Page 34

A xe’s been MIA for a week, and Griffen and I have settled into a weirdly comfortable routine. Kane’s my running buddy now, and Griffen’s turned out to be an unexpectedly decent host. Sure, he’s still a Hawthorne, so he’s got his moments, but overall, he’s less of a brooding asshole than Axe. We’ve had a few movie nights, and I even roped him into attending my father’s birthday party in a few weeks.

Today’s just another marathon of rehearsals. I’m standing under the shower, letting the warm water drench me, and I can’t shake the nagging thought of Axe. Where is he? Is he safe? Is he alone? Is he even thinking about me?

No. I cut the thought off before it can get any further. I can’t afford to let myself get tangled up in him. He’s the enemy.

No matter how explosive the sex is, how good his cock feels inside me, how he brings me pleasure no other man has ever given me, how his touch makes my body melt, and how his kisses make my heart race.

My hand trails down my body, and I try to push the images of him out of my mind.

I lean against the tile, closing my eyes, conjuring up the memory of his chiseled abs, the tattoos that decorate his chest, and that thick, hard cock.

My fingers work feverishly, teasing and stroking, and my breaths come out in ragged gasps. I can almost feel his strong hands on my hips, his fingers digging in, and his hot breath against my neck.

His deep voice echoes in my mind, urging me to let go, to give him everything.

I thrust my fingers deeper, my body clenching around them, as waves of pleasure crash over me.

Really? I just got off thinking of him? I could have imagined anyone else and it wouldn’t have been so damn embarrassing. What the hell is wrong with me?

Towel in hand, disappointment floods me. It was good, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his fingers, his mouth, or his cock. It was just a hollow imitation. Shit. I’ve been missing him, and that’s unacceptable. I need to find a way to purge him from my thoughts. First step: stop thinking about him. Besides, it’s not him I miss. It’s the sex.

Dressed and ready, I stride downstairs. Siren rehearsals, the music, and the thrill of performing consume my thoughts.

I shout a quick goodbye to Griffen, then dash out the door. Dark clouds hover above, casting a shadow over the city. I flick on the wipers, squinting through the rain-smeared glass.

I weave through traffic, autopilot kicking in, the radio a distant hum.

A screech pierces the air. I look up just in time to see a truck barreling toward me. Everything slows. Adrenaline spikes. I slam the brakes—too late. The truck slams into my Range Rover. I fight for control, but the SUV veers off, crashing into a building. The impact throws me forward, the seatbelt biting into my chest. Breath knocks out of me. I gasp, panic creeping in as the acrid smell of burning rubber fills the air.

Fumbling with the seatbelt, I finally free myself and shove the door open, legs shaking. What the hell just happened? I glance up to see the truck parked nearby.

The driver’s door swings open, and a middle-aged man jumps out, frantically holding his phone. “I’ll call you back,” he mutters before hanging up and turning toward me, guilt painted across his face. “Are you alright?” he asks, hurrying over with an expression that screams regret. “I’m really sorry, it’s my fault,” he stammers. “I was trying to answer a text, and I looked down and—” His voice trails off.

“I’m fine,” I snap, still shaken. He’s in a suit, tie undone, hair messy from the crash.

“Are you sure?” He reaches for my arm, but I pull away. “You’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine,” I repeat, eyes on the Range Rover. The damage’s bad but not catastrophic There’s a sizable dent in the front and rear passenger door, and the paint’s scuffed, but overall, everything seems to be fine, and the airbags didn’t deploy. It’s a mess, but it’s manageable.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say as he once again apologizes, forcing a grin. “Accidents happen.”

Bystanders snap photos, as if this is the latest city spectacle.

His truck’s wrecked—front end crumpled, windshield shattered, glass everywhere. I tell him I don’t need the cops or a ride. After some grumbling, he hands me his business card and insists I call his insurance.

I nod, offer a tight smile, and climb back into the Range Rover. The aftershocks hit—aching muscles, a brutal reminder of how much worse it could’ve been.

I focus on the road, determined to leave the mess behind. At the Pavilion, the familiar thrum of music greets me as I rush inside. I drop my bag in the dressing room and head straight for rehearsal.

I slip into the routine mid-flow, the music’s pulse syncing with my steps. The other Sirens move like liquid, and I match their rhythm, pushing through the gnawing ache in my chest and shoulder.

