember inviting you."

His eyes widened just enough to confirm my suspicions.

"I'm with-"

"Don't lie to me," I snapped, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

The mask slipped, and for a brief moment, I saw the fear in his eyes. He took a step back, but I stepped forward, closing the distance between us.

"You've been watching me all night," I said, my tone cold enough to freeze the blood in his veins. "Why?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, his voice trembling.

I smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was the kind of smile that made men like him realize they'd made a mistake.

"Wrong answer," I said, my hand darting out to grab his wrist.

He tried to pull away, but my grip was iron. I twisted his arm just enough to make him wince, leaning in close so only he could hear me.

"Let's take this somewhere more private," I said, my tone laced with menace.

Before he could protest, Zayden appeared at my side, his presence a dark shadow that only added to the weight of the moment.

"Need some help?" he asked, his voice casual but his eyes sharp.

"I've got it," I replied, my gaze never leaving the man in front of me.

The three of us slipped out of the room unnoticed, the noise of the party fading as we entered a secluded hallway.

"Talk," I demanded, shoving him against the wall.

"I don't know anything!" he blurted out, his eyes darting between me and Zayden.

I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You've been following me all night. Watching me. Who sent you?"

He shook his head, his breathing ragged. "No one-I swear!"

"Wrong answer," I said, my hand tightening around his wrist. I took out a small pocket knife strapped to my thigh beneath the slit of my dress. A cut just below his jawline, just enough to make him cry but I shushed his whimper by pulling his hair back.

Zayden leaned against the wall, watching the scene unfold with a faint smirk. "You're not very good at this, are you?" he said to the man, his tone mocking.

The man's eyes filled with panic, and I could see the cracks in his composure widening.

"I'll ask you one more time," I said, my voice like ice. "Who sent you?"

He hesitated, and that was his second mistake.

I stepped back, giving him just enough space to think he might escape, before slamming my hand against the wall beside his head. The sound echoed through the hallway, and his flinch was satisfying. The blood dripped from his jaw.

"You think I'm playing games?" I hissed. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

He swallowed hard, his face pale. "The Society," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I exchanged a glance with Zayden, whose smirk had vanished.

"What do they want?" I demanded.

"I-I don't know," he stammered. "I was just told to watch you. To report back."

"To who?"

"I don't know!"

I believed him. He was too scared to lie now.

"Get out," I said, stepping back.

He blinked, confused.

"Go," I repeated, my voice sharp. "And tell whoever sent you that if they want to play games with me, they'd better be prepared to lose."

He didn't need to be told twice. He bolted down the hallway, disappearing into the night.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, I turned to Zayden.

"The Society's watching us," I said, my voice steady despite the fury boiling beneath the surface.

"Good," he replied, his smirk returning. "Let them watch. They'll learn soon enough that they picked the wrong people to mess with."

I didn't respond, but my resolve hardened.

This wasn't just a game anymore. It was war