Chapter 16
Rory
The sound of my own footsteps echoing on the linoleum floor of the administration building was the only thing keeping me upright.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
I focused on the rhythm. If I focused on the rhythm, I wouldn't have to think about what I had just done. I wouldn't have to think about the look on Zoe’s face when I walked out the door. The sound of her scream.
“Rory, please!”
It was a sound that would haunt me until they put me in the ground.
I walked out of the building into the blinding white of the snow-covered quad. The cold air hit me like a slap, freezing the tears I refused to let fall.
Two campus security guards were waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. They looked nervous. They knew who I was. They knew what I was.
"Mr. Thorne," the older one said, his hand resting on his taser. "We're to escort you to your residence to collect your belongings. You have one hour to vacate campus property."
"I know the drill," I rasped. My voice sounded like gravel. Dead gravel.
"We have orders to ensure you don't make contact with... anyone," the guard added, glancing nervously at the windows of the building I had just left.
"Don't worry," I said, staring at the gray sky. "I’m done."
I got into the back of their patrol car. It smelled of stale coffee and fear.
As we drove toward the Hive, I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
My screen was flooded with notifications. Texts from Jax. Texts from teammates. The video was everywhere. Tyler had done his job well.
I ignored them all. I opened my contacts. I scrolled to the one name that mattered.
Zoe.
My thumb hovered over the delete button.
If I kept her number, I would use it. Late at night, when the silence got too loud, I would call her. I would text her. I would drag her back into my mess.
The anchor has to cut the line.
I pressed delete.
Then I blocked the number.
It felt like cutting off my own hand.
The duplex was quiet.
The guards stood on the porch, watching me through the open door as I packed. They didn't come inside. They claimed it was protocol. I knew it was because they didn't want to be in an enclosed space with a shifter who had just been publicly outed as violent.
I grabbed my duffel bag.
I didn't pack everything. I didn't have room. I packed clothes. My skates. The picture of my mom.
I stood in the middle of the living room, looking around.
This place had been a cave. A prison.
Then, for a few short weeks, it had been a home.
I looked at the couch where she had massaged my back. I looked at the kitchen counter where I had first claimed her. I looked at the bedroom door.
I walked into the bedroom.
The bed was unmade. The sheets still smelled like her. Vanilla. Sex. Love.
I grabbed the pillow she had slept on. I buried my face in it, inhaling deeply one last time.
The Wolf howled in my head—a sound of pure, unadulterated grief. Mate. Lost. Mate. Gone.
"Shut up," I whispered to the beast. "We did this to save her."
You did this, the Wolf accused. You were weak. You let him threaten us.
"I let him threaten her," I corrected. "And I won't let her go down for my mistakes."
I dropped the pillow.
I walked to the closet. My jerseys hung there.
I grabbed my away jersey—the white one. I left the blue one—the one she had worn.
I couldn't take it. If I took it, I would stare at it every day. I would torture myself.
"Mr. Thorne?" the guard called from the porch. "Ten minutes."
"I’m coming."
I zipped the bag.
I walked out of the bedroom. I didn't look back.
As I passed the kitchen, I saw something on the counter.
A textbook. Biomechanics of Human Movement.
She had left it here after our last study session.
I picked it up. I opened it.
On the inside cover, in her neat, looping handwriting, was a note.
To the strongest lever arm I know. Thanks for the lift. - Z
I closed the book. I shoved it into my bag.
It was the only piece of her I was allowing myself to keep.
I walked out to my truck.
Jax was standing there.
He was leaning against the hood of my truck, his arms crossed, his face grim. The guards moved to intercept him, but I waved them off.
"He’s my ride," I lied. "My truck has a flat."
The guards hesitated, then nodded. They retreated to their car to watch.
Jax looked at me. He looked at the bag. He looked at my face.
"You're running," he stated flatly.
"I’m leaving," I corrected. "There’s a difference."
"Is there? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you're letting Tyler and the Dean win."
"Tyler has a video of me assaulting him, Jax. The Dean has photos of me with his daughter. If I stay, I go to jail. And Zoe gets expelled."
Jax’s eyes widened. "Photos?"
"Yeah. We got sloppy. Tyler was tracking us."
Jax swore, kicking the tire of my truck. "I told you. I told you to be careful."
"I know. You were right. I was an idiot." I threw my bag into the bed of the truck. "Now I’m paying the price."
"So where are you going?"
"North. Back to the cabin. The old one."