“That’s a wrap,” Dom calls, cutting through the music. “Great job, ladies. You’re dismissed.”

I roll my shoulder, wincing. Tomorrow’s show is going to hurt.

I swing open my dressing room door, and my stomach sinks. Alicia’s lounging at my vanity like she owns the place.

“What the hell are you doing in my dressing room?”

She glances up through the mirror, disdain dripping from her eyes. Her designer dress and flawless makeup clashing with my sweat-drenched skin and tangled hair.

“I wanted to talk,” she replies coolly, not even bothering to face me.

“Talk about what?” I demand, crossing my arms.

She stands, turns slowly, and smirks. “Seems you’ve been busy, Rory—or should I say Jade?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I retort, struggling to keep my cool.

“Don’t play dumb,” she sneers, stepping closer. She shoves her phone in my face. There’s a picture of me with a client from weeks ago.

“So, I had sex with some random guy. What’s it to you?”

Her smirk widens. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve outdone yourself. Just made yourself even more of a whore.”

“Fuck off, Alicia,” I snap, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open.

“I can ruin you, Rory.” Her voice trails after me. “Your bank statements? Payments from several men, not Sovereign. I could share those details easily.” I turn back, my pulse pounding. Her smirk is infuriating. “And those photos? Imagine what your father would think if he knew his little girl was nothing but a common whore.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” My voice is steady, though my heart races.

“Wouldn’t I?” Her tone drips with false sweetness. “Your father, your brother, even Axel—they’d all be horrified. Do you really want them to find out?”

“I am not a whore,” I snap, my anger boiling over.

“Oh, please. You fuck men for money—that’s the textbook definition of a whore. You could have any Sovereign, but instead, you go after the lowest of the low. Why is that, Rory?”

“Fuck you,” I snarl, stepping closer. “Who I sleep with is none of your goddamn business.”

“No, sweetie. It is my business when you’re screwing men who aren’t Sovereigns. And getting paid for it. That makes you a traitor. An enemy of the Sovereign.”

“There’s nothing in the oath that says I can’t sleep with non-Sovereigns.”

“But you’re not just fucking them. You’re selling yourself. And according to the oath, that makes you an enemy.”

“I’m not an enemy,” I shoot back, though doubt creeps into my voice.

“Servants must rely on the Sovereign for everything . That’s the oath. So, tell me, Rory—what do you think the Sovereign would do if they found out about a Siren whoring herself out? Raking in her own cash, just for kicks?”

“How the hell did you get those photos?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she says with a smile that makes me want to slap it off her face. “What matters is what I’m going to do with them. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“I want your mother’s villa in Venice—the deed, the keys, everything.”

“What?” Shock is evident in my voice. “My father sold that place after she died.”

“No, he didn’t. Your mother left it to you in her will.”

“No way. You’re lying!” My voice trembles, and I’m struggling to keep it together.

“I’m not,” she says triumphantly. “Your mother was clever. She kept a lot from your father, but that estate was always hers. Your name’s on the deed, not his.”

“That’s impossible…I would’ve known.”

“Well, now you do. So, what are you going to do about it?” She folds her arms, enjoying my distress.

“Why do you want the villa?”

“It’s none of your business.” She shrugs dismissively.

“I don’t believe you. My dad would never lie about something like that.”

“Believe what you want. But the villa’s yours. So, unless you want me to spill your little secret, you’ll sign it over to me.”

“You can’t blackmail me. This is bullshit.”

“Yes, I can,” she says, her smile a wicked twist. “And I will. So, what’s it going to be, Rory?”

“Why do you even want it?”

“Again, that’s none of your concern,” she snaps. “Now, what’s your decision?”

“Fuck you,” I spit, fists balled at my sides.

“Here’s the deal, Rory. You’ve got until the end of the month to hand over the villa. If not, I’ll send those photos and bank statements to your father, Spencer, the High Chancellor, and Axe.”

“They’ll kill me,” I plead, panicked.

“You made this mess. You knew the rules, broke the oath.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can.” She stands and strides toward the door. “End of the month. Or your dirty secret’s all over the place.” She opens the door, pausing to throw a final icy look over her shoulder. “Oh, and one more thing: you step down as lead Siren.”

