Chapter 6 #2
He always called on Mondays. It was his way of "checking the assets." He didn't ask how I was. He asked about the stats. He asked about the win column. He asked if the pack was disciplined.
I couldn't deal with him today. Not when my defenses were this low.
By 8:00 PM, I was hiding.
I had skipped the team dinner at the Lodge. I told Jax I had to study, but instead, I went to the one place on campus where I felt safe.
The Sanctuary. Or, technically, the upper concourse of the arena, near the press box. It was high up, dark, and overlooked the ice. But tonight, the arena was being prepped for a figure skating event, so it was noisy and bright.
So I went to the training room.
It was risky. It was Faye’s territory. But the schedule said she was off duty tonight. The head trainer, Doc Miller, usually closed up on Mondays.
I let myself in with my keycard. The room was dark, illuminated only by the light of the parking lot filtering through the high windows. It smelled of antiseptic and... her.
It always smelled like her now.
I walked over to the main treatment table—the one where I had pinned her hand to my neck—and sat down on the edge. I dropped my head in my hands, rubbing my temples.
The headache had been building all day. A pressure behind my eyes that signaled a shift. My control was fraying. The Wolf was scratching at the door, demanding to be let out, demanding to find the Mate.
She's not your Mate, I told myself firmly. She's human. It's biological incompatibility.
My phone buzzed again.
I pulled it out. Father.
I stared at the screen, the glowing letters burning into my retinas. If I didn't answer, he would call the Coach. Then the Dean. Then he would show up.
I swiped accept.
"Father," I said, my voice flat.
"Oakley," the voice on the other end was like grinding stones. Cold. heavy. "You didn't answer the first three times."
"I was in class."
"Lying is a beta trait," Elias Thorne said. "I saw the game stats from Friday. You took three penalties. Unnecessary roughness. Fighting."
"They were checking our goalie," I defended. "I handled it."
"You lost control," Elias corrected. "I raised you better than that. A Thorne does not lose control. A Thorne dominates with precision. If you play like an animal, the Council will treat you like one. Do you understand?"
"I understand," I gritted out.
"Do you?" His voice dropped, becoming silky and dangerous. "Because I'm hearing rumors, Oakley. Rumors that you're distracted. Rumors that there's a... girl."
My blood ran cold. How? How did he know?
"There is no girl," I said, my grip on the phone tightening until the screen creaked.
"Good," Elias said. "Because if there was, and if she was anything less than pureblood stock, we would have a problem. You remember what happens when we mix with the weak, don't you? You remember your mother?"
The air left the room.
"Don't," I whispered. "Don't talk about her."
"She was weak, Oakley. She couldn't handle the bloodline. She broke. Do you want to break another one? Do you want to be responsible for another funeral?"
"I said stop!" I shouted, the roar echoing off the tile walls.
"Watch your tone," Elias snapped. "Fix your game. Get your grades up. And keep your dick in your pants. I'll be there for the championship. Don't disappoint me."
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone, my hand trembling violently.
The rage was a physical thing. It was a red haze clouding my vision. I wanted to break something. I wanted to destroy the world before it could destroy me.
I turned and hurled the phone across the room. It smashed against the far wall, shattering into pieces.
"Damn it!" I yelled, slamming my fist into the padded table. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
I slumped forward, burying my face in my hands, fighting the sting of tears that I refused to let fall. Alphas didn't cry. Monsters didn't cry.
"He's wrong, you know."
The soft voice cut through the darkness like a beacon.
I jerked my head up.
Faye was standing in the doorway of the hydrotherapy room. She was wearing her coat, her bag slung over her shoulder. She must have been in the back office.
She had heard everything.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced my chest. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough," she said softly.
She didn't leave. She didn't look at the shattered phone. She looked at me.
She walked into the room, her steps quiet on the rubber floor. She didn't stop until she was standing right in front of me, between my spread knees.
"You're shaking," she whispered.
"Get out, Faye," I choked out, turning my head away. "I can't... I can't do this right now. I'm not safe."
"Why?" she asked. "Because of what he said? About your mother?"
I flinched. "He's right. It's in the blood.
My father... he's a Feral. He masks it well with money and suits, but inside?
He's a monster. And he destroyed my mother.
She was human, Faye. Just like you. And he broke her.
He loved her so much he suffocated her, and when the madness took him, he... he hurt her."
The secret. The black stain on my soul that I had never told anyone. Not even Jax.
"I have his blood," I whispered, looking at my hands. "I have his temper. Every day I wake up and I check the mirror to see if my eyes have turned. To see if I'm gone."
I looked up at her, waiting for the horror. Waiting for her to run.
"I'm going to hurt someone eventually," I said. "And I won't let it be you."
Faye didn't flinch. She didn't back away.
Instead, she reached out. Her cool, small hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at her.
"Look at me, Oakley."
I stared into her hazel eyes. They were clear. steady.
"You are not your father," she said fiercely. "I've seen your father on TV. I've seen the interviews. He has dead eyes."
She brushed her thumb over the scar on my eyebrow.
"You don't have dead eyes," she whispered. "You have eyes that see everything. You noticed I was hungry when I didn't even know it. You drove me home in a blizzard to make sure I was warm. You stopped last night... you stopped when I needed you to."
"I almost didn't," I argued.
"But you did," she insisted. "That's the difference. You have a conscience. He doesn't."
"Faye..."
"You think you're a monster because you have teeth?" She shook her head, a sad smile touching her lips. "Oakley, everyone has teeth. It's about whether you use them to bite or to protect."
She moved closer, stepping into my space until her thighs brushed against mine.
"I'm not afraid of your blood," she said. "And I'm not your mother. I'm not fragile."
"You are," I groaned, wrapping my arms around her waist and burying my face in her stomach. I held on tight, grounding myself in her warmth. "You're so small."
"I'm sturdy," she said, her fingers combing through my hair, scratching lightly at my scalp. The sensation sent waves of calm through my nervous system. The Wolf sighed, curling up at her feet.
We stayed like that for a long time. Me sitting on the table, clutching her like a lifeline. Her standing in the circle of my arms, petting me like I was something precious instead of something dangerous.
It wasn't sexual. It was intimate in a way that terrified me more than the library ever could.
This was the danger Elias had warned me about.
If I let myself need this... if I let myself need her peace to quiet my storm... then losing her wouldn't just hurt.
It would kill me.
"I can't stay away from you," I mumbled into her sweater.
"I know," she whispered.
"This is going to end badly."
"Maybe," she said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of my head. "But maybe it won't. Maybe we rewrite the ending."
I closed my eyes, inhaling her scent.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to believe in fairy tales. I wanted to believe that the beast didn't have to destroy the beauty.
But as I held her, listening to the steady rhythm of her human heart, I couldn't shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.
My father was coming for the championship.
And if he saw her... if he saw the way I looked at her...
I tightened my grip.
Let him come, the Wolf snarled silently. Let him try to take her.
I wasn't my father. I wouldn't break her.
But I would break anyone who tried to touch her.