The courtyard was empty when Sophie returned the next morning. The frost from the night before still clung stubbornly to the ground, glittering faintly in the dim light of dawn. The silence was almost eerie, broken only by the crunch of her boots as she walked toward the training area. Her body still ached from the blindfold exercise, her muscles tight and protesting every movement. Yet, there was a strange sense of accomplishment that lingered from the day before, a spark of confidence that she clung to like a lifeline.
Today, however, felt different. The air was heavy, thick with an unspoken tension that set her nerves on edge. She scanned the training yard, but neither Leo nor Elena was in sight. Instead, she saw Peter standing near the far edge of the field, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Peter rarely involved himself in the more grueling aspects of Sophie's training. He observed from the sidelines, offering quiet advice or encouragement when needed. So, seeing him here, waiting for her, was unsettling.
"What's going on?" Sophie asked, her voice steady despite the unease prickling at her spine.
Peter didn't answer immediately. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him. Without a word, he led her toward a small building at the edge of the compound—a place she had never been before. The walls were weathered, the wooden door slightly warped from years of exposure to the elements. It didn't look like much, but the way Peter moved, purposeful and silent, made Sophie's pulse quicken.
When they stepped inside, the air shifted. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The walls were lined with shelves, each one filled with dusty files, old maps, and faded photographs. A table stood in the center, its surface cluttered with papers and strange-looking devices. The atmosphere was thick with the weight of history, the ghosts of battles fought and lives lost.
Peter gestured for her to sit, pulling out a chair across from her. His usually calm demeanor was tinged with something Sophie couldn't quite place—hesitation, perhaps, or even regret.
"What's this about?" Sophie asked, her voice quieter now, the weight of the room pressing down on her.
Peter leaned forward, his hands resting on the table. "You've been doing well in your training," he began, his tone measured. "Better than I expected. But there's something we need to address before we move forward."
Sophie frowned. "What do you mean?"
Peter reached into a folder and pulled out a photograph. He slid it across the table toward her. Sophie hesitated before picking it up, her breath catching as her eyes focused on the image. It was a picture of her family—her parents, her younger brother, and herself. The photo was old, taken years before everything had fallen apart. They were smiling, carefree, oblivious to the storm that would one day shatter their lives.
Her throat tightened as memories flooded back, unbidden and sharp. The warmth of her mother's embrace, the sound of her father's laughter, the way her brother used to chase her around the garden. It was all so vivid, so achingly real, that for a moment, she forgot where she was.
"Why are you showing me this?" Sophie asked, her voice strained.
Peter's expression softened, but his eyes remained intense. "Because this is why you're here. Everything you've endured, every ounce of pain you've pushed through, has been for them. For what you lost."
Sophie placed the photograph back on the table, her hands trembling. "I know that. I don't need a reminder."
"You do," Peter said firmly. "Because the road ahead is only going to get harder. And if you lose sight of why you're fighting, you'll break. I've seen it happen before."
Sophie looked away, her jaw tightening. "I'm not going to break."
"I hope you don't," Peter said, leaning back in his chair. "But you need to understand something, Sophie. What you're doing—it's not just about avenging the past or protecting Alex Jr. It's about finding a way to live with the choices you'll have to make."
His words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Sophie clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I've already made my choice," she said, her voice low but steady. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe."
Peter studied her for a moment, his gaze piercing. "And what about yourself? Are you prepared to lose pieces of who you are along the way?"
Sophie faltered, the question striking a nerve she hadn't expected. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, she looked down at the photograph again, her heart aching with the weight of everything she had lost and everything she still stood to lose.
Peter reached across the table, placing a hand on hers. "You're strong, Sophie. Stronger than you realize. But strength isn't just about endurance. It's about knowing when to hold on and when to let go."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of the lightbulb overhead. Sophie's mind raced, her thoughts a tangled web of doubt and determination.
Finally, she took a deep breath and met Peter's gaze. "I won't let them down," she said, her voice firm. "Not my family. Not Alex Jr. And not myself."
Peter nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Good. Because the next phase of your training isn't just about survival. It's about becoming the person you need to be to face what's coming."
Sophie frowned. "What do you mean?"
Peter stood, his movements deliberate. He walked over to one of the shelves and pulled out another file, placing it on the table in front of her. "This," he said, tapping the folder, "is everything we know about the people who destroyed your life. It's time you started preparing for them."
Sophie stared at the folder, her heart pounding. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the worn cover. For months, she had trained blindly, driven by the hope of one day confronting the people responsible for her pain. And now, finally, she was being given the chance to face them.
But as she opened the folder and began to read, she realized that the path ahead was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined. The faces staring back at her from the photographs were cold and calculating, their names etched into her memory like a brand. These weren't just enemies—they were monsters. And if she was going to defeat them, she would have to become something she never thought possible.
For Alex. For herself. For everyone who still had a chance at a better future.
"I'm ready," she said, her voice steady.
Peter's gaze was unwavering. "Let's hope so."