Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
The air was colder than she expected. Crisp and clean, with the kind of silence that made her ears ring.
Bea crossed through an empty walkway near the business faculty, boots tapping against the stone.
She pulled her coat tighter, her breath clouding in the air.
She’d taken this route before, but in the stillness, every step sounded too loud.
Night had a way of making even familiar places feel strange.
Then came the voices.
Low. Lazy. Male.
Her stomach tightened as she glanced up. Two figures now stood near the path. Deep, swaggering laughter rolled between them.
Their faces were vaguely familiar; she’d seen them around campus. Graduates. Probably had board seats waiting, last names that did the work for them, and money that protected them from aggravation. She couldn’t imagine they’d ever in their lives been denied anything, nor expected to be.
Bea kept walking. Adjusting her pace, posture, to look more confident.
They spotted her.
“Hey,” the shorter man called out, perusing her from head to toe. “Aren’t you one of the scholarship girls?”
She secured the bag to her side like armor.
“Didn’t think they let you out this late,” the taller man said, smiling like it was a joke. But there was curiosity behind it. The kind that evaluated.
“Where you headed?” the first one asked, casual.
She didn’t stop.
“No need to rush,” the second one murmured. The words weren’t sharp. But something lodged under her ribs was.
One of them moved, edging toward the path. Not close enough to block it, but enough that it registered.
Bea’s fingers curled, not quite a fist, but ready.
She wasn’t scared. Just alert. Very, very alert.
And then— “That’s enough.”
The voice wasn’t hers. It was deeper. Lethal in its quietness.
The men froze. Bea spun.
Gage.
It had been over a week since she’d seen him in person. Now he stood at the end of the path, one hand in his pocket, gaze like a scalpel as it sliced through the space between them.
Recognition passed across the men’s faces, silent and instant. The shorter man glanced at Bea, then back at Gage. His confusion crystalized into clarity. “Oh,” he said. “Right. I thought you looked familiar.”
Bea’s insides pulled tight.
The taller man scoffed under his breath, shaking his head, like the whole thing made sense. “Didn’t know she was yours.”
Her pulse flickered, sharp, immediate. “I’m not—” she began, but Gage cut in.
“Now you know.”
One of them backed off with a nod. “All good.”
The other followed with a low chuckle. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”
They were gone within seconds.
Gage didn’t move until they’d left. Then, slowly, he turned to her. “You always take the long way home?”
“I’ve never had a problem before,” she responded a little absently. Her mind was still catching up to the fact he was here. That it had worked. Just his voice.
He took in the empty stretch of path. “You had one tonight.”
She should have told him she could handle herself. That it wasn’t his job. But her heartbeat had settled the moment she saw him—because Gage didn’t escalate; he ended it before it started.
Bea let out a slow breath, the pressure in her chest dissipating. “Thanks for that.”
Gage approached. Then, casually, he reached out, fingers brushing the strap of her bag before taking it from her shoulder and slinging it over his own.
“What are you doing?”
He turned toward Mayfield Hall, her bag now resting against his side. “Walking you home.”
Bea fell into step beside him.
The moment should have passed. A couple of half-tipsy guys, a weird encounter, nipped in the bud. Except this was the UR, and it felt different. Like something had been tallied. Filed. And she knew the man beside her had seen it far more clearly than she had.
“That was nothing. Right?”
Gage glanced at her. “What do you think?”
“I think it made me a little nervous.” Then, softer, “And I think you let them believe something that isn’t true.”
He didn’t rush to explain himself. Eventually, evenly, he asked her, “Would you rather they didn’t?”
Bea frowned. “Would it have changed anything?”
His gaze stayed forward, expression unreadable under the streetlights. “They weren’t going to hurt you.” His voice was calm. “They were testing you.”
“To see how I’d react?”
He nodded. “To check whether you came with consequences.”
She understood spoiled men. Entitled men. But something about the way Gage said it wasn’t about ego. It sounded more like a warped form of etiquette.
“Consequences?” she repeated.
