Chapter 16
Oakley
The office of the Dean of Students was designed to intimidate. It was all dark mahogany, high ceilings, and portraits of dead men who stared down at you with judgment in their painted eyes.
I sat in a leather chair that felt too small for me, my hands clenched on my thighs to stop them from shaking.
Across the desk sat Dean Miller. To my right sat Coach Varon, looking like he’d aged ten years in the last hour. And standing by the window, silhouetted against the night sky, was my father.
Elias Thorne didn't look angry. He looked bored. He checked his watch, adjusted his cufflinks, and treated the meeting like a minor inconvenience in his schedule. Beside him stood Vance, the family lawyer, holding a tablet with the damning photo frozen on the screen.
"Mr. Thorne," Dean Miller said, adjusting his glasses.
"The allegations are serious. Fraternization between a student athlete and a member of the clinical staff is a violation of the University Code of Conduct.
Specifically, Section 4, Paragraph B regarding conflicts of interest and exploitation of power dynamics. "
"My son did not exploit anyone," Elias said smoothly, not turning from the window. "If anything, he was the target. Young athletes are often... pursued."
I flinched. The lie tasted like acid. "She didn't pursue me. I pursued her."
"Quiet, Oakley," Elias commanded.
"The issue," the Dean continued, ignoring the interruption, "is the integrity of the Kinesiology program.
Miss Sommers is a scholarship student. Her placement is contingent on professional conduct.
If this photo represents a romantic relationship, she is in breach of her contract.
We would have no choice but to terminate her rotation and revoke her scholarship effective immediately. "
The words hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
Revoke her scholarship.
It meant expulsion. It meant sending her back to Ohio with nothing but debt and a broken dream. It meant her father watching her fail just like he had failed.
I couldn't let that happen.
"There is another option," Vance interjected, stepping forward. "Mr. Thorne is prepared to make a statement clarifying the context of the photograph. It was a moment of emotional distress. A misunderstanding. There is no relationship."
The Dean looked at me. "Is that true, Oakley? Is there a relationship?"
I looked at Varon. He wouldn't meet my eyes. He was studying his shoes, ashamed of what was happening but powerless to stop it. The Thorne money built this arena. The Thorne money paid his salary.
I looked at my father. He turned slowly, fixing me with those cold, amber eyes. The message was clear. Say the words. Save the girl. Break your heart.
"Oakley?" the Dean pressed.
I swallowed hard. My throat felt like it was full of glass.
"No," I whispered. "There is no relationship."
"I can't hear you, son," Elias said softly.
"No," I said, louder this time, my voice cracking. "We aren't together. She was just... comforting me. My shoulder was out. I was in pain. It was a mistake."
The Dean let out a sigh of relief. He didn't want a scandal. He wanted an easy out.
"Very well," the Dean said. "If you are willing to sign a statement to that effect, and if Miss Sommers corroborates it, we can consider the matter closed.
However..." He paused, looking stern. "For the sake of propriety, Miss Sommers will be reassigned.
She will no longer work with the Hockey team.
She will complete her rotation with the swim team. "
"Fine," I said quickly. "Whatever keeps her safe."
"And," Elias added, "Oakley will be transferring at the end of the semester. To remove any further... temptation."
My head snapped up. "That wasn't part of the deal."
"It is now," Elias said, his voice steel. "You finish the season. You win the championship. And then you leave. You start fresh in Detroit. Without distractions."
I stared at him. The hate I felt in that moment was a living thing, dark and coiling in my gut.
"Fine," I spat. "Just leave her alone."
"Done," Elias said. He nodded to Vance. "Draw up the papers."
Walking out of that building felt like walking to my own execution.
The campus was dark and quiet. Snow was falling again, soft flakes that hissed as they hit the pavement.
I had to go to her. I had to tell her what I had done.
I pulled out my phone.
Me: Meet me. The Bridge. 20 minutes.
The bridge over the river was neutral ground. It was public, but quiet at this hour.
I walked. I didn't drive. I needed the cold air to numb me. I needed the walk to rehearse the lies I was about to tell.
I never loved you.
You were a distraction.
This was a mistake.
Every step was a betrayal. Every breath was a lie.
I remembered the cabin. The firelight. The way she had looked at me when she said I choose you.
I was about to take that choice away from her. I was about to prove that her faith in me was misplaced. I was about to prove that I was exactly what I feared—my father's son.
