Page 20 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

Sophie

Ifocus on the road, trying very hard not to think about what’s waiting for me.

It doesn’t work. By the time Sentinel’s headquarters comes into view, I’m gripping the wheel so hard my hands have started to hurt.

It’s been two weeks since the gala. Two weeks since I kissed the wrong alpha and let the real target slip through my fingers. Since then, nothing but radio silence from Griffin, being pulled from every assignment, and sitting alone in my apartment with my own thoughts.

I hate it. I hate every second of it.

I knew the rules. I’ve known them for a decade. Never go to the target’s room. Always maintain control of the environment. Never put yourself in a position where you can’t be extracted. In all the time I’ve worked for Sentinel, I’ve never fucked up like this. I’ve dismantled trafficking rings and pulled omegas out of situations most people wouldn’t survive. I’ve been stabbed, shot at, drugged, but I always, always completed the mission.

Until now.

At least they still got Zimmer. Griffin had to scramble, assign a different agent, set up an entirely new operation, but they got him. He’s in Sentinel’s basement now, where he belongs. And thank God they did, because I don’t know how I would have lived with myself otherwise.

I finally drag myself out of the car and head inside. The lobby is quiet at this hour. I nod to the receptionist, swipe into the restricted elevator, and descend two levels to the part of Sentinel that officially doesn’t exist. The interrogation rooms are down here, the surveillance hub, the armory.

The elevator doors open onto a corridor of reinforced steel and muted lighting. I walk past the tech center, banks of computers where Declan’s team monitors everything from traffic cameras to satellite feeds, and turn left toward the conference rooms.

They’re already waiting for me.

Griffin stands at the head of the long table, arms crossed, his dark eyes finding me the moment I walk through the door. Nolan leans against the wall near the door, his permanent frown somehow even deeper than usual. Declan sits at the table, chin resting on his hands, watching me with something that might be sympathy if I squint.

“Sophie.” Griffin’s voice is clipped.

I fold my arms across my chest, mirroring his stance.

I can practically feel their disappointment from across the room. Somehow, I’d rather be facing down armed traffickers than this.

“You should’ve known better, Soph.” Declan’s voice is gentler than Griffin’s, which somehow makes it worse.

I hold up a hand before anyone else can speak.

“Look, before you start, let me go first.” I take a breath, forcing myself to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for fucking up. I’m sorry for wasting Sentinel’s resources and everyone’s time. I feel...” The words stick in my throat. Apologies have never come easily to me. “I really, truly feel awful about it. And I promise it won’t happen again.”

Griffin’s expression doesn’t change. “Sophie, this isn’t about wasting resources.”

I blink. “Then why are you angry?”

“You knew the rules,” Nolan says from his position by the door, his voice low and rough. “Never go into someone else’s room. Why did you do it?”

The question hangs in the air. I feel my cheeks heat with shame and frustration, and with the memory of that moonlit terrace and the way Finn looked at me.

“I wanted to get him.” The excuse is thin and everyone in the room knows it. “After what he did to Cindy, I couldn’t let him get away. And when he suggested his room instead of mine, I thought if I insisted, he’d get suspicious. I thought I could handle it.”

“Bullshit.” Griffin’s voice cracks like a whip. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You walked into an unknown environment with no backup and no way to be pulled out if it went wrong. You don’t know what could have happened to you.”

For a moment, his mask slips. Underneath the cold authority, there’s fear. Genuine fear.

They’re not angry because I failed the mission, but because I could have gotten myself killed.

Which only pisses me off more.

“I can take care of myself,” I scoff. “I’ve been doing it for ten years. I realized my mistake quickly and I left. No harm done. He was just some random guy at a gala, Griff. Nothing happened.”

Nothing happened. Just a kiss that meant nothing, with a man who meant nothing, and I really, really need to stop thinking about it.

“Nothing happened this time.” Griffin uncrosses his arms. “But something could have. And you know it.”