42. Aj
My ringtone slices through my skull, dragging me out of a heavy chemical fog. I blink awake on a sticky leather couch, the room spinning, my mouth tasting like ash, cum, and cheap vodka.
It takes me a moment to realize where I am.
The VIP lounge at Blackout, a Sovereign nightclub.
Lights still pulse faintly. The air is thick with the smell of sex, sweat, weed, and spilled alcohol.
Naked Sovereigns and Sluts are sprawled everywhere—on couches, on the floor, tangled together in a mess of limbs and dried fluids.
Someone is still lazily fucking a girl in the corner.
My body aches in that deep, used-up way I’ve become too familiar with. Throat raw. Jaw sore. Ass throbbing.
“Turn your fucking phone off,” a Sovereign grumbles beside me.
He’s sprawled naked on the same couch, one arm thrown over his eyes. His cock is still half-hard against his thigh.
My phone rings again.
I snatch it off the floor. Dad.
Fuck.
I answer with a scratchy voice. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Autumn Jane.” His tone is ice cold. “Where the hell are you?”
I sit up slowly, grimacing at the soreness between my legs and the thick, unmistakable pressure lodged in my ass.
Oh god.
I’m talking to my father with a fucking butt plug in my ass—one I don’t even remember someone shoving in there.
“I’m…I’m on my way. Sorry, I overslept.”
His hand slides up my bare thigh, fingers brushing the base of the plug.
“You were supposed to be at Regent thirty minutes ago. If you—”
“I’m coming.” I hang up.
Shit.
“Leaving already?” he asks as I try to stand, but he grabs my hip and yanks me down onto my stomach.
Before I can protest, he spreads my ass cheeks with rough hands and slowly pulls out the plug. I bite down hard on my lip, fighting the filthy wet sound it makes as it leaves my body. Warmth immediately leaks out of me, dripping down my thighs and onto the couch.
“You look so fucking good with your ass plugged full of my load.” He slaps my ass hard. “Should’ve left it in longer. Let it keep all that cum inside you while you go see your Daddy.”
I push off the couch on shaky legs, grabbing the closest piece of clothing—someone’s oversized shirt—and pulling it over my head. My skin feels disgusting. Flaky with dried cum from who knows how many people. But some sick, ruined part of me doesn’t even care anymore.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m leaving my house showered, makeup layered on, and a tight black dress covering the bruises I know are forming under my clothes.
The driver Dad sent keeps glancing at me in the rear-view mirror while we inch our way through downtown traffic. I pull my phone from my purse and scroll through my texts, ignoring reminder after reminder from assistants, doctors, stylists, therapists.
Until I reach Wolff’s name.
The last messages I sent him stare back at me, unanswered. A hollow ache opens behind my ribs. Clenching my fist around the phone, I fight the stupid urge to text him again. But then I remember what he said to me—about my body, about what I’m good for.
So I delete his number.
For the second time.
I hate that I still have it memorized. I can’t remember what I had for breakfast most days, but his number is burned into my brain like a brand I can’t scrape out.
The car slows outside the restaurant as I shove my phone back into my purse and smooth trembling hands down the front of my dress.
Get your shit together, AJ.
The second I walk inside, my stomach sinks, and I almost turn around and leave.
The restaurant is packed with high-ranking Sovereigns, their wives, and families. Voices and laughter echo off the marble floors. Everyone looks polished, perfect, and fake as fuck.
I spot Gage sitting at a table near the windows overlooking the lake. Dad and David are here somewhere too, but I don’t bother searching for them.
Gage raises his glass the second he sees me, eyes narrowing. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks, asshole.”
I pour myself a full glass of champagne the second I sit down, drinking half of it before setting the glass back on the table.
“So, Dad’s pissed?”
Gage snorts. “Furious.”
Rubbing my fingers against my temple, I try to push away the throbbing behind my eyes.
“He can get over it.” I say dryly.
“AJ—”
“Don’t.” I pour another glass. “I don’t want to fucking hear it, okay? I’m here. That’s all that matters.”
“No. It’s not.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Here we go.”
“You have to stop this shit.” His voice sharpens. “You’re drunk half the time. High, the other half. You’re partying every night. You’re hooking up with random—”
“I’m acting exactly like every other Sovereign in this fucking restaurant?”
His jaw tightens. “It’s different, and you know it.”
“There it is.” I point at him with my champagne glass. “That bullshit right there.”
“AJ—”
“No.” I lean forward, eyes narrowed on his.
“You don’t get to lecture me about this.
