Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jackson
I’ve imagined this moment for years—the moment I could finally call Ava my wife. Actually, three years, two days, and twenty-two hours. If I were counting, and I’m not.
But in every daydream, every twisted version I played in my head, it never looked like this. Not even close. Forcing her to marry me, tricking her into it, never factored in.
Ava stares up at me blankly, those green eyes wide, confused. I can see the wheels in her head turning, like she’s trying to replay what I just said, convinced she must have heard me wrong.
“Did you—” She glances around the room, searching for what, I don’t know, then settles her gaze back on me, a little dazed from the effects of the drug.
“Did you just say ‘wife’? We didn’t even say vows!
” She shakes her head. “No, this is some weird society thing.” Her voice rises, high-pitched and frantic.
“Tell me that’s some fucking weird society thing! ”
“As much as I’d love to explain, we still need to finish the ceremony.”
I flick my chin toward Mason and Austin, who both step behind her, right on cue. We’d planned it that way. Once the deed was done and the marriage license signed, they’d get her upstairs while the rest of us closed out the ceremony.
Mason and Austin drag her across the room and out the door, kicking and screaming with what little strength she has left. It’s not much, but she makes them work for it.
A heavy feeling settles in my chest, but I push it away. Now is not the time for guilt or sentiment. I did what needed to be done, and even if Ava never knows why, at least she’s safe. That’s all that matters.
That’s all that’s ever fucking mattered.
After the ceremony ends, everyone rips off their masks and robes and heads down to Rush Beach, where the more junior members are already partying.
In the study, I strip off my robe and light up one of Christian’s blunts, then drop into one of the leather chairs. Lucas settles into the chair across from me, Wyn perched on the armrest, leaning into him.
“You’re a married man now,” she says. “How does it feel?”
Her tone is whimsical, hopeful. She’s not a senior member, so she wasn’t in the ceremony and wasn’t witness to the brutality of it.
Tilting my head back against the tufted backrest, I take a pull from the blunt, then push out a breath, watching the puff of gray smoke curl into the air before drifting into nothingness.
“Feels fantastic,” I say sarcastically. “My wife despises me, so we’re off to a great start. Wedded bliss.”
“Give her time. She’ll come around, eventually.” Lucas rubs Wyn’s thigh and flashes her a wide grin. “Right, baby?”
Wyn rolls her eyes and shoves Lucas’ shoulder. “You guys are assholes. Heaven forbid you seduce a girl like a normal guy. With the Sacred Sons, it’s always threats and coercion.”
“Oh, come on. You like the coercion,” he growls, hooking her waist and pulling her off the armrest, onto his lap. She squeals and pushes against his chest with a laugh.
For fuck’s sake.
I tilt my head back again so I don’t have to look at them, and I take another pull from the blunt. But it does nothing to calm my nerves. It doesn’t even make a dent. My leg is bouncing, fingers twitching, mind chewing itself to pieces.
I’m still back in that ritual room. With her.
With Ava.
And fuck if I know what spell she put me under, but I can’t shake the way she felt—tight, warm, gasping beneath me like she didn’t know whether to fight me or fucking beg. Every movement, every shiver of her body against mine just reminded me how perfectly we fit together.
But what’s stuck in my mind is that look in her eyes—pure, undiluted hatred mixed with the raw beauty of surrender.
You’re the one in control, I tell myself. Don’t let her get inside your head.
Too fucking late.
Ava Baldwin crawled inside my head and took up residence years ago.
We were both just seventeen when her dad started working for my mom in Missouri, and from the very beginning, she was defiant.
Deference was a foreign concept to her, and the result was someone so shamelessly authentic, it set my adolescent brain on fire—a fire that quickly spread to my cock.
A silver lighter strikes my chest, and I look up to see both Lucas and Wyn staring at me. Lucas lifts his hands like, What the fuck? “Wake up, dude. I’m asking you a question.”
“What?” I bite out. Then, like skipping rocks, I chuck the lighter back at him. It flies past his head, clatters to the floor, then goes skidding across the hardwood.
“What’s the update on the article and all that?” he asks.
I push out a breath and flick my chin at Wyn. “Would you mind going up to check on Ava?”
Wyn straightens with a frown. “Trying to get rid of me? Rude.”
I shrug. Wyn’s cool, but that doesn’t mean I’m cool sharing every detail of my fucking life with her.
