Jackson stepped inside, kicking his shoes off lazily at the entrance. The house smelled like something halfway between dinner leftovers and whatever candle his mom had burning that day. He could hear the distant hum of the TV from the living room, the familiar noise of home.
He wasn’t in the door for more than ten seconds before Rachel—his 19-year-old sister—leaned out from the kitchen, already rolling her eyes.
“Oh, look who finally decided to come home.”
Jackson barely looked at her. “What’s your problem?”
Rachel leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest, that smirk of pure condescension plastered on her face. “You. Just existing.”
Jackson clenched his jaw. It was always like this with her. She had a way of pushing his buttons effortlessly, always making herself the superior one, treating him like a kid even though they were practically the same age.
But today… today was different.
Today, he had the ring.
Jackson didn’t even think—he just wanted her to stop.
“I wish you had to do anything I say.”
The ring pulsed warm against his finger. A silent ripple passed through the room, like the air itself shifted around them.
Rachel blinked.
Then, before she could even react, Jackson tested it.
“Sit. Shut up.”
And she did.
Her legs buckled under her as if her own body had betrayed her, dropping into the chair at the kitchen table. Her lips pressed together so tightly they were almost white. Her hands trembled for half a second, gripping the edge of the chair—like she was still fighting, still trying to resist.
But she couldn’t.
Jackson stared.
Holy shit.
Rachel’s eyes were wild, burning with rage and panic, her breath coming faster now, like she was trying to force words out but couldn’t. Her body was completely still, but her face said everything—she was trapped in herself, fully aware of what had just happened.
Jackson felt a rush of something he couldn’t name.
Power.
Control.
For the first time ever, Rachel couldn’t talk back.
He took a slow breath, steadying himself. If he wasn’t careful, he could get lost in this feeling.
Jackson leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking down at her.
“You know what?” he said, voice calm, almost casual. “I don’t think you’ve ever shut up a single day in your life. You’ve always had something to say, always had to be the smartass, always had to be on top. Always acting like you’re better than me.”
Rachel’s nostrils flared. Her fingers twitched against the chair, like she was trying to make a fist, trying to move.
She couldn’t.
Jackson tilted his head. “Feels different, doesn’t it? Having someone else call the shots?”
Her chest rose sharply—furious, helpless breathing. Her body was so stiff, like she wanted to scream, punch something, do anything but sit there and listen.
And she had to listen.
Jackson exhaled slowly. He had never seen Rachel like this before. Vulnerable. Powerless.
And the best part?
She knew exactly what was happening.
She just couldn’t stop it.
Footsteps on the stairs.
Jackson’s head snapped toward the hallway.
Samantha.
His other sister—the smart one, the responsible one, the one who was supposed to be the “perfect” older sibling—was making her way downstairs, probably going for a snack before heading back to her room.
Jackson turned back to Rachel. He didn’t have time to think.
“You’re going to act like everything is normal. You’re not going to say a word about what just happened. Got it?”
Rachel’s body shuddered, her muscles tightening like she was trying to fight against the command. But as soon as Sam rounded the corner, her face snapped back to normal.
Expression neutral. Posture relaxed. Like nothing had happened.
Jackson watched, almost fascinated, as Rachel played it perfectly.
Sam barely even glanced at them. She grabbed a granola bar from the counter, ripping open the wrapper as she yawned.
“You guys fighting again?” she mumbled.
Jackson shrugged. “When aren’t we?”
Sam huffed a small laugh, already turning back toward the stairs.
Rachel didn’t say a single word.
She just sat there, staring at nothing, her face blank—but her eyes screaming.
Sam disappeared upstairs. The moment her footsteps faded—Rachel’s body tensed.
She tried to speak—but Jackson held up a hand.
“Nope. You’re still under my command.”
Rachel’s breath hitched.
Jackson took a step back, running a hand through his hair. His heart was still pounding.
He had done it. He had completely controlled Rachel and gotten away with it.
And now…
Now he had to decide what to do next.
He turned toward the stairs.
Sam had no idea what had just happened.
She was completely unaware of what Jackson had just done to Rachel—what he could do to her.
Jackson glanced down at his ring.
The power was still his.
And Rachel?
Rachel was still stuck.
Her entire body rigid, her fingers digging into the chair, her face burning red with anger, humiliation, and something else Jackson couldn’t quite place.
And she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Jackson took a slow breath.
He had one sister completely under his control.