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged.” She shrugs, a cold glint in her eyes. “I’m sure your father and the Sovereign will understand.”

Laughing, she struts out of the dressing room.

Fear, rage, and shame swirl inside me. I need to act, but how? One wrong move, and I’m done. The Sovereign won’t excuse this; my father will disown me. They’ll kill me. Breaking the oath is not tolerated.

Tears blur my vision as a sob erupts from my chest. I stagger to the sink, trembling.

I need a plan. But what? I’m trapped.

Gripping the sink, I catch my reflection in the mirror—bloodshot eyes, tear-streaked face. Is Alicia telling the truth? Is the villa really mine? Why would Dad keep this from me?

And what about my mom? Did she have secrets too?

I have to see my father. Now.

I splash water on my face, trying to pull myself together. Panicking won’t help. I need to stay calm. I take deep breaths, trying to steady the storm inside, though the pit in my stomach grows deeper with each passing second.

I bolt from the dressing room, my pulse pounding in sync with the relentless downpour. Rain beats against my windshield as I tear through the city, disregarding every traffic law and pedestrian in my path.

I slam into the parking lot and park haphazardly. My hand shakes as I jab the buttons. The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside. No, she must be lying. My father wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t.

I charge toward his office. My father is at his desk, flanked by high-ranking Sovereigns. Spencer looks up, his surprise clear.

“Rory!” My father’s shock morphs into anger. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just barge in here.”

“Did Mom leave the villa to me?” I demand, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound assertive.

His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Answer me!” I insist, my voice wavering as I fight to keep my composure.

“I sold it,” he snaps, his expression a mask of stone.

“You’re lying! You never sold it!” I shout, desperation creeping in.

He stands, his rage unmistakable, and dismisses the others with a cold command.

“This meeting is adjourned.” The Sovereigns shuffle out, casting wary glances my way.

“Answer me! Did Mom leave me the villa?”

“Rory, now isn’t the time for this.” Dad snaps, his frustration clear in the way he exhales,

“But I deserve to know the truth!”

“Enough, Rory!”

“Please,” I plead, my voice cracking as tears streak down my cheeks. “Dad, did she leave it to me?”

“Yes.” His reply is nonchalant as if it’s not a big deal.

“And you never told me? Why would you keep this from me?”

“Rory, calm down,” he says in a condescending tone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I had my reasons,” he says, his jaw tight.

“What reasons?”

“That’s enough! You need to leave.” His voice is stern, and he glares at me, his eyes full of warning.

“I want the truth!” I shout, my hands shaking uncontrollably as tears streak down my face.

“Your mother never should have taken you there,” he grits out, seething. “I should have known better than to trust her.”

“What does that mean?” I demand, confusion and hurt mingling. “You’re hiding something. I have a right to know!” My voice trembles, but I stand my ground.

“VICTORIA!” he roars, face flushed with rage. “ENOUGH! That’s an order!”

“But—”

“I SAID GET OUT!” His voice is so loud that the glass rattles.

“Fine,” I whisper. “You’ve never been a father to me anyway.” I whirl around, the sting of his words cutting deep, and rush down the hallway.

Spencer’s urgent shouts follow me, his footsteps hammering behind me.

“Rory! Rory, wait!” He grabs my arm, halting my escape.

“Did you know?!” I demand, voice breaking, eyes shooting daggers through my tears. “Did you know he’s been lying to me all these years?!”

He shakes his head, looking pained. “I had no idea.”

“He lied to me,” I choke out, trembling with the raw sting of betrayal. “All these years, and he’s been lying.”

Spencer pulls me into a hug.

“He hates me, Spencer. He’s always hated me,” I sob into his chest, my tears soaking through his shirt.

“That’s not true,” he says, voice steady as he holds me. He presses a kiss to my head. “Whatever happened, whatever the reason, he loves you.”

“How could he keep something so important from me? How could he lie about this?” I whisper, the disbelief tightening my chest. “That villa was all I had left of her, and he took it away.”

“I don’t know. But he must have had a reason.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, brushing away my tears. “I can’t trust him anymore.”

“Rory, come on. You’ve got to give him a chance to explain.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t exactly rushing to explain.”

“Just give him some time. You barged in on an important meeting. He needs time to calm down. It’s going to be okay. Just go home and get some rest.”