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M y voice is hoarse, my throat raw from screaming. Tears streak down my face, leaving my eyes swollen and red. I can’t believe this is happening. I sit in a corner chair in Dad’s office as he argues on the phone with Commander Zane.

The door bursts open, and Spencer rushes in. Relief washes over me as I leap up and throw my arms around him. He holds me tight as my sobs shake us both.

“Jesus, Dad. What the fuck is going on?!” he shouts.

Dad slams his phone onto the desk and lets out a heavy sigh.

Spencer is my half-brother, a product of Dad’s first marriage. At thirty, he’s strong and the most loyal and protective big brother anyone could ask for. Raised to be a Sovereign Commander like our father, he has a soft side only for me and has always been my go-to when I’m in trouble.

I texted him immediately but didn’t know what to tell him. I’m not even sure what the hell is happening.

Dad paces the room, running a hand through his hair repeatedly. His face is etched with worry, as if he’s aged a decade since this morning.

“Why the fuck is Rory being forced to marry him?!”

Dad exhales heavily. “He redeemed a Bond.”

“You issued a Death Bond to Axel Hawthorne? Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” Spencer’s words are a mix of disbelief and fury. Until two hours ago, the name Axel Hawthorne meant nothing to me, just another shadow in Dad’s twisted world. But judging by the panic in everyone’s eyes, he’s not someone to mess with.

The image of him is seared into my brain. How did I not notice him the second I walked in? The guy’s a walking nightmare—built like a tank with broad shoulders that block out the light. Tattoos crawl up his neck and arms. His dark hair is shaved into a rough undercut, and those piercing brown eyes? They look right through you, like he’s already decided where to bury the body.

“I did what I had to do,” Dad says coldly, as if he’s just signed a routine contract, not a death sentence.

Spencer’s face is practically glowing red, his rage a ticking time bomb. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in shock, trying to wrap my head around the shitstorm. My entire life is about to get flipped upside down, and the worst part? There’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Spencer and Dad’s voices clash like thunder. Their argument spirals into chaos, and the whole room feels suffocating. My thoughts are a tangled mess, everything that’s happened in the past few hours hitting me like a freight train.

Why the hell would Dad drag me into this? How could he do this to me?

And then, because my day apparently isn’t shitty enough, in struts Alicia—Dad’s new wife.

Her heels click obnoxiously against the concrete floor as she enters—tall and thin, draped in designer labels like a mannequin. Her makeup is flawless, her hair styled to perfection; a walking stereotype of a rich, shallow bitch who thinks money can buy class.

Alicia’s only a few years older than me. Gross. She’s constantly trying to outdo me, whether it’s copying my car, my clothes, or even the way I style my hair. It’s like she’s so desperate to be me she’s forgotten how to be...well, whatever the hell she used to be.

It’s pathetic, really. And the jealousy? Oozes off her, thick and bitter. She hates Spencer and me for existing, hates that Dad’s attention isn’t solely hers. The gold digger vibe is impossible to miss, her eyes practically glowing with dollar signs and zero substance. No depth. No soul.

“Conrad, darling, I’m here.”

I clench my jaw, swallowing the urge to slap her Botox-filled face. She slithers up to Dad, placing her perfectly manicured claws on his shoulder like she’s marking her territory.

Rolling my eyes, I glance at Spencer, whose glare could cut glass.

“What’s going on? I’ve been worried sick.” The forced concern in her voice nearly makes me gag. She’s only worried about losing the golden ticket—his money, his influence.

“This is between us,” my brother growls, voice low and threatening.

“Nonsense. I’m family now.”

Family. Barf .

I can’t endure this any longer. I need air, space—anything but this bullshit. I storm out of the office, Spencer and Dad’s escalating argument fading behind me as I head down the long corridor.

The crisp air hits my lungs like a cold slap. I inhale deeply, trying to ground myself, but my feet seem to have a mind of their own, steering me aimlessly down the sidewalk. The noise of the city blurs into background static, but it doesn’t stop the rising panic. My phone buzzes incessantly in my pocket, but I ignore it. I know it’s the other Sirens, wondering why I bailed on rehearsal. They’re my friends, but right now, I can’t face anyone. If I say it out loud, it becomes real, and I’m not ready to let this nightmare sink in.

A sob tears out of me, raw and jagged. I collapse against a cold brick wall and wrap my arms around my knees. Tears stream freely now, unstoppable.

Married? To some asshole I don’t even know? I’ve fought so hard to have control over my life, to live it the way I want to. Now, my entire future is being ripped from my grasp.

