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—𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄—

̶S̶e̶r̶a̶p̶h̶i̶n̶a̶

𝑺𝒐𝒇𝒊𝒂 ☄

        "𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑? 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆?" My mother’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and unforgiving. She’s furious—practically vibrating with rage. And I get it, I do, but right now, all I can think about is how much I fucking hate this place, this life, and most of all, that bitch Lena Mishkin.

"Calme-toi, maman," I mutter, which only makes her angrier. It’s like throwing gasoline on a fire.

"Ne me dis pas de me calmer, Sofia!" She’s switched to French, which she only does when she’s really pissed off. "You could’ve gotten yourself killed! And for what? Because you hate her? Because she’s rich? Because she’s the daughter of a Supreme Commander?"

Because she treated me like shit.

I shrug, trying to look like I don’t care. But the truth is, I do care. I’m just too angry to admit it. "Why does it matter? It’s not like I was doing anything important. They had me cleaning floors and serving tea like some kind of servant. Do you know how humiliating that was?"

"You were gathering intel," she snaps. "Important intel! And now you’ve jeopardized everything. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

Of course I know. I fucked up—really really fucked up. But I’m not about to let her see me sweat. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at her. "Maybe if everyone here at Nyx didn’t treat me like some kind of useless kid, I wouldn’t have had to take matters into my own hands. I mean why does everyone have like super cool missions with a lot of action and I'm THE ONLY ONE who has the shittiest ones."

Her eyes narrow, and I can tell she’s about to unleash another round of fury, but before she can, the door to the room swings open, and in walks Elena, the leader of this shitty place and Bella’s mother. She’s the only person in this place who scares my mother, and I think that’s why she’s here. To make sure I don’t get off too easy.

"Sofía," Elena says, her voice calm but deadly serious. "What you did was reckless. Lena Mishkin is dangerous, and you know that."

"I know exactly how dangerous she is," I snap back. "That’s why I tried to get rid of her."

Honestly, I still think I was about to do humanity a great favor.

There's three knocks on the door. Bella. The door opens slightly after and her figure appears, her eyes drifting between us. "Is this a bad moment?"

"Yes."

"No."

We say in unison.

She quickly looks at her mother who nods at her. She enters the room like if she's a ghost and she is thrilled to leave quickly. She's holding some documents that she hands to her mother. "Barbara sent me to give you this, she said it's important."

Barbara...

Elena sighs and thanks her. "Yes, it's good that she got it this fast."

I'm curious now, "What's that?"

Bella smiles and leans against the wall, "I don't really know," she says, "but your name and new name were on them."

My eyes widen, "What? What are you talking about?" I look at my mother, then at Elena, then at my mother again. "What is she talking about?"

Elena seems unamused, but my mother looks like she's holding herself to not kill me. "Stop acting like your actions don't have repercussions, everyone knows about how you tried to kill a Supreme Commander's daughter!" Her face is too red for her health.

Bella finally speaks again, a grin on her face. "I mean, it was kind of funny, though. Poisoning her? Where were you planning to get the poison from?"

A smile forms in my face as I remember, "It was easy actually. In the slum there was a guy who used to sell the weirdest kinds of needles, the kind that don't leave traces because they are so contaminated that no one would suspect anything if they did an analysis."

"That's interesting, do you know what they are called?"

My mother shoots her a look that could kill, and Elena sighs. "Don’t encourage her, Arabella. This isn’t a joke."

"Right," Bella says, but she’s still smirking. I appreciate the support, even if it’s not exactly helping my case.

"Barbara was right to bring you in," Elena continues, her tone softening a bit. "You’ve put yourself and this entire rebellion at risk. We can’t afford mistakes like this."

Barbara. That old hag. She’s the one who caught me, of course. She's a sentinel, the one who receives our messages about how the missions are going. Weeks of complaining about how bored I was with my mission, and then suddenly going quiet? That’s what tipped her off. I should’ve known better, should’ve played it smarter. But I was so fucking tired of feeling useless. So fucking tired of that Russian mean girl.

