Occidis: Sophia Moreau, Book 1

by Aisha Tritle

  Sophia’s voice rose. “I said it’s fine, Ilya.”

  Silence fell over the room. Both Ilya and Jonathan’s eyes were boring into Sophia. Her cheeks flushed, but the rest of her was ice cold.

  “Thank you for telling me,” said Sophia, backing away.

  The two men stared at her, baffled by her reaction. Jonathan walked towards her, but Sophia put up a hand to stop him. As soon as she was out the door, she bolted.

  She passed Saren in the hall. The woman called out to her, “Where are you going?”

  But Sophia didn’t stop—and kept going until she reached her room. She slammed the door closed with so much force it almost broke. Tears streamed down her face as she crumpled to the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest, her body convulsing with sobs.

  If Ilya had even told her yesterday, maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much. But he hadn’t. He’d waited…

  Sophia couldn’t breathe. The still air in her room was suffocating. She walked to the patio and threw the doors open. The ocean breeze caressed her face and calmed her. Her lungs filled with the fresh air. Her body warmed by the sun.

  She leaned over the railing. Looking down, the distance from the patio to the beach was about ten feet. With one swift leap, Sophia dropped to the ground and took off.

  23

  The tide was coming in. Salt water lapped Sophia’s toes. Her shoes were deposited safely on the sand some twenty yards away. She’d trekked a few miles away from the house. Eventually, the beach had led her to an endless spread of flat, dark rocks—smoothed by the daily ritual of ocean waves.

  Sophia sat on the largest rock of all. She wasn’t quite sure how long she’d been there. But the sunniest part of the afternoon was over.

  She knew she should probably head back to the house. But she wasn’t going to. Screw training. She was going to sit on this damn rock until she didn’t want to anymore.

  Sophia laid down and turned her eyes to the sky. Ilya had slept with her best friend. More than that, he’d gotten her pregnant.

  “Can’t be friends with Kristin without soon finding yourself in her bed,” he’d said all those days ago.

  Sophia scoffed. It made sense. Why did it have to make sense? She didn’t want it to.

  Despite the hours she’d spent in meditation, she still didn’t know exactly how she felt. Hurt? Yes. Disappointed? Yes. Angry? Probably. Was her heart broken?

  She shaded her face from the sun. Her heart wasn’t broken. If things had progressed, she’d be more devastated. But she was safe. It had been nipped in the bud. A bitter sigh escaped her. She probably didn’t have much of a heart to break anyway.

  The water was up to her thighs now. It was coming in fast. Sophia didn’t care. She was a strong swimmer. She dared the tide to come and take her; she’d just swim her way out of it.

  Sophia took off her running jacket and set it to the side. Stupid; that was how she felt.

  “Idiot,” she muttered to herself.

  The water touched her shoulders. Her clothes were soaked. It didn’t matter. The coolness refreshed her.

  A cry shattered the tranquil moment. “Sophia!”

  She sat up and looked toward the beach. Jonathan’s tall frame was making its way to her.

  A frown crossed Sophia’s face. She’d walked so far to get away. “How did you find me?”

  Jonathan wore a navy blue track suit. The ocean was soaking enough of his clothes that Sophia wondered why he didn’t stop.

  “Come back with me,” he said.

  Sophia stayed sitting. “I’ll go back later.”

  “At least move back, so the tide doesn’t sweep you away.”

  Sophia huffed. “Could you just leave, please?”

  Much to her dismay, Jonathan stretched out an arm and pulled her up.

  It irked her how strong he was. “Let go,” she protested, trying to wrench her arm free.

  But Jonathan’s grip was firm. He pulled her away from the tide and towards a part of the rocks that rose up to form a hill.

  “Up,” he commanded.

  “What?”

  “You want to stay out here? Climb.”

  Sophia glared at him in defiance. She definitely wasn’t partial to being manhandled.

  Jonathan coolly held her gaze. “Go on,” he said.

  With a disdainful shake of her head, Sophia climbed. She stopped halfway up and situated herself on a sheet of rock that jutted out like a ledge.

