Destroying Love

Twenty-three

I fucking hate feeling hopeless.

But I have to remind myself that I'm not, though. I know I still have two knives hidden in my boots. I know who I am.

Sophia Montgomery. The damn Bird.

I have experience. I can do this. I can save these innocent women. If I can't save myself, I can at least try to do something for them.

It's strange. As an agent, I can't think about the possibility of being the reason for someone's death. I have to think about my mission, the agency, and my own life. But that's unfair and I don't give a shit about that, right now.

I'm not in a mission, right now. I'm in survival mode. For me, but mostly for the ten women in the room who didn't ask to be here. They probably have a family worrying about them.

The only family I have left is, of course, the agency. However, it's not the same thing, and if I have to risk my life because I'm the Bird, to save these women's lives, I won't hesitate.

I can only hope that Britt uses that brain of hers and finds me. How ironic is it that, right now, I so desperately want my best friend to find me and annoy me with questions about a man I don't feel anything for anymore?

I shake my head, closing my eyes. A sudden shiver runs down my spine at the thought of blue, intense eyes, and brown messy hair. It's probably just the temperature of the room, but still.

What is wrong with me? And do I have the right to think about Brandon, right now?

Maybe. What if he stopped me to go out, again? I wouldn't be here, but I also wouldn't have found out about all the women kept in hostage here.

What if they never find me and come to the conclusion that I'm dead? I wonder how would Brandon react.

But he did think you were dead as well.

I sigh softly to not wake up the women beside me. I almost forgot about that. It's crazy to think that if I didn't change my phone number, he would have been able to call me. Things would be different. He would have left the... East Agency, to come back to us.

To me.

But this is the past now. And I seriously wonder why I am thinking about all of that.

A few hours later, women start to wake. I probably got two hours of sleep. I'm already standing up when the women open their eyes, and I head towards the small, unreachable, window.

Unreachable, my ass. I'm Sophia Montgomery, goddammit. If I can at least see something, get a clue to where we are, I won't feel so hopeless.

"What are you doing?" a small, tired voice asks behind me. Hanna.

She stands up to follow me. I glance up at the window.

"Something," I reply, calculating my next move. If I jump high enough...

"I told you we already tried everything," she says carefully, probably sensing the sudden determination radiating throughout my whole body.

I crack my knuckles. "You guys tried everything. I did not."

She comes closer to the wall and glances up at the window.

"All right. I'll stand here if you need me to help you. Be careful, some of us—"

I'm already taking a few steps back, and then I'm running and jumping the highest I can. My hand grips the concrete ledge below the window, and I hiss myself slightly, grimacing when my feet slide down the wall.