"I’m sorry," I mumble, more because I know it’s expected than because I actually feel it. "I didn’t think—"

"That much is clear," my mother interrupts, her voice like ice. "But it’s too late for apologies. You’ve been reassigned."

"Reassigned?" I echo, suddenly feeling a knot of dread forming in my stomach. "To what?"

"To the Ibrahim household," Elena says, and there’s no mistaking the finality in her voice. "You’ll be working as their maid."

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. "Are you fucking kidding me? A maid? After everything I’ve done—"

"After everything you’ve done, you’re lucky you’re not being thrown to the Reestablishment as a traitor,” my mother snaps. "This is your punishment, Sofía. And you will do it, or so help me—"

I cut her. "No I'm not!" I stare at them, disbelief flooding my system as the words sink in. "You're sending me to be a maid? In Asia? What type of mother does that?"

"If she's not going I will!" I'm startled for a brief moment at the sudden voice that appears in the conversation. Ah, right. Nic—my younger brother—is in the room too.

I hear my mother sigh, "Nicolas we already talked about this, you're too young for missions."

Nic looks like she just told him he doesn't know how to read, "But Bella was my age when she started going to missions!" He points at her.

Bella's face tells enough, "Yeah...I don't recommend that."

I look at him, "You're a child, use it! Soon you'll be in missions where you'll have to serve tea to those who kill out people everyday."

He doesn't look that excited anymore.

"Leave your brother alone," my mother says, "and can you all stop changing the conversation? This is about Sofía, and yes, you're going."

"But I don't want to!" I shout back.

"Well it is not like you have a choice." Elena confirms, her voice cold and unyielding. "You felt like a maid at the Mishkin household? Well, now you’ll know exactly how it is to truly be one."

My stomach twists in anger, but I keep my face as still as possible. "And where exactly in Asia am I supposed to go?"

"The current Ibrahim household. Sector 65," Elena responds. "They moved sectors again and we need to know why."

I blink, my brain struggling to connect the dots. Sector 65? Where the hell is that?

My mother gives me a hard look, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You really haven’t been paying attention in our meetings, have you?"

I scowl, but don’t answer. It’s true—I’ve tuned out most of the Reestablishment crap, because it’s always the same bullshit over and over. But I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of knowing that. I glance at Bella, who’s standing quietly in the background, but I know she isn't with me on this one. Details don't escape her. She’s always been the dutiful daughter, always listening, always learning. Me? Not so much.

"Sector 65 is the old Turkey. The Supreme Commander and his family are normally moving sectors continuously, but the particularity about this one is that we don't know their motivations. We don't know why Turkey specifically, but we suspect it's to be closer to Europe; making the traveling easier." Bella explains. But all I can do is blink at her. Where the hell was my mind when this conversation was being held?

"And what am I supposed to do there? How am I supposed to survive? I don’t even speak Arabic or Turkish!" I throw my hands up in exasperation.

"It’s not up for discussion, Sofía," My mother snaps, her tone final. "You’ll go, you’ll do your job, and you’ll do it without drawing any more attention to yourself. Do you understand?"

"No," I mutter under my breath, but loud enough for them to hear. I hear them sigh and mutter some things I rather not understand. But they ignore me, already moving on to whatever else they have to deal with. I’m just a problem they’ve solved, nothing more.

Fury boils in my veins as I storm out of the room. My feet pound against the cold stone floors of the underground base, echoing my anger as I make my way to my room. This is bullshit. All of it.

"Sofía, wait!" Bella’s voice calls after me, and I can hear Trix’s laugh, she mutters something and then I hear her footsteps not far behind.

I don’t slow down, though. I can’t. I’m too mad, too upset, too... everything. I finally reach my room and slam the door open, the sound reverberating through the small space. Bella and Trix slip in before I can shut them out.