The Sovereign spent my entire life encouraging this shit.
They throw parties every weekend. Fill clubs with drugs and alcohol and Sluts.
Half the men sitting in this restaurant spent their twenties coked out of their minds, fucking anything that moved. ”
“That’s not—”
“But suddenly I’m the problem? I’m doing exactly what they’ve always wanted me to do. Be pretty. Be fun. Drink. Smile. Spread my legs. Keep the Sovereign entertained.” I drain the rest of my champagne. “I’m doing my job perfectly.”
Gage’s hands curl into fists on the table. “Jesus Christ, AJ. Listen to yourself.”
He doesn’t sound like my brother anymore. He sounds like Dad and every Commander in this goddamn building.
“You are engaged to a goddamn Commander. People are watching every move you make. Your behavior is not just reflecting on you. It reflects on him.”
“Thanks for the reminder. I almost forgot for a second. Wouldn’t want to ruin the Commander’s shiny fucking reputation.” I’m being sarcastic, but the nausea swirling in my stomach says otherwise. I hate the way my body reacts every time someone mentions David. Or the wedding.
“Marrying David is a good thing.”
I slam my glass down and let out a sharp laugh. “Really? That’s the bullshit you’re selling me now? You think marrying some Sovereign Prince Charming is my happy ending?”
“It’s better than—”
“Better than what?” My temples pound with every heartbeat, the alcohol from last night curdling in my stomach. I’ve already hit my quota for bullshit this morning. “Please, Gage. Enlighten me.”
“You’re being a bitch.”
“Wow.” A humorless laugh escapes me as I shove my chair back. “Did I ruin your perfect Commander brunch? Get fucked, Gage.” I’m on my feet in the next second, grabbing my purse.
He catches my wrist. “Don’t walk away from me like a goddamn child.”
I yank my arm free.
“What seems to be the problem?” David’s smooth voice cuts through the air behind me. My back stiffens as he steps to my side, close enough that his cologne wraps around my senses.
He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and a perfectly tailored suit. Every inch the image of the ideal Sovereign Commander.
I hate him on sight.
“Nothing,” I mutter, avoiding his eyes.
“Gage.”
My brother immediately straightens.
“Why don’t you go check in with your father.”
Gage hesitates, his eyes flicking between me and David. “Fine.”
Traitor.
David pulls out the chair across from me. “Would you sit with me for a minute?”
I hate that he asks in a way that implies I have a choice. I slowly lower myself back into the chair. A waitress appears beside the table instantly. David doesn’t even look at the menu.
“Bring her something with protein.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten.”
I glare at him. “How do you know that?”
He just smiles.
Fuck off.
We’ve barely spoken outside of Sovereign events and wedding meetings. A handful of dinners with a few forced conversations. Hours of my life spent listening to people discuss centerpieces and guest lists while David sat beside me, a complete stranger.
The waitress scurries away while silence stretches between us. I reach for my champagne again, but David leans forward slightly.
“Maybe something without alcohol this time.”
My fingers curl tighter around the stem of the glass as he rests his forearms on the table.
“You’ve had a difficult few weeks.”
I immediately hate where this conversation is going. “I’m fine.”
“Autumn.”
My shoulders tense at my name. It’s always Autumn.
“You’re not fine.”
“How insightful.”
His jaw tics. “I don’t need you to like me. You don’t even need to trust me right now. But we will get married. And when we do, you will behave accordingly.”
The empty chairs across from us scrape softly against the marble floor.
The interruption feels like a lifeline, even if it’s from the last people I want to see. At least the conversation about my “behavior” and our inevitable marriage has been halted. For now.
I glance up as Commander Harrington slides into it, wearing a crisp navy suit, silver cufflinks, every inch the polished politician. Devin settles into the chair beside him a second later, smoothing the pale-blue skirt of her dress beneath her legs.
“Commander.” David inclines his head in greeting.
“Dinner ran late last night,” Harrington says. “Thought we’d join you.”
Devin smiles. “Morning, AJ.”
I force a smile back.
She looks…perfect. Honey-blonde hair tucked neatly behind one ear. Diamond studs catching the light. Not a wrinkle in her dress. Not a single strand of hair out of place.
Seeing her sours my already shitty mood. She hasn’t been anything but kind to me. Which somehow makes me resent her even more.
I used to think I was a better person than this. Someone who could be happy for people. Someone who didn’t look at another woman and feel jealous. Now I can’t even fake enthusiasm. Can’t even pretend to be decent. I just sit here, quietly rotting from the inside out.
