As I watched Sofia pick at her food, trying to force down small bites between shaky breaths, something fucking savage ripped through my chest. All those girls at school whoâd looked at her with envy, whispering about how lucky she was to be dating Jack Morrison - the golden boy quarterback with his family money and social status.
They had no fucking clue what was really happening behind closed doors.
My hands were trembling with barely contained rage. The fork in my grip was starting to bend under the pressure.
They saw the public displays, the expensive gifts, the way Jack would put his arm around her at school events. What they didnât see was the systematic humiliation, the psychological torture disguised as jokes, the way heâd weaponized her familyâs expectations to keep her trapped like some fucking animal.
Would I have looked away if it wasnât Sofia? The question burned through my mind like acid. If it was some random girl getting destroyed by that piece of shit, would I have just minded my own business?
"Master," ARIAâs voice whispered in my mind, cutting through the violent thoughts, "your stress indicators are spiking dangerously. Whatâs troubling you?"
"Jack Morrison," I thought back, my internal voice practically snarling. "The fact that heâs been getting away with this shit for months while everyone thinks heâs some kind of prince."
"Ah. Your protective instincts are engaging at concerning levels." There was a pause. "Though I should point out, even if Sofia wasnât one of your women, you likely would have ended Jack Morrison eventually. Despite your claims of self-interest, you have a pathological inability to ignore abuse of power, especially against women and little children."
She was right, and that somehow made it worse. I couldnât even pretend this was just about protecting what was mine. The thought of any girl - any fucking girl - being treated the way Sofia had been made me want to burn the world down.
I looked at Sofia again, really looked at her. Eighteen years old, just like Sarah and Emma. Getting ready for college, her whole life ahead of her, and some sadistic piece of shit had spent months systematically destroying her self-worth for his own entertainment.
The rage that hit me was so pure, so consuming, that I had to grip the edge of the table to keep from standing up and putting my fist through the window.
"Peter?" Madisonâs voice was gentle, concerned. "Youâre gripping the table like you want to break it."
I forced myself to breathe, to unclench my jaw. "Just thinking."
But the thoughts wouldnât stop coming. How many people had envied Jack Morrison? How many boys at Lincoln High had wished they could be him - rich, popular, dating one of the most beautiful girls in school? They had no idea that behind all that wealth and status was a pathetic little shit who got off on making women feel worthless because his own pathetic excuse for a cock couldnât get the job done.
Maybe that was it. Maybe Jack channeled all the power and energy he couldnât use in bed into humiliating and controlling Sofia. All that frustration from being inadequate where it mattered most, twisted into psychological torture.
The worst part? Jackâs friends had enabled it all. His teammates, his fraternity brothers, his high school crew - theyâd all watched him humiliate Sofia and said nothing. Some had even enjoyed the show, getting their own sick satisfaction from watching her degradation and in the end helped when he tried to rape her.
Those who did not agree- if there was any- stayed quiet because crossing Jack Morrison meant social suicide. He had the power to destroy their athletic careers, their college prospects, their entire futures with a few phone calls. So, they kept their mouths shut and let him continue his reign of terror.
Too bad for them. Someone wasnât going to let that shit continue.
"You know what?" I said, cutting into my pasta with enough force to scrape the plate. "I think itâs time I started going to some house parties."
Madisonâs eyebrows shot up. "House parties? Since when?"
"Since I realized there are things happening at those parties that need my attention." I took a deliberate sip of wine, my mind already working through possibilities. "Jackâs parties, specifically."
Understanding dawned in Madisonâs eyes, and she smiled - not her usual playful grin, but something sharper, more predatory. "You want to see it for yourself."
"I want to make sure it never happens again. To anyone."
Sofia looked up from her barely touched meal, confusion flickering across her tear-stained face. "What are you talking about?"
I softened my voice immediately, pushing down the rage that had been building. She didnât need to see that darkness right now. She needed to feel safe, supported, loved.
"Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart," I said gently. "Just some social planning."
But Sofia wasnât stupid. Sheâd caught the underlying current of the conversation, the way Madison and I were communicating without words. "Peter, you canât... you canât do anything that would make this worse for my family."
"Iâm not going to make anything worse for your family," I said, and it was the truth. What I was planning would make things infinitely better for her family, once they understood the full scope of what had been happening to their daughter.
Sofia pulled back to look at me, her eyes red but hopeful for the first time all evening. "What do you mean?"
I smiled, and I knew it probably looked dangerous.
Madison grinned, understanding immediately. "This is going to be satisfying."
"I donât understand," Sofia said, looking between us.
"You will," I said, helping her sit back properly and handing her a napkin. "But first, youâre going to eat something."
Sofia managed a small smile - the first genuine one Iâd seen from her all evening. "I trust you."
And as I watched her finally start to relax, I made a silent promise. No one was going to use Sofia as a bargaining chip ever again. Not her father, not Jack, not anyone.
She was mine to protect now. And I protected what was mine.