"I can’t believe this," I say, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "A fucking maid. They’re sending me to Asia to work as a maid. This is punishment. They’re punishing me!"

"Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point," Trix says, her voice sarcastic but not unkind. "You did try to poison the Supreme Commander’s daughter."

I glare at her, and she raises her hands in mock surrender. "I’m just saying, Sofía. Maybe this is the universe telling you to chill the hell out."

"Or maybe it’s the universe being a total asshole," I mutter, kicking my bed in frustration.

Bella sighs, her calm presence doing little to ease the storm brewing inside me. "Look, Sofía, I know this sucks, but you have to think about the bigger picture. The Reestablishment is doing some shady stuff in Europe and Asia, and we need to know what’s going on. This might be our best chance to get close to them."

"Great," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "So now I’m a fucking sacrificial lamb?"

Before Bella can respond, there’s a knock on the door, and it swings open to reveal Barbara, her expression as stern as always. "Your plane is ready, Aubry."

Already? They want to get rid of me this bad?

My temper flares up again, and I take a step toward her, but Bella grabs my arm, holding me back. "I’ll be there in a minute," I say through gritted teeth, forcing a fake smile.

Barbara gives me a suspicious look, but she doesn’t push it. She simply nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. As soon as she’s gone, I turn back to Bella, my resolve crumbling.

"Please, Bella," I say, my voice breaking as tears well up in my eyes. I fall to my knees, hugging her around the waist like a child. "Please, try to change their minds. Or at least... trade missions with me. I can’t do this. I just... I can’t."

Trix scoffs, "You're down to be a soldier for a mummy? That man is older than the entire continent of America."

"And somehow he's still in charge of a whole sector..." Bella wonders confused, her voice a soft murmur.

I look at both of them confused.

The door opens again, Hazel appears, looks at us with a smile. "I'm not invited to the sleepover?" Her eyes fall on me and her smile disappears, "What happened? Why are you crying?"

"They're sending her to clean bathrooms in Asia for trying to kill a Supreme Commander's daughter." Trix answers for me.

Hazel puts her lips in a straight line, "Yikes."

"Please Bella, pretty please!" I keep begging.

Bella’s eyes soften, and she brushes a hand through my hair, her voice gentle. "Sofía, you know I would if I could. But this is important. We need you to do this."

"I don’t care about the fucking mission!" I shout, but it comes out more like a sob. "I’m not cut out for this! I’m going to mess everything up again!"

"You’ll be fine," Trix says, trying to sound reassuring, but it doesn’t do much to comfort me. "You’re tougher than you think."

I pull away from Bella, wiping at my eyes angrily. This is humiliating. I’m not supposed to cry, not in front of them, not in front of anyone. I get to my feet, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "I'm going to end up dead."

The three of them give me small, sad smiles, and I know they’re trying to be supportive, but it just feels like pity. I hate pity.

"Good luck," Bella says softly, and Trix gives me a playful salute.

"Don’t get yourself killed out there, okay?" Hazel says. Though right now she's a traitor. She's the only sentinel that I like and she couldn't even cover me? Though I think that specific day was her day off...

I manage a weak smile, but I don’t say anything. I can’t. My throat feels tight, like I’m being strangled by my own emotions.

After collecting my things I walk out of the room and make my way through the underground base, heading toward the exit. Every step feels like I’m walking toward my own execution. As I pass by a group of people, I hear a few snickers and teasing comments about my mission.

"Good luck cleaning toilets, Sofía!" one of them calls out, and my fists clench at my sides. I hold back the string of cuss words on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t help but fire back with a glare and a sharp, "I’ll remember that when you’re scrubbing shit out of your pants."

The smile wipes off their faces, and I feel a small sense of satisfaction, but it’s fleeting. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m being shipped off to some godforsaken place to serve people who probably won’t even notice if I drop dead in front of them.

I finally reach the plane, a small, unmarked aircraft that looks more like a metal coffin than anything else. The pilot gives me a bored look as I climb aboard, and I drop into one of the uncomfortable seats, exhaustion pulling at me. I barely manage to close my eyes before sleep takes over, my mind too overwhelmed to resist.

