Kidnapped Alpha Mate

Chapter 15- The Weight of Truth

Sophia's P.O.V.

Edward pushed himself to his feet, the chair groaning slightly against the wooden floor. He walked toward me with deliberate steps, his hands tucked into his pockets. The faint scuff of his shoes against the floor seemed to echo in the quiet room.

"I'm so sorry for pressuring you to talk about it. I know it's a sensitive subject," he said, his voice low and steady. There was an earnestness in his tone that made me glance up despite myself. His eyes, soft and apologetic, searched mine as though trying to convey sincerity beyond his words.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and nodded. "I accept your apology. It's just... I've only known you for barely two days, and doing a background check felt invasive." My voice wavered slightly, but I squared my shoulders, willing confidence into my posture.

His lips curved into a gentle smile, one that seemed almost tentative. He took a small step closer, the warmth of his presence inching toward me. I realized with a start that he might be moving in for a hug. My body tensed, and before I could stop myself, I stepped back, wrapping my arms around my torso like a shield. The movement was instinctual, protective.

Edward froze mid-step, his expression shifting to one of confusion and subtle hurt. His eyebrows knitted together, and for a moment, his vulnerability was laid bare. The air between us felt thick, almost tangible, like a string pulled taut and ready to snap.

"I'm choosing to tell you what the article was really about," I said, breaking the silence. My voice was firm, though my hands clutched my arms tightly. "But only because I don't need you looking at me with judgment while we're here for the time being."

The words hung in the air, and I could almost feel the awkwardness wrapping itself around us. His shoulders dropped slightly, as if weighed down by something unsaid. 

Samantha stood up from the couch, her hand clasped tightly with Michael's. "Alright, it's time for us to head out," she announced. Miller trailed closely behind them, his footsteps light but purposeful, as they made their way toward the doorway, leaving the living room behind.

Em and I settled into the small, worn couch, the fabric soft but a little scratchy against my arms. The cushions sagged slightly beneath our weight, cradling us as if inviting us to sink deeper. Across the room, Edward and Jackson mirrored us on another couch, its leather surface creaking faintly as they got comfortable.

Michael cleared his throat, his voice tentative as he broke the silence. "Um... so was the newspaper right about your father?"

The question hung in the air, sharp and heavy. I hesitated, feeling the warmth of my palm as I absentmindedly twirled one of my curly locks between my fingers. "Partially," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

The room grew still, the soft hum of the heater the only sound. All eyes were on me, expectant but patient. My heart hammered in my chest, its rhythm so loud I was sure they could hear it. I tried to focus on the faint scent of lavender coming from a candle on the coffee table, grounding myself. Memories, sharp and uninvited, began to surface, threatening to overwhelm me.

I nodded slowly, as if that small motion could steady me. "Well... um... it started when I was about five," I began, my voice unsteady but determined. I glanced at Em, who gave me a small, encouraging smile.

"My dad got a new job in Greensboro, so we moved there," I continued, my gaze drifting to the floor, where the faded rug's intricate patterns seemed to blur together. "For the first few years, it was good. We were... happy. A real family." My throat tightened, the words catching for a moment.

I swallowed hard and pushed on. "But then the company my dad worked for had to make budget cuts. They fired people—my dad included." I paused, the weight of those memories pressing down on me, making the room feel smaller.