Sovereign || Ben Solo

Prologue

Once upon a time is such a cliché and easy start to a story, but here we are. Now this story doesn't include a castle or a prince meeting the love of his life and running away happily ever after. It doesn't include the fairy tale ending we all love and adore. No. This story is real life. It's raw. It's emotional. It doesn't end how we all hope it will. But that's what life is. It isn't happy endings. It isn't finding the one true love. It's heartbreak and tears and fighting for the life you always dreamed of but are not sure if you'll get.

That's what this story is. And it's your story. The story of a girl who tried to be woman. The story of a person who never fit in. The story of a dreamer.

Now reader, before you get all sentimental on me, remember one thing. Your dreams and aspirations are very different from what you may expect. So be warned. And don't fall into the trap that the devil placed before you. Beauty. The ultimate deception.

We all know the seven deadly sins, but did you know there is a secret eighth? No, because even though it isn't real, it exists in my mind, and will soon exist in yours. Don't go about asking what this secret eighth sin is. You'll eventually find out, even if the subtly creates the illusion that I have yet to tell you. What you don't know is that I've already explained it. I've already laid out the foundation for you. There's no turning back now.

And that's where this story begins. In the mind of a young woman who knows nothing about anything and who dreams even when she shouldn't. In the mind of a person who drifts off into space at any convenience and never reappears until absolutely necessary.

Gwen Asley.

That's your name. That's you. Those nine letters make up your identity. I know, it's not the most exciting name and you probably hate it yourself, but it's what you were given, it's what you got. And so, you made the best of it. And you made sure that it would be known across the world. But you would just have to do with being known across the country for now.

The psychiatrist, Dr. Asley. That's what people knew you as. You were the best psychiatrist in the goddamn country. People from the farthest corners would arrive in your office, high up in one of the tallest buildings in New York city, just because they heard your name in some newspaper article.

You dealt with the hardest and the easiest of cases. The range helped your own mind, your own heart, to stay focused, to not let yourself drift away. You worked with the worst criminals, dissecting their minds to determine what made them the way they were, what made them commit such heinous crimes against humanity. The work was fascinating. The things you would learn were eye-opening, brain-melting, terrifying yet intriguing facts.

Not many people have ever seen the inside of a murderer's mind. You were a lucky one. It is a wonder, those minds. A miracle of sorts. How the mind of a psychopath works. They don't think like the normal person. The level of narcissism is like no other. They simply don't care.

And they simply never will.

All of the serial killers that you have spoken to openly admit to their crimes. They are proud of them. Not a single drop of fear or regret landed in your detailed notes. Only pride and the palpable need to kill and kill again.

It is their artform. Killing. It is how they express themselves. It is how they show their creativity. Like an artist, they have their niche. They have special tools or methods that help them create their masterpiece. The masterpiece tainted by blood and death.

The art of the thrill.

But I don't want to terrify you with the mind of a serial killer just yet. I don't want you to run away and hide for weeks just because you're scared. Your mind may not be fully prepared to take on the role that you have been given as the Psychiatrist. Not yet. So, I'll move on. I'll take you on another journey, a more light-hearted adventure. One that includes the other part of your life.

Well, if you call your underground night life light-hearted.

Yes, you heard me right. Underground night life. The life that played out in the shadows.

The most cunning and illusive mistress in the city. Only met with by the wealthiest of wealthy. Dreamt about by the average men and women. Envied by those who tried and failed. You were like a fever dream to many. Those who actually met you and scavenged enough money to play the game were starstruck, dumbfounded that you were actually real, truly existed. That they could physically see you. That you weren't a figment of their imagination.

You were an unstoppable force at night. No one knew your name. No one could get past your walls. No one could break down your business. Untouchable. That was how you built your brand. Secrecy lied around it. And much money. So much money. But it fueled the dream. It fueled the lifestyle. And there was nothing that anyone, not even you, could do to bring it to its knees.

You were the Sovereign.

You spent every night in that club. Hidden away in your own space. No one, besides your girls, knew you were there. That you even existed. Until word of mouth travelled from one trillionaire to the other. And then you would find yourself with a new client and a shitload of money. The next victim.

That and the lucrative psychiatry career helped you create the lifestyle you lived now. The galas. The expensive dinner parties. The many men, or rather billionaire boys, who tried to win you over. The penthouse apartment that filled the entire level. The several vacation houses spread across the world.

And most importantly, the thrill of it all.

But there was always something missing. That's what you expect me, the narrator, to say next, isn't it? Well, you'd be wrong. There was nothing missing. You were perfectly content. Nothing could go wrong. And nothing ever did go wrong. Everything always went right. It was a proven fact.

Don't be jealous of your new life just yet. That isn't where the story ends. Or did you already forget how this all started? With once upon a time. With the tragedy that is real life.

So no, everything did not go right. Everything went to absolute shit. And you couldn't do anything to stop it. It hit you like a fucking freight train. No light or sound to warn you, no way to stop it. Just a full blown and sudden attack.

And then everything fell apart.