A car pulls up beside me. The window rolls down, and Spencer’s concerned face appears. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

I wipe my tears with shaky hands and climb into the car. After parking outside my house, he turns to me.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head, staring at the floor.

“I’ll figure something out,” he continues in a soft but firm voice. “Don’t worry, okay? Just stay away from him.”

Nodding, I exit the car, but his words don’t bring me any hope. If Dad can’t fix this mess, no one can.

The quiet inside my house is stifling, hitting me like a wall. Upstairs, I collapse onto my bed, sobbing. I shove my face into the pillow, feeling my world unraveling with every heartbeat.

Screw this. I need a distraction.

Grabbing my phone, I swipe away the flood of unread messages piling up throughout the day. Without overthinking it, I text Jamie.

Me: Do you have anything good?

Jamie: Always. What do you need?

Me: Something to fuck me up.

Jamie: I can do that. Come over.

I bolt out of bed, yank on a hoodie and sweatpants, and grab my keys and wallet. The door slams shut behind me as I head for the garage. My G-Wagon’s still parked at the Iron, but I’ve got backup. I slide into my Audi R8, the engine growling to life, a perfect echo of the anger simmering inside me. The black machine hugs the road as I weave through the streets.

Jamie was the first Sovereign I ever fucked. He’s the perfect distraction. Always down for a quick fuck and a party. He likes to pride himself, claiming that he showed me how to fuck a real man. He’s not wrong, but I’ve certainly moved on since then.

I park in Jamie’s building garage and take the elevator up to the penthouse. The doors slide open to a roar of music and laughter, the bass vibrating through the floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across one wall, showing off the glittering skyline. The modern, sleek furniture is built for entertaining, with a massive bar, fully stocked against another wall.

Jamie’s parties are legendary—over-the-top and depraved.

He spots me immediately, cutting through the crowd with a grin sharp enough to slice steel. “Rory! You look like shit.”

“Fuck off.” I brush past him, heading straight for the bar. Grabbing a bottle, I pour a hefty shot and down it in one gulp. Oh, that burn feels good!

“Woah, easy there.” Jamie chuckles, sliding up beside me. “What’s with the shitty mood?” My eyes fill with tears at his question, and I quickly blink them away.

“I just want to forget about it,” I reply, my voice unsteady.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small baggie of white powder. “It’s good stuff,” he says, handing it over. “You’ll forget your fucking name.”

“Perfect.” Snatching the bag, I head straight for the bathroom.

Inside, I dump the powder onto the counter, roll a dollar bill, and bend down. The burn sears through my nose, sharp and punishing, but the rush is instantaneous. My heart pounds, and a wave of euphoria crashes over me, numbing everything else.

The room spins as I stumble back into the living room. Everything is too bright, too loud, the world shimmering with a surreal, hazy glow. People are dancing, their bodies blurring into a swirl of colors. The music’s a deafening roar, shaking the walls.

“Rory, you good?” Jamie’s voice pierces through the heavy bass.

“Yeah, I’m great,” I slur, plastering on a wide grin. I stagger to the bar, pouring myself another drink.

The mix of alcohol and drugs sends me floating, all the gnawing fears and suffocating worries slipping away into the haze. I dive into the crowd, letting the music swallow me whole. Jamie’s right there with me, his hands all over my body as we grind together. He kisses my neck, but I feel nothing. And for once, I’m grateful. I don’t want to feel a damn thing.

We haven’t hooked up in a while. Jamie is a typical Sovereign: cocky, confident, and a player. But right now, he’s exactly what I need—a distraction, an escape from the shitstorm of my life.

He grabs my hand, leading us to his bedroom. The second the door clicks shut, his lips crash against mine, his tongue forceful and demanding. It’s hungry, almost desperate, and I melt into it, the haze blurring the lines between reality and whatever the hell this is.

He shoves me onto the bed and then yanks off his clothes. His hands are on me in an instant, exploring every inch of my skin.

“Fuck, Rory, I’ve missed you,” he breathes against my neck, his lips trailing fire down my body. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure through me, making my back arch, craving more. His kisses, rough and heated, stir a storm of sensation.

“Jamie, please,” I gasp, desperate for him to be inside me. Pulling my pants down, he thrusts inside me with a deep groan.

No talking, no foreplay, just pure fucking.

His pace is rough and fast, and he pounds into me relentlessly. I’m lost in the pleasure, my mind floating away in a euphoric whirl where nothing else exists but the moment—pure bliss. He tightens his grip on my hips. His grunts and moans fill the air, and I cry out as my orgasm tears through me.

Following me, he groans my name as he spills inside me. Burying his face in my neck, he stays inside me for a moment, breathing heavily.

