37. Aj #2
“He’ll text you, AJ.” She slides off the bed with a laugh. “You’re a Commander’s daughter. He’d be a dumbfuck not to.”
Something twists strangely inside me at the words. Wolff never cared who my father was. He looked at me like I was just…me.
She grabs one of the pill bottles off the bed and waves it casually. “I’m taking these, by the way.”
“Shocking.”
With a grin, she tosses the bottle into her purse before slinging it over her shoulder. Then she leans down and kisses my cheek on her way toward the door.
“Stop being so fucking mopey. Go get your pussy ate. And seriously, consider being one of my stage girls. I’ll even let you carry a whip.”
She laughs as I flip her off.
I hate walking the concrete halls of the Citadel.
The underground Sovereign headquarters beneath Chicago feel colder than I remember. Endless gray corridors lined with security checkpoints, armories, training facilities, medical wings, command centers—every inch of it built for war.
For power.
For men like my father.
But for Servants who have nothing, it’s just a hi-tech kind of prison.
My arms tighten around myself as I walk, keeping my head down while boots echo around me. Men glance up when I pass. Some stare openly.
I feel every single set of eyes.
Even in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, their attention sears into my skin and leaves a mark. I never used to notice it this much before. Now it feels impossible not to.
Two guards near the east wing track me the entire way down the hall. One of them smirks slightly when our eyes accidentally meet.
I look away immediately.
Reaching Dad’s office, I shove the heavy door open without knocking. The scent of leather, whiskey, and old books hits instantly.
And then—
My heart stops.
Wolff.
He stands near my father’s desk, broad shoulders filling out a fitted gray shirt, dark jeans hanging low over black boots. His beard is trimmed shorter than before, his dark hair neater.
The sight of him has me forgetting how to breathe.
“AJ.” My father smiles from behind his desk. “Perfect timing.”
Wolff turns fully toward me, and his green eyes lock onto mine. Everything inside me stumbles.
Five weeks.
Five fucking weeks of silence.
No texts.
No calls.
Nothing.
And somehow one look from him still wrecks me.
I can’t tell if he’s happy to see me. Nothing about his face gives anything away. I force myself to move, sitting stiffly while trying not to stare at Wolff standing across the room, looking hotter than he has any right to look.
“I was just congratulating General Maddox on his promotion.” Dad beams proudly. “Youngest in our section’s history.”
I force myself to look up at him. “Congratulations.”
Wolff’s gaze flicks over me before settling somewhere over my shoulder.
“Thank you.” His voice is cold enough to hurt.
My eyes drop impulsively toward his hand.
No ring.
Of course not. Heat rushes to my face as I curl my own hand into my lap, hiding my finger.
“And AJ,” my father continues, stepping around the desk, “Doctor Reed says you’ve made excellent progress.”
“Uh…yeah. I guess.”
It’s amazing the things you can pretend about yourself when you don’t have the energy to care anymore. But why the hell is he talking about this in front of Wolff?
Dad watches me carefully with that softened expression he’s worn ever since I came home.
“There’s actually another reason I wanted you here today. A new Commander transferred into our section last week. David Holmes.”
I frown. “Okay…”
There’s a brief hesitation before he speaks again.
“He’s your fiancé, AJ.”
I genuinely think I stop hearing for a second. “What?”
“The arrangement has been in progress for months. You and David will marry in the spring.”
The words slam into me so hard, my chair scrapes against the floor as I stand.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Autumn Jane. Watch your tone.”
“You can’t just decide that—”
“Yes, I can.” His expression hardens. “You’re a Commander’s daughter. You’ve always known this was a possibility. David comes from a strong family. Good bloodline. He’s an excellent match.”
I stare at him in complete disbelief…as something begins to click horribly into place. My head turns slowly toward Wolff. Dad follows my gaze.
“Thank you again, General. I knew I could trust you to bring her home safely so I could give her the life she deserves.”
The air leaves my lungs.
Wolff knew.
The realization hits like a gut punch. Wolff gives a single nod and starts toward the door. Like this conversation means absolutely fucking nothing to him. The second the office door closes behind him, something inside me snaps completely.
“AJ—” Dad starts.
I don’t even hear the rest. I shove through the office doors with enough force that they slam against the concrete walls outside.
“You knew?!”
My voice cracks down the corridor. Several guards look over instantly. Wolff stops near the end of the hall and turns toward me slowly. I storm toward him through the blur of tears burning my vision.
“You fucking knew he arranged my marriage?”
His face doesn’t change.
“Answer me!”
“Yes.”
I stare up at him, shaking, my heart pounding. I can barely breathe.
All I can see is the last night on the ship. His hands on me. His mouth against mine. The way he held me through the storm. The way he looked at me like I mattered.
But he knew the entire fucking time.
“Why? How could you not tell me? How could you—”
“I was following orders.” His voice is cold, almost dismissive.
Rage explodes through my veins. “I don’t give a fuck about orders. I thought you—” I stop myself just before the words come out. Before I humiliate myself any more. “What about fucking me? Was that following orders, too?”
“It didn’t mean anything.”
“You’re lying. You wouldn’t have touched me like that if—”
“You’re a Servant. Fucking is all you’re good for.”
Fucking is all you’re good for.
The sentence loops through my skull over and over and over again until I feel nauseous. Every vulnerable moment. Every kiss. Every touch. Everything I begged him for…
Heat crawls up my throat, humiliation so intense it feels physical. I feel the guards staring from farther down the hall, pretending not to listen while hearing every fucking word.
I want to scream at him.
Hit him.
Cry.
I’m standing here looking like a fucking idiot who built a fantasy out of scraps. I take a step backward as my hand reaches for the ring on my finger. The stupid piece of metal I couldn’t throw away because some pathetic part of me thought it meant something.
I turn, slip off the ring, and let it fall into a trash bin as I walk away. Then I let out this awful little laugh under my breath. Because how can I truly be this fucking stupid?