Maybe trauma really does change you. Maybe it takes pieces you don’t notice until they’re gone.
The waitress returns with a plate of eggs, and David leans close to me. “Try to eat something.”
Fuck him. And the eggs.
I don’t eat. I barely listen to everyone talking. I just keep staring at the champagne flute in front of me. And the voice inside my head that keeps whispering how much easier it would be if I just stopped all the fucking pretending and finally drowned myself in it.
“Did you see these pictures of you?” Sienna exhales a thick cloud of smoke as she scrolls through her phone.
I lean over her shoulder. The photo is blurry but unmistakable—me in a nightclub bathroom, on my knees, cum splattered across my tits and dripping down my chin. Rolling my eyes, I reach for the joint in her hand.
“I don’t remember that night.” I take a long, slow hit, letting the smoke burn my lungs. “But I look like I’m having fun.”
My phone buzzes again on the counter. I don’t even glance at it. It’s never anything I want to see.
“What does David think about his future wife being covered in random cum?”
“Don’t know. Don’t fucking care.”
I hope he fucking hates it. Maybe he’ll call the whole thing off. Realize what an embarrassment his future wife is.
“Maybe he’s secretly a cuck,” she says through a laugh. “But I can’t imagine a Commander letting someone else nut on his fiancée. They’re usually not the sharing type.”
“He knew what I was when the marriage was arranged.”
“Exactly. Was.” She points the joint at me. “The second the engagement was announced, you know every Sovereign was supposed to back the fuck off.”
I shrug, passing the joint back to her. “Looks like they missed the memo.”
They didn’t. I just lie. Tell them anything to get what I need. I corner them before they can talk themselves out of it. Tell them David doesn’t mind. Tell them whatever I have to. If they still hesitate…I beg. Because if someone’s hands are on me, they can’t be inside my head.
The doorbell rings.
“Yay, pizza!” Sienna jumps up and disappears down the hall.
I lean back on the couch and take another deep hit. The haze settles over me, dulling everything just enough. The joint burns slowly between my fingers as I stare at the ceiling.
“Uhh, AJ.” Sienna’s voice floats in from down the hall.
“What?”
“Delivery for you.”
“I didn’t order anything.” With a groan, I push off the couch and stumble slightly as I head toward the front door. A delivery guy stands on the steps, a large white van parked in my driveway.
“AJ Weston?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” I lean against the doorframe.
He fumbles with his tablet. “Special delivery for you, miss. Needs a signature.”
Weird.
I scribble my signature onto the screen while another guy climbs out of the van and heads toward the back doors. The second they swing open, a soft whining fills the air.
“Oh my god!” Sienna squeals. “Is that a puppy?”
My eyes widen as the delivery driver pulls out a crate. Inside is a tan and black puppy with oversized paws and ears far too big for his head.
“Aww, he’s sooo cute!” Sienna grabs the crate and carries it inside while the puppy scrambles to the front, sniffing frantically through the wire door.
Eyes wide, I stare down at him, something painful twisting in my chest.
“Who is this from?” I ask as my heart races.
“Don’t know. Didn’t give us a name.”
He hands me a thick folder while bags of supplies are unloaded behind him.
The puppy wiggles free the second Sienna unlatches the crate. His oversized paws slide across the hardwood as he barrels straight into my legs.
Sienna immediately drops onto the floor. “He’s so cute. Look at his ears!”
The puppy sneezes and promptly trips over his own feet. I laugh and crouch beside him and flip through the folder:
German Shepherd mix.
Almost four months old.
Vaccinations complete.
Microchipped.
Adopted from a shelter outside Chicago.
Tucked inside are a few receipts. I scan the items listed: Large kennel, leash, food, treats, veterinary package. Then my eyes catch on the final one: Tactical Training Package—Paid in Full.
My breath catches. I know exactly one person insane enough to buy a puppy tactical training. I sit back on my heels as the puppy climbs into my lap, licking enthusiastically at my chin. The little puppy I wanted so badly to bring home from Russia flashes through my mind.
Sienna settles beside me. “You’re keeping him, right? Tell me you’re keeping him.”
I run my fingers through the puppy’s thick fur while he attacks my hand with clumsy little puppy teeth.
“Of course you’re keeping him.” She grins. “You’ve always wanted a dog.”
I swallow hard and nod. “Yeah.”
The puppy yips and wiggles harder in my lap. I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “Jackal.”
“What?”
I look down at him. “His name is Jackal.”
Sienna laughs and reaches over to ruffle his ears. “Jackal, it is.”
For the first time in a very long time, I feel okay.