When I wake up, the plane has landed, and the pilot is nudging me awake. "We’re here," he says flatly, like he couldn’t care less.

I step off the plane and into the freezing air, squinting as I look around. The area is bleak, an industrial wasteland with tall fences and heavily armed guards patrolling the perimeter. This is where workers—civilians, slaves, whatever you want to call them—get transferred from one sector to another. Most of them are here for work, others for reasons they probably don’t even know.

I’m no different. Except I’m a spy with a fake identity, dressed in ragged clothes that make me look like I’ve been dragged through the mud and back. My new name is Seraphina Delacour, a shitty reminder of how badly I fucked up. The name feels foreign on my tongue, just like the identity card they’ve given me—332-X4842L. Sector 332 of America, back in Canada, where everything is cold and miserable, just like me.

As I approach the checkpoint, my heart pounds in my chest. The soldiers guarding the border give me a once-over, their eyes lingering on my tattered clothes before one of them snatches the ID card from my hand. I hold my breath, praying they don’t notice anything off.

“Seraphina Delacour, huh?” one of the soldiers says, flipping the card over. He looks at me with a smirk that makes my skin crawl. “Welcome to Europe.”

I force a smile, but inside, I’m seething. Europe, my ass. This place is a fucking nightmare. As I move past the checkpoint, I find myself staring at the massive factories spewing toxic smoke into the sky, polluting the air so badly it makes my throat burn just breathing it in. And in the distance, I see people—workers, prisoners, whatever they are—laboring in the restricted areas. The Reestablishment’s punishment for those who step out of line. Dangerous, toxic zones, more poisonous than Chernobyl. The wars have left the world in ruins, and now this is all that’s left. Crumbling, broken pieces of what once was.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice the person behind me until they shove me forward, nearly knocking me off my feet. "Move it," a gruff voice orders, and I stumble, trying to regain my balance.

Everyone here looks like they’re about to die—if they’re not already walking dead. Their faces are hollow, their eyes devoid of life, their bodies bent and broken from years of hard labor. The only ones who seem alive are the soldiers, and even they look more like predators than people. To fit in, I had to make myself look bad—dirty up my face, wear ragged clothes, and make sure I looked every bit the part of someone who had fallen from grace. It’s a harsh reality check, and every step I take towards the waiting van feels like a step deeper into hell.

The van’s doors swing open with a creak, and I’m shoved inside along with a handful of other women. They are of all ages, of all types of suffering. The seats are hard and filthy, and the smell—oh God, the smell—is enough to make me gag. We sit in silence, each of us lost in our own misery, our faces reflecting a mix of fear and resignation.

The drive is interminable, and I can’t bring myself to close my eyes. Every jolt and bump of the van only heightens my anxiety. I’ve never been on a mission like this before, and the more I think about it, the more terrified I become. It’s not just about the Reestablishment anymore; it’s about surviving this new hell they’ve thrown me into.

The van finally comes to a stop, and we’re unceremoniously herded out. A soldier barks orders at us, his tone dismissive and cruel. As we walk, I try to keep my head down, to blend in with the other women, but it’s impossible to ignore the jeering comments and laughter from the soldiers. Their voices cut through the chill of the air like knives, and every insult feels like a personal attack.

I’m nearly at the end of my patience when I accidentally bump into someone—a tall man in black clothes with black hair and a thick black beard. He looks at me with a mix of irritation and curiosity.

He speaks quickly in Turkish, but I don’t understand a word. He repeats the question in English, his tone more commanding. “Are you Seraphina Delacour?”

“Yes,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, still distracted by the soldiers’ cruel remarks.

The man’s face hardens, and he shouts something in Turkish. The soldiers stop their taunting and step aside, parting to let us through. The man introduces himself as Karim, a worker for the Ibrahim family. He’s come to