  “Is this alright?” she asked, not bothering to keep the contempt out of her voice.

  To her surprise, Jonathan climbed up and joined her. “This should be fine,” he said, brushing his brown hair to the side.

  He was staying? Sophia wondered if she should’ve just gone back with him…

  No. Ilya was at the house. So was Saren. She wasn’t ready to deal with them.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” said Sophia. “How did you find me?”

  Jonathan pensively stared at the beautiful scene in front of them. “I’ve used this place for the same purpose before,” he said.

  “What purpose is that?”

  “To calm myself, gather my thoughts.”

  Sophia felt her annoyance starting to abate.

  Jonathan shot her a small smile. “I never wanted the tide to carry me out though,” he said.

  Sophia’s eyes widened, afraid he’d gotten the wrong impression. “I wasn’t going to kill myself,” she said.

  “I know.” His eyes seemed to bore into her soul.

  Sophia looked away, not sure what to say. A few minutes of silence followed. The tide was almost to the bottom of the hill.

  “Looks like we’re stuck here for now,” said Jonathan.

  “I can swim,” Sophia replied, then felt like kicking herself. Why had she said that? It wasn’t like she was aching to go and swim back to the house.

  Jonathan chuckled. “I’m sure you’re a great swimmer,” he said.

  Sophia pulled her hand over her face. He didn’t usually give compliments. He was probably being nice because he pitied her.

  She cleared her throat. “You know, I’ll be fine,” said Sophia. “You didn’t have to come out here and find me.”

  Jonathan took his time replying. Sophia had just given up on an answer when he spoke.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sophia stared. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “Because you don’t deserve this,” said Jonathan, voice low. “I should’ve just pulled you out, set you up somewhere under an alias, and left you alone.”

  His jaw clenched. He looked…angry.

  “What would’ve been the point of pulling me out of Occidis if I’d be of no use to you?” asked Sophia.

  “I could’ve let you go after you convinced Davey to transfer the information. It wasn’t right for me to talk to Ilya about being fair to you when I haven’t been fair to you myself. I’ve pulled you into a journey that you never asked for.”

  “No!” cried Sophia, before knowing what’d she done. She took a deep breath. “I prefer this. Really, I do.”

  Had she just said that?

  Jonathan’s brows knitted themselves together. “But why? Why do you prefer this? Do you even know, Sophia?”

  Sophia’s eyes shifted back and forth as if reading her thoughts on the face in front of her. For the first time since he had pulled her out of Program Occidis, she did. She knew.

  “I have to redeem myself.”

  “You’re seeking redemption for your sins?”

  Sophia nodded. “I’ve done so much evil under Norbert’s hand…killed so many… and he has to be stopped. I used to feel trapped, discouraged. I used to think that if I didn’t kill all those people, someone else would. Someone would always be there to fill in. And that was true, but I should’ve tried to do something. But now I know, if I don’t try and stop him—if we don’t stop him, then no one else will. No one’s going to fill in for us. If I have to kill him, then so be it. He won’t make me kill anyone ever aga
in.”

  Jonathan studied her. “We’ll get you your redemption,” he said. “I’m just sorry about the way we have to achieve it.”

  Sophia hesitated before speaking. “In a way, it’s karma,” she said. “I’m taking what Norbert’s given me and throwing it back at him.”

  Jonathan rubbed his forehead. “We’ll see about that,” he said, as his countenance darkened. He looked out to the ocean, lost in thought.

  Jonathan’s mind seemed so far away that Sophia was reluctant to talk to him. But her curiosity got the best of her.

  “So, what’s the plan?” she asked.

  “I have to rethink it.”

  Sophia raised her eyebrows. “I thought you’d put the finishing touches on the plan.”

  “I know, but…” Jonathan’s voice drifted off.

  “But what?”

  “I have to revise it,” said Jonathan.

  He turned to Sophia and feigned a smile. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  Sophia’s annoyance returned at the lack of transparency, and Jonathan saw it.