Gage sent her a sidelong look. “The UR isn’t dangerous for women, Bea. It can’t afford to be. There are punishments here—brutal ones—to ensure the worst things never happen at all.” He paused. “But it’s still a game. And every man on this campus knows how to play it.”
She took a minute to work that out, to process. Trying to untangle what she’d felt and what she’d assumed.
Her body had braced for threat.
But on closer inspection, maybe that needed refining. Now, she dissected their words. Their body language. They hadn’t actually threatened her. Assessed her, definitely. Like she was on offer.
Maybe not like a potential victim. Maybe just…potential.
“They listened to you.”
A faint smirk touched his mouth. “Of course they did.”
“Why?”
“Because men like them don’t challenge men like me.”
Bea slowed. “And what does that mean for me?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Tonight? Nothing. Tomorrow? Everyone will know where you stand.”
A curl of heat unspooled at the base of her spine.
His meaning snapped in place.
The test had been to see if she was already spoken for. Whether she had someone who would step in.
Now they had their answer.
Except it wasn’t quite true. Whatever this was between her and Gage, if it was anything at all, was still forming. Still hers to walk away from.
She didn’t want that choice stolen by implication. And she absolutely didn’t want to be something Gage fell into out of obligation. Not with him.
“I don’t like people making assumptions,” she said with quiet dignity.
Gage turned, just enough for his gaze to catch hers. “You sure they were wrong?”
Air stalled in her throat, suspended. This was her chance to draw a line.
She didn’t. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Her gaze locked in. He had the kind of face that made you believe in bloodlines.
Every angle of him was razor symmetry. Jaw, cheekbones, eyebrows.
But it was the sinew in his neck that caught her, the taut pull of muscle as he swallowed once.
She’d read about men like this in her books.
But she’d never met a real one, let alone one who was looking at her like that.
Her coat felt a hundred degrees too warm as heat pounded her veins.
Gage must have seen her thoughts playing across her face, because his posture eased fractionally.
They started moving again, walking in silence until they reached the steps of Mayfield Hall.
He slid her bag from his shoulder and placed it gently into her hands. Bea’s fingers wrapped around it.
She narrowed her eyes up at him. “You love deciding things for people, don’t you?”
His nostrils flared as he softly exhaled, almost amused. “You walked into my domain, Bea. Don’t be surprised that I know how to win.”
Bea hadn’t planned on staying up. But after the run-in with the men and her walk with Gage, her thoughts were too tangled to settle.
So when Georgina’s text came through, Upstairs, it was easier to follow the invite than to be alone.
The rooftop of Mayfield Hall glowed with warm fairy lights against the cool night. A few artfully mismatched blankets had been tossed over the chairs. The girls were already curled into them, drinks in hand. Beyond the railing, St. Ives shimmered, immaculate, ordered, unnervingly perfect.
Bea sank beside Naomi, knees tucked to her chest, accepting a mug of chamomile tea.
“Did we all just collectively give up tonight?”
“Yep,” Isabel confirmed.
“Completely,” Naomi added, passing her a bag of chips without looking up. “Salt and vinegar?”
“Perfect.”
Georgina, sprawled across a lounge chair, glanced over. “You look like you need it.”
Bea gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Long day.”
The girls talked in bursts: gossip, gripes, half-formed plans for the next gala, but Bea barely heard any of it. Her mind was still on Gage, on the men, on the uncertainty of tomorrow.
There was a question that had been sitting with her for weeks, quietly building. She needed a female perspective.
“Can I ask you guys something?”
Georgina tipped her mug lazily. Permission granted.
“Do you ever feel…scared?”
Naomi turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“I had a run-in earlier. Just a couple guys on the way home. It wasn’t anything. But…there are so many men here. On this campus. In this country.”
Naomi’s gaze sharpened. “Scared? Of course, sometimes. But not unsafe. Not here.”
Isabel made a soft sound of agreement.
Bea glanced down at her tea. “Back home, you can’t just assume. Doesn’t matter if it’s a stranger or someone you know. A tiny part of you is always guarding against it.” She paused. “Some girls I know have stories.”