Faye was waiting for me on the bridge.
She was bundled in her heavy coat, a scarf wrapped around her face, her Sorel boots stamping in the snow to keep warm.
When she saw me, she didn't run to me. She stood still, watching me approach. Her eyes were wide, fearful, but hopeful.
She thought I was coming to save us.
I stopped five feet away from her. I couldn't get closer. If I smelled her vanilla scent, if I felt her warmth, I would break.
"Oakley," she breathed, her voice muffled by the scarf. "What happened? Did you see the Dean?"
"I saw him," I said. My voice was flat. Dead.
"And?" She took a step forward. "Did you fix it?"
"I fixed it," I said. "You're safe. You keep your scholarship. You get reassigned to the swim team."
She let out a sob of relief, her shoulders sagging. "Oh, thank God. I was so scared. I thought... I thought it was over."
She reached for me.
I stepped back.
Her hand dropped to her side. She froze. The confusion in her eyes was worse than the fear.
"Oakley?"
"You're safe," I repeated. "But we're done."
She blinked. "What?"
"The deal," I said, reciting the script I had burned into my brain. "To save your scholarship, I had to sign a statement. I had to say there was no relationship. I had to say it was a mistake."
"Okay," she nodded slowly. "That makes sense. It's a lie to protect us. We can still—"
"No," I interrupted harshly. "It wasn't a lie, Faye."
She went still. The wind whipped her hair across her face, but she didn't move to brush it away. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying it was a mistake," I said. I forced myself to look her in the eye. I forced myself to channel the cold, detached arrogance of the Captain. "All of it. The tutoring. The secret meetings. The cabin."
"You don't mean that," she whispered. "You're scared. Your dad got to you."
"My dad reminded me of who I am," I corrected. "I'm a Thorne. I have a draft to prepare for. I have a legacy to protect. And you..." I gestured to her, a dismissive wave of my hand. "You were a distraction. A fun one. But a distraction."
"Distraction?" Her voice broke. "Last week you said I was your anchor. You said you loved me."
"I said what I needed to say to get what I wanted," I lied. The words felt like razor blades in my mouth. "I needed to pass Ethics. I needed to blow off steam. You were convenient."
She flinched as if I had slapped her. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over onto her cheeks. They froze almost instantly in the cold air.
"You're lying," she choked out. "I know you, Oakley. I know your heart. You aren't this cruel."
"You don't know me," I growled. "You know the version of me I let you see. The sad boy with the tragic backstory. But that's not real, Faye. This is real. The money. The power. The game. That's who I am."
I took a step closer, looming over her, using my size to intimidate her for the first time since we met.
"Look at us," I said, gesturing between us. "Did you really think this was going to last? You're a human scholarship student from nowhere. I'm a Shifter heir. We aren't in the same galaxy, let alone the same world. It was a fantasy. And now it's over."
She stared at me. Her face was pale, stricken. The light in her eyes—the hope, the love—was dying. I was killing it.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "Just tell me the truth. Is he forcing you?"
"Nobody forces me to do anything," I snapped. "I'm choosing this. I'm choosing my future. Without you."
She looked down at her boots. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold her shattered pieces together.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay?"
"If that's what you want," she said, looking up. Her eyes were dull now. Empty. "If I was just a distraction... then go. Go be a Thorne. Go be the monster you're so afraid of."
"I intend to," I said.
"But know this," she added, her voice gaining a sudden, fierce strength. "You're a coward, Oakley. Not because you're leaving. But because you're lying. I know you loved me. And you're throwing it away because you're too scared to fight for it."
She turned around.
She didn't look back. She walked away, her boots crunching in the snow, her small figure retreating into the darkness of the campus.
I watched her go.
I stood on the bridge until I couldn't see her anymore. Until the cold had seeped through my coat and into my bones.
Only then did I let the mask drop.
I collapsed.
I sank to my knees on the frozen metal grate of the bridge, gripping the railing until my knuckles bled. I gasped for air, but my lungs wouldn't work. I was drowning.
I had done it. I had saved her.
She hated me. She would move on. She would finish her degree. She would be safe.
But as I knelt there in the snow, sobbing dry, silent tears, I knew the truth.
I hadn't just broken her heart. I had ripped out my own.
And without it, I wasn't a man anymore. I was just a hollow shell, waiting for the draft to sell me to the highest bidder.
The monster hadn't won. The monster was the only thing left.