  He took her hand. “I promise we’ll talk about it tomorrow, Sophia.”

  Sophia kept her hand in his and didn’t say anything. For some reason, his grasp was comforting.

  “Is there anything you want to talk about?” asked Jonathan.

  Sophia could hardly believe her ears. Was he trying to instigate a heart-to-heart? So much had changed. Maybe too much…

  But she had questions. “You didn’t—don’t—like Ilya. Even before—“ she stopped. “Even before…you know. Why is that?”

  Jonathan let out a bitter laugh and looked down. “He reminded me of someone. I read him like a book as soon as I met him.”

  “Who did he remind you of?”

  “A man who hurt someone close to me.”

  “Your wife?” asked Sophia, then regretted her lack of tact.

  Jonathan withdrew his hand. “Who told you about Ingrid?!” he snapped.

  It was clear to Sophia she’d taken a wrong turn. “I’m—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Yasuo told me.”

  Jonathan’s chest heaved rapidly. He turned away. “No, it’s alright,” he said. “You have every right to know.”

  “I shouldn’t have brought it up,” said Sophia.

  “It’s fine. I was just surprised.”

  They sat in an uncomfortable silence that Sophia felt drag on forever. The tide had started to go out, and she wondered if they should just leave.

  “I didn’t protect her when I should have,” said Jonathan. “I’ll never let that happen again.”

  Finally. A welcome—if dark—break to the silence.

  He turned to Sophia. “You remind me of her.”

  The words stunned Sophia like a brick in the face.

  Jonathan continued, “She had a good heart. She was strong. And she was beautiful.”

  Sophia felt her cheeks starting to get hot. She also felt the comparison was shamefully unjust. She wasn’t that strong. And from what Yasuo had said about Ingrid, she’d envisioned a glamorous, skilled woman, someone whose every move held confidence.

  “I don’t know,” mumbled Sophia. “I’m not that strong. She sounds better.”

  Jonathan glanced at Sophia. “She doubted herself, too,” he smiled.

  “But my doubts are justified.”

  “No, they aren’t,” said Jonathan, with vehemence. “You’re perfectly capable of dealing with anything that’s thrown at you. Your doubt is what shoots you in the foot.”

  Sophia gawked at him.

  “I would tell you to get rid of it,” said Jonathan. “But doubt is very rarely something that you simply send on its way. Believe in yourself, and it will go away over time.”

  Sophia opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. “If you say so,” was the only answer she could muster.

  “You’ll see,” grinned Jonathan. “You’ll see, I’m right.”

  He spoke so charmingly that Sophia couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright.”

  They had plenty of space to walk back to the sand now. Jonathan squeezed her hand again. “Should we go?”

  Sophia hesitated. “I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with Ilya—or Saren.”

  “I’ll be right there with you,” smiled Jonathan. “If anyone tries to bother you, I’ll box their ears.”

  His voice, his gaze, his grasp. Everything was comforting.

  Sophia smiled. “Alright, let’s go.”

  24

  Sophia furiously wrapped the purple tape around her hand. Ilya was staring at her from across the room. He hadn’t said anything to her at breakfast. She had bid “good morning” to everyone, and he’d just gaped at her like a sad puppy. It wasn’t like Sophia wanted to talk to him anyway. She had nothing else to say to him.

  Still, it was weird. Even a greeting would have been nice.

  Ilya’s hands were in the pockets of his sweatpants, his shoulders slumped forward in despair. He looked every inch the forlorn lover.

  Sophia scoffed as she examined her hand to see if the tape was tight enough. Why was he standing there like he was the one hurt? He’d hurt her. It wasn’t the other way around.

  She was wired today. All the hurt and disappointment she’d felt yesterday had turned into rage. A punching bag that hung in the corner of the practice room had been tempting her for the past five minutes. But she resisted the urge to pummel it. Considering the current dynamic of the house, she’d probably be paired up with Saren for morning training.

  She wanted to save all her energy for Saren.

  Ilya still wasn’t doing anything except staring. Every moment that his eyes were on Sophia fanned her flaming rage.

