Chapter 3 Three

Three Days Later...

Sophia POV

"What do you mean he won't speak to anyone but me?" I asked Agent Thompson over the phone.

"We've tried several other evaluators, and they've all been either threatened or injured. He insists he'll only talk to you," Thompson explained.

This new information surprised me. I had thought by leaving Damian alone in prison, I'd be free from his influence, but he was proving to be relentless.

"Listen, Sophia, you're our only hope at this point. We can't get any useful information from him unless you speak with him. He seems to have taken a liking to you," Thompson pointed out.

I was about to respond when the sound of whistling startled me. I turned to see Marco examining one of my paintings.

"What's that noise in the background?" Thompson asked.

"Nothing, just some interference," I laughed nervously, gesturing at Marco to be quiet. "Alright, look, I'll return to the prison for one more session, but this is absolutely the last time," I decided.

"Great, I'll arrange your flight."

"When is this flight scheduled?" I asked, mentally reviewing my calendar.

"Immediately," he replied.

"Immediately?" I glanced at my watch, realizing it was only 8 AM. "I can't conduct a session right now! I'm not prepared at all," I protested.

"You're a professional, Sophia. Understand that if you handle this session well, it could significantly advance your career," he replied.

I didn't appreciate the implication that I needed external motivation to do my job effectively.

"Fine, I'll be ready in an hour," I conceded.

"Excellent. We'll be expecting you," he said before hanging up.

"Off to see Damian today?" Marco asked, still admiring the painting.

"Your boss is insufferable! He refuses to cooperate with anyone else and now insists I keep coming to see him. This is ridiculous!" I vented while Marco watched me impassively.

"When the boss told me to guard you, I was surprised. I thought he had other plans for me, but a woman was never on the list. You must mean something to him."

"I don't care what value he places on me. As far as I'm concerned, he's still a criminal who controls illegal activities."

Marco shook his head and approached me, his gaze steady. "The media can peddle many lies, but it's not my place to reveal the truth. I believe when the time is right, you'll see things clearly."

I moved away from him and headed to my room. I had no time for his cryptic messages; Thompson had likely scheduled the flight, and I needed to get to the airport as soon as possible.

After changing into a simple, professional outfit, I returned to the living room where Marco was watching TV.

"Need a ride to the airport?" he offered.

"That won't be necessary," I said, heading for the door. "And I suggest you keep a low profile. I don't want people getting the wrong idea," I added, rolling my eyes.

The truth was, I did want someone to keep an eye on my apartment, but I hated that it had to be someone connected to Damian.

***

Hours later, I was back in the Chicago prison, heading towards Damian's cell. He certainly had a lot to answer for.

"Listen carefully," Thompson instructed as we stood outside the holding room. "Get him to divulge as much information as possible. Rest assured, we have security measures in place. If he tries anything dangerous, we can incapacitate him immediately."

Taking a deep breath, I entered the room as the door opened. To my surprise, Damian was calmly reading a book.

"Ah, she returns at last," he remarked, closing the book and placing it on the table. "I'll need the audio recording in this room to be muted," Damian added, glancing at the camera.

"That's not possible. They need to hear everything we discuss," I objected.

"Then I won't speak. Having Dr. Carter here to document our conversation is sufficient." I massaged my temples, already feeling stressed by his demands.

"Very well, we'll disable the audio recorder only. The camera will remain on for her safety," Thompson's voice came through the speaker.

I approached the table where Damian had gestured for me to sit. He looked pleased to see me, his trademark smirk in place.

Glancing at the now-silent audio recorder, I turned to Damian. "Why did you send Macro to protect me? And how are you able to make phone calls from this cell?" I demanded.

"Let's just say I have my ways. As for Marco, his presence is for your own safety," he stated.

"What do you mean?" I pressed.

"I thought by staying here and biding my time, I could plan my next move. But I've received word of a new threat. If they discover your involvement in my case, your life would be in danger."

I took a moment to process this information, trying to maintain my composure despite the creeping fear.

"You're not 'biding your time,' Damian. You're going to face justice," I asserted. He laughed at my statement.

"You underestimate me, sweetheart. My departure from this prison should be happening right about..." He glanced at an imaginary watch. "Now."

The door burst open, revealing a guard with a bloodied face.

"Took you long enough," Damian remarked casually. "Is the jet ready?" he asked, rising to his feet.

"What's going on here?" I asked, utterly confused.

"What does it look like, sweetheart? We're leaving," he replied, picking up his book.

"We?" I echoed, staring at him in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'll explain everything soon," Damian said. Before I could respond, I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head, and then darkness engulfed me.