“Fine,” she huffs, pushing to her feet. “I guess it’s time to welcome her to the traumatized sisterhood of dating a Sacred Son, anyway.” She leans down to give Lucas a peck on the lips. “Meet me down at the party?”
“Sure,” he says, reaching out to touch her as she walks away.
When the door shuts behind her, Lucas levels me with a look. “Well? What’s going on?”
“The situation is manageable. For now. Having Ava close helps with... complications.”
“Manageable,” Lucas repeats, lifting a brow. “You sure about that? We thought this whole damn thing was dead and buried until it was hauled back into the fucking daylight. Something Sin said yesterday makes me wonder if Shadow and Ash had something to do with leaking the information...”
Yeah, fuck. I can’t say I haven’t been circling around that exact same question.
“My uncle and his team are looking at all the angles,” I answer. “If Shadow and Ash are involved, he’ll find out.”
Lucas leans forward, forearms resting on his thighs. His gaze drills into me. “Does he know all the angles, Jackson?”
I pull in another lungful of smoke, hold it, then release it slowly through my nose. The question hangs in the air between us.
“He knows enough,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
Lucas doesn’t blink. He just keeps staring at me with those steel blue eyes. He knows there’s something I’m not telling him. Something I haven’t told anyone. Well, except for one person.
“What aren’t you telling us about what happened in Missouri?” he presses, exactly like my uncle did.
My jaw clenches. There it is—the one question that hasn’t been asked for three years. There wasn’t any need. When I returned from Missouri, the other Sacred Sons were happy to leave the subject alone. Then the incident was swept away, and there was never a need to bring it up again.
Until now.
I take another hit from the blunt, then pull it away to study the charred tip. “There are some things better left buried. You know that better than anyone.”
“Even if it’s the truth?”
I glance over at him. “The truth is what I say it is.”
“Dude, if it’s something that can help you, you need to tell us what it is,” he says, sitting back. “I know what it’s like to have a prison sentence hanging over your head. It’s fucking hell.”
Nah, he has no idea what hell really is. Hell is seeing the love in your girlfriend’s eyes twist into pure disgust in an instant. I can handle all the legal bullshit, but the hatred in Ava’s eyes that day—that was true hell.
Rolling my tight shoulders, I stand. “Look, man, as much as I’d love to sing Kumbaya and talk about my deepest, darkest secrets, I gotta run.”
Lucas laughs and shakes his head. “Why am I not surprised? Let me guess, an army of digital demons just waiting to get shredded.”
I purse my lips, annoyed that I’m so damn predictable.
But my friends know it by now, when the pressure gets too much, I disappear into a game.
Spray enough pixelated blood, stack enough digital bodies, and it almost scratches the itch.
Almost. Because gunning down avatars is the only legal way I can ease the tension and feed my need for violence.
But the urge to lose myself in pixels and blood will have to wait. There are a few things I need handled first. I find Lindsay in the kitchen.
“Hey,” I say. She spins to face me. “I need you to take care of a couple of things.”
Once she nods and I finish giving instructions, I slip into the living room. The party at Rush Beach is in full swing, leaving only a few stragglers scattered around the space. One guy is glued to the console, a couple more leaning against the walls, watching.
“Get out,” I bark.
He drops the controller without a word and backs off.
I snatch it up and load my game, tension crawling under my skin.
All I can think about is that ritual, about claiming Ava completely and finally making her mine.
I should feel guilty about how it happened, but I don’t.
Maybe that selfishness is what makes me the monster she thinks I am…
I disappear into the game for three, maybe four hours. People drift in and out of the room, but I don’t give them much notice, until Ash steps in front of the TV screen, blocking my view.
“Hello?” he says, annoyed. “Earth to Jackson.”
My thumbs fly over the controller as I try to see around Ash’s bulky frame. I have a Brute in my line of sight. “Dude, take a hint. I’m busy.”
“Well, I thought you’d like to know. I went down to toss some food at Sin, and guess who I found keeping him company?”
He pauses, like he expects me to guess.
“Tell me or don’t tell me,” I say, my eyes never leaving the screen. “I’m not guessing.”
He hesitates, and that’s all it takes to grab my attention. My gaze flicks to his face just as my avatar gets overtaken by a Minion ambush. “Just say it,” I bark.
“It was Ember.”