Chapter 11 #2
"He would have tried," I grinned, the rush of the near-miss pumping through my veins. "But it would have been worth it."
I leaned in and kissed her again—hard, fast, and triumphant.
"I have to go to practice," I said reluctantly, pulling back. "But tonight? The truck? The overlook?"
"8:00," she promised. "I'll bring the snacks."
"You are the snack," I growled, swatting her ass as I lifted her off the bench.
She swatted me back. "Go play hockey, Wolf."
I unlocked the door and checked the hallway. Clear.
I walked out, feeling like I was walking on air.
The high lasted until Friday.
Friday was Game Day prep. The team was in the locker room, taping sticks, stretching, talking trash. The energy was high.
I sat in my stall, taping the blade of my stick with meticulous precision. Heel to toe. Black tape. No wrinkles. It was a ritual.
"Thorne."
I looked up. Jax was standing over me. He wasn't smiling.
"Hey, Riot," I said, not pausing my taping. "Ready to get checked into oblivion again?"
"We need to talk," Jax said. His voice was low, devoid of its usual humor.
I stopped taping. I looked at him. Really looked at him.
Jax looked... worried. And disappointed.
"What's up?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.
Jax sat down on the bench next to me, leaning close so the others couldn't hear.
"You smell like her," he said.
My stomach dropped. "Who?"
"Don't insult my intelligence, Oak," Jax snapped quietly. "You smell like Faye. You smell like her all the time. And not just 'she taped my ankle' smell. You smell like... intimacy. Like you've been rolling around in her scent."
I gripped my stick, the wood creaking. "Jax..."
"And she smells like you," he continued relentless. "I passed her in the hall this morning. She was wearing a scarf, but underneath it? Pure Alpha pheromones. Your pheromones."
He looked at me, his blue eyes searching mine.
"Did you claim her?" he asked.
The question was heavy. In shifter culture, claiming wasn't just dating. It was a life sentence.
I looked at my best friend. I could lie. I could tell him it was just a fling. I could tell him he was imagining things.
But lying to my Beta felt wrong. It felt like a betrayal of the pack bond.
"I didn't knot her," I whispered. "But... we're together."
Jax let out a long breath, running a hand over his face. "Fuck, Oak. Does Varon know?"
"No."
"Does your dad know?"
"Hell no."
"You are playing a dangerous game," Jax hissed. "If the Council finds out you're mating with a human before you take your seat... they'll challenge you. They'll say you're weak. They'll say you're compromised."
"I don't care about the Council," I said fiercely. "I care about her."
"Does she know that?" Jax asked. "Does she know what she's signing up for? Being the mate of a Thorne isn't a fairy tale, man. It's a target on her back."
"I'm protecting her."
"By hiding her in broom closets?" Jax shook his head. "That's not protection, Oak. That's stalling."
Before I could respond, the locker room door banged open.
Coach Varon marched in, looking grim. He was holding a clipboard, and he wasn't alone.
Behind him walked a man in a sharp suit. Not a scout. A lawyer.
My blood ran cold. I recognized the crest on his lapel pin.
The Thorne Family Crest.
The room went silent.
"Thorne," Varon barked. "My office. Now."
I stood up slowly. My knees felt stiff.
Jax looked at me, his eyes wide. "Oak..."
"Cover for me," I whispered.
I walked toward the office, passing the lawyer. The man didn't look at me. He just checked something on his phone.
I walked into Varon's office.
Varon sat behind his desk. He looked tired.
"Close the door," he said.
I closed it. "Coach? What's going on?"
"That man outside," Varon said, gesturing to the glass wall. "Is Mr. Vance. Your father's personal attorney."
"I know who he is," I said, my voice tight. "Why is he here?"
"He's here to deliver a message," Varon said. He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and slid it across to me.
It was a legal document. A transfer request.
"Your father wants you to transfer," Varon said heavily. "To Breakwater University. In British Columbia. Immediately."
"What?" I stared at the paper. "Why? We're winning. I'm the Captain."
"He says the 'environment' here is no longer conducive to your development," Varon said, watching me closely. "He says there are... distractions."
My heart stopped.
Distractions.
He knew.
Somehow, he knew.
"I'm not going," I said, crumpling the paper in my fist. "I'm not leaving."
"He's threatening to pull the funding for the new arena if you stay," Varon said. "He's threatening to sue the university for breach of contract regarding your development."
"Let him sue," I snarled. "I am an adult. I make my own choices."
"Do you?" Varon asked softly. "Oakley, look at me."
I looked at the old coach.
"I don't know what you've gotten yourself into," Varon said. "But if it's what I think it is... you need to be very, very careful. Elias Thorne doesn't make empty threats. If he wants you moved, he will burn this school down to do it."
"He can try," I said, turning to the door.
"Oakley," Varon called out.
I stopped, hand on the doorknob.
"If you stay," Varon said, "you better win. You better win the Championship. Because if you lose... if you prove him right that you're distracted... there won't be anything I can do to save you."
"I won't lose," I promised.
I walked out of the office, past the lawyer, past Jax, and straight out the back door of the arena.
I needed air. I needed to think.
My father knew. He was making his move.
And I had to figure out how to fight a war on two fronts without the girl I loved getting caught in the crossfire.