“Your pussy is still as good as ever, Rory,” he pants, his lips grazing my neck. I can’t even open my eyes, but a lazy smile tugs at my lips as I savor the heavy weight on me. Our breaths mingle in the silence.

Finally, he shifts off me, the bed dipping as he moves away.

My thoughts are sluggish, tangled in the haze of whatever the hell he gave me. Everything’s numb. The high is too strong, too overpowering, dragging me down into a restless sleep filled with twisted nightmares.

The first rays of sunlight slice through the curtains, sharp and unforgiving. I groan, wincing at the pounding in my head and the dull ache in my muscles. Jamie’s sprawled beside me, snoring softly, his arm draped across me like a heavy blanket.

I fumble for my phone, wincing as the screen lights up. Twelve missed calls. Spencer. Of course. I swipe the notifications away, not ready to deal with his worry.

Jamie stirs beside me, his arm tightening around me.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is rough with sleep.

“Like shit,” I mumble.

He chuckles, “Told you it was good stuff.”

Memories of yesterday crash back like a tidal wave, and tears prick at my eyes. I turn to him, my voice trembling.

“Jamie, what can you tell me about Axel Hawthorne?”

The question seems to wake him up fully. He stares at me, his expression tight with concern. “He’s a dangerous motherfucker, Rory. Stay the hell away from him.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back the sob that’s clawing its way up my throat. “I don’t have a choice,” I manage to croak.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s forcing me to marry him,” I whisper, the words sounding surreal.

“Fuck, Rory. Are you serious?” Jamie’s eyes widen in disbelief as I nod, swiping at the tears streaking my cheeks. “How?”

“Dad gave him a Death Bond. I don’t even know what the hell that is.”

“Fuck, shit.”

“Why? What does that mean?” My heart races, each beat echoing the dread building inside me.

“It means your dad asked him to do something fucking shady, and Axe’s price was you.”

“But why?! I don’t mean anything to him or even know him! What could he want with me?”

“Fuck if I know,” Jamie mutters. “Axe is a ghost. He does whatever the hell he wants. Everyone in the Sovereign knows not to fuck with him. Your dad was a fucking idiot for making that deal.” The reality of the situation finally sinks in.

I rest my head on his chest, but the nausea hits hard. I leap out of bed and barely make it to the bathroom before losing my stomach.

The drive home is a chaotic blur. I barely manage a quick shower before yanking on my rehearsal gear. The Pavilion looms ahead, and I dash inside, slipping into my dressing room unnoticed.

The Sirens’ laughter echoes from the studio, sharp and grating against my nerves. Overwhelmed, I stumble to the sink and vomit again, the hangover and stress combining into a vicious wave.

Taking a deep breath, I pull myself together before stepping out of the dressing room. As soon as I enter the studio, everything goes quiet.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I snap, glaring at their curious faces.

They exchange looks but stay quiet. Taking my place at the mirrored wall, I stretch, forcing myself to focus.

The music starts, and I slip into the choreography almost on autopilot, my heart not in it. After an hour, Dom storms into the studio, his voice cutting through the haze of my disorientation.

“Move to the stage in fifteen! We’re running the show from the top!”

Dominic is an Associate, someone who works for a Sovereign but doesn’t belong to the Sovereign. A Sovereign pays him well to keep his mouth shut. He’s respected for his talent as both a manager and choreographer.

Bradley follows close behind, and my stomach knots as his gaze locks onto mine. His presence is unsettling. He’s the Sovereign in charge of the Pavilion, and an absolute asshole. The Pavilion is more than just a venue for Siren shows; it’s a hub for underground gambling, drugs, and other illicit activities.

He treats the Sirens like his personal sex dolls and takes whatever he wants. While Servants are not allowed to say no to a Sovereign, my father, being a Commander, keeps most unwanted attention away.

However, Bradley’s eyes are always searching for a chance to exploit his power.

His voice is sharp and unforgiving as it slices through the room. “You missed practice yesterday, Rory.”

I stammer an apology, my pulse quickening. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t.” He closes the distance between us. “You’re my main attraction, Rory. Don’t make me regret that.”

I don’t have the energy for his shit. My fingers curl into fists, but I bite back the urge to argue.

“Understood,” I say in a steady voice despite my nerves.

With one final glare, Bradley strides out.

Grabbing a bottle, I gulp down the cool liquid, trying to shake off the lingering haze. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the routine ahead.

I’m Victoria Valentine, Lead Siren. I can fucking do this. I can pretend like my life isn’t falling apart around me.

For now, at least.