  The door to the practice room swung open, and Saren strutted in. “Alright, are we ready?”

  An eager smile was on her freckled face. She was dressed more conservatively today, her running jacket zipped all the way up to her chin.

  She stopped right by Sophia. “How are you?”

  Sophia’s rage was momentarily replaced with surprise. “I’m good. You?”

  “Good,” Saren nodded. “Cute tape, by the way.”

  A compliment? A small one, but still... Sophia sighed. Things must be bad if even Saren pitied her enough to be nice.

  “Where’s Jonathan?” asked Sophia, desperate for his comforting presence.

  Saren walked to the front of the room. “Change of plan,” she said. “I’m running training today. Jonathan has some things to work on. You’ll see him after.”

  Sophia gritted her teeth. “Great,” she muttered under her breath.

  Saren silently noted Sophia’s frustration and cleared her throat. The smile returned to her face. “Ilya,” she said.

  Ilya’s blue eyes reluctantly floated from Sophia to the instructor.

  “How do you feel about fighting Sophia today?” asked Saren.

  A panicked look crossed Ilya’s face. “For sparring?”

  “No, not sparring.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No rules today.”

  Ilya looked baffled. “No rules?”

  Saren turned to Sophia. “No rules,” she said.

  Sophia’s brow furrowed. Did Saren know what she was doing? Sophia’s rage was ever increasing. Every muscle from her head to her toes was tense. It probably wasn’t a good idea…

  “Go at it as hard as you want,” said Saren. “Just don’t kill each other.”

  The auburn-haired woman sat cross-legged on the floor, her face devoid of emotion. “Go on,” she said.

  Sophia shifted her focus to Ilya. He was staring again, this time with the blankest of expressions. She took a step forward, and he didn’t move. His hands were still in his pockets.

  Saren emitted a long sigh. “I don’t want this to take all day,” she said. “Just get on with it.”

  “I can’t,” said Ilya, his eyes still on Sophia.

  “What do you mean you can’t?”

  Ilya held his hands up
as if surrendering.

  Sophia found everything about the man in front of her annoying today. His reluctance to fight her, his mournful expression, his surrendering. Everything about him was making her mad…

  With a yell, she ran forward and kicked him in the stomach.

  He stumbled back, shocked. “Sophia, Sophia, wait.”

  His voice sounded pathetic to her. She hit his face with her palm. Blood began to pour out of his nose.

  Ilya kept stumbling back.

  “You’re going to run out of space if you keep doing that,” said Sophia.

  He tried to side swipe her, but she blocked his arm and kneed him in the stomach. He keeled forward. The expression on his face looked like Sophia had kicked him in the heart, not the stomach.

  She backed away and gave him a minute to recover. He’d just straightened himself back out when Saren spoke.

  “No more breaks,” she said. “Keep going.”

  The careless way she spoke confused Sophia. Why didn’t Saren make Ilya fight? Really fight. She wasn’t even encouraging him.

  Sophia crossed her arms. She shot Ilya a glance filled with contempt. “Well?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “You gonna come at me? Or are you just going to stand there and do nothing?”

  No reply.

  Sophia ran and jumped, her calves swinging over his shoulders. She brought him down with a loud thud, her thighs on the sides of his neck.

  Ilya brought his hands up to the side. Surrendering again. “Go ahead,” he whispered.

  They held each other’s gaze in silence. Sophia shook her head in frustration. By giving up, he was taking away all the pleasure of beating him.

  Ilya looked miserable. His cheeks were flushed, and the blood from his nose had covered his face. His blue eyes peeked out sadly through their red canvas.

  In that moment, Sophia had complete control. Saren had said no rules. She could pummel him…and she kind of wanted to. She pulled her fist back and prepared to strike.

  “I’ll make it up to you. You can beat me up, do whatever. I’ll still care about you.”

  What Ilya said threw her for a loop, and extinguished the fire within her. Her thighs loosened their grip on Ilya’s neck.

  “I swear, Sophia. I’ll do anything it takes.”