That quieted the group.
Naomi’s brow furrowed, thoughtful. “Yeah…I guess we forget what it’s like outside. We were raised inside the system. You weren’t.” She shifted in her seat, finding a more comfortable position. “The men here are intense. Dominant. But they’re not careless.”
“That line you’re thinking of?” Georgina said. “They don’t cross it.” She looked at her, steady. “We’re protected. Like…aggressively protected.”
Bea had felt it. Even before tonight.
The absence of their fear.
There was an allure to powerful men, a natural feminine desire for their strength. Back home, though, it had been paired with quiet vigilance, a reflex to stay smart and keep your guard up. Just in case.
That reflex didn’t live in these women.
It had been designed out of their culture, because the culture controlled its men. Not just by law, but by expectation. To be a man in the UR was to be disciplined.
And somehow, in a place where men outnumbered women by so much, the women felt safer.
“Is that why you stay? In the UR, I mean. Instead of going to London, or Paris, or literally anywhere else.”
Isabel snorted. “You mean somewhere without the population talks?”
“Yeah.”
She expected them to laugh. But no one did.
For a full minute, no one answered. The breeze tugged at the edges of the blankets.
Then Isabel spoke. “This is home.”
Naomi nodded. “We’re raised to love it. From the time we were kids, it’s legacy. Duty. Stability.”
Georgina stretched out her legs, swirling the tea in her mug. “And look around, Bea. It’s not a bad deal. The UR is the wealthiest, safest, most powerful country in the world. People would kill to have what we have here.”
Bea’s gaze flicked back toward the skyline. St. Ives shimmered, beautiful, inviolable.
“I guess it’s different for us,” Georgie added. “But it’s the first law of economics, right? That rarity has value. And value is protected.”
Bea’s fingers curled tighter around her mug. “And claimed,” she breathed.
Georgina turned her head, unbothered. “In a sense.” A smile tugged at her lips. “But we have fun, we keep our options open. Just like women everywhere.”
“Everyone plays a game. The rules are just different here,” Naomi said.
“But you always know how it’ll end up,” Bea noted.
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It makes the stakes clear,” Isabel pointed out. “And if you choose the man, and the man chooses you, what’s wrong with that?”
Naomi sighed, tugging her blanket higher. “I want the family, the kids, the life. And I want it here. It’s easy to say you’d rather be free somewhere else, but…” She took a long sip of her chamomile. “…other places don’t run like the UR.”
Bea played with the ends of her hair. “Is it freedom if it’s built so you can’t walk away?”
“No one’s really free, Bea,” Georgina said sagely. “Just pick the cage you like best.”
It was too poetic to argue with. And too accurate to laugh off.
Naomi tilted her head toward her. “Did you ever hear of Natalie Wu?”
Bea shook her head. “Who’s Natalie Wu?”
“Graduated a few years ago. Took off the second her degree cleared. Spent two years partying around Asia. Gorgeous, rich, wild. Everyone thought she’d never come back.”
Isabel smirked. “Yeah, well. Guess who just got engaged to the heir of a UR shipping dynasty? Met him on a weekend in the Netherlands of all places. Fell in love in Paris. Now sports no less than seven carats’ worth of diamonds and is planning a summer wedding.”
“Wow. Boomerang effect.”
“Exactly,” Georgie confirmed. “We’re free to leave. But the UR pulls you back. It always does. The men. The protection. The future. It’s all here. Why fight gravity?”
She was beginning to grasp it.
In the UR, women didn’t just fit into the system. They were the reason it existed.
Stay, and you got everything: wealth, safety, prestige. In return, you became theirs: his wife, their citizen, this country’s future.
Naomi nudged her shoulder. “Enough deep thinking for now. Eat some chips.”
Bea blinked, like she’d just resurfaced. Existential crisis: paused. Chips: accepted.
She stuck her hand into the bag. “Yeah. Okay.”
And for the rest of the night, they let it be just that. A group of girls, a rooftop, and the last stretch of simplicity before the Republic asked more of them.