"The murder cabin?" Jax looked horrified. "Rory, no. That place is… it’s cursed."
"It’s empty," I said. "And it’s far away from here. That’s all I need."
"What about hockey? What about Detroit?"
"Detroit doesn't want a liability. The Dean is going to bury the video if I leave quietly. My record stays clean. Maybe… maybe next year, I try out for a beer league. Or I just chop wood for the rest of my life."
"You're the best defenseman in the league," Jax argued. "You can't just quit."
"Watch me."
I opened the driver's door.
"Rory," Jax said, grabbing the door frame. "What about Zoe?"
I froze.
"She loves you, man. I saw her face in the tunnel. She’s not going to just let you go."
"She has to," I said, my voice hollow. "I broke it off. I told her I was leaving. I made sure she hates me."
"You think she hates you?" Jax shook his head. "She’s a skater, Rory. She knows about falling. She’ll get back up. And she’ll come for you."
"If she comes for me," I said, looking Jax dead in the eye, "you tell her I’m gone. You tell her I met someone else. You tell her whatever you have to tell her to keep her here. She has Nationals in three days. She needs to win. If she comes looking for me, she loses everything."
Jax stared at me. He saw the desperation in my eyes. He saw the absolute ruin of my soul.
"Okay," he whispered. "I’ll handle it."
"Take care of her, Jax. Please. Watch her back. Make sure she eats. Make sure she doesn't… make sure she doesn't break."
"I will."
I got in the truck. I started the engine.
I didn't look at the duplex. I didn't look at Unit 4B.
I put it in gear and drove away.
I drove past the arena. Past the library. Past the spot where we had kissed in the snow.
I drove out of Northridge.
I didn't stop until I hit the highway.
And then, I screamed.
It wasn't a word. It wasn't a howl. It was just a sound of pure agony. I screamed until my throat bled. I hit the steering wheel until my hands bruised.
I had done the right thing. I had saved her.
So why did it feel like I had just died?
Zoe
I didn't scream.
Screaming required air. And I didn't have any.
I sat on the floor of the Dean’s office for ten minutes after Rory left. My father ignored me. He made phone calls. He signed papers. He acted like I wasn't there.
Eventually, Coach Gantry walked over. He looked uncomfortable.
"Zoe," he said gruffly. "You need to go."
I looked up at him. "He didn't mean to hurt anyone."
"He hurt everyone," Gantry said. "He put the team at risk. He put you at risk. Go home, Zoe. Focus on skating. It’s over."
I stood up. My legs felt like wood.
I walked out of the office.
I walked back to the dorm. I didn't feel the cold. I didn't feel the snow. I felt numb.
I got to my room. Mia wasn't there.
I sat on my bed. I stared at the wall.
My phone buzzed.
Mia: Where are you? Everyone is talking about the video. Is it true? Did Rory attack Tyler?
I didn't answer.
I looked at my phone. I dialed Rory’s number.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"The number you have dialed is not accepting calls."
He had blocked me.
He had actually done it. He had cut the line.
The numbness shattered.
Pain rushed in like a floodwater. It was physical. It burned in my chest, my stomach, my throat.
I curled into a ball on the bed, clutching my stomach.
"You promised," I sobbed into the mattress. "You promised you wouldn't let me float away."
But I was floating. I was untethered. And the storm was swallowing me whole.
Two Days Later. Monday.
I was a ghost.
I went to practice. I skated. I fell. I got up. I skated again.
Sergei didn't yell at me. He looked at me with pity. That was worse.
"Zoe," he said gently after I botched a spin. "Go home. Rest. Nationals is Wednesday. You are skating on fumes."
"I’m fine," I said robotically.
"You are not fine. You look like a corpse."
"I’m focusing," I snapped. "Isn't that what everyone wanted? No distractions? No boyfriends? Just skating?"
I spun away from him.
I couldn't go home. If I went home, I had to think.
I stayed at the rink until they turned the lights off.
I walked out to the parking lot.
My car was covered in snow. I brushed it off.
As I was scraping the windshield, a shadow fell over me.
I jumped, turning around with my scraper raised like a weapon.
It was Tyler.
He was grinning. He had a brace on his neck—mostly for show, I suspected.
"Whoa, easy there, killer," he laughed. "Just came to wish you luck at Nationals."
I stared at him. The hate that flared in my chest was so intense it scared me.
"Get away from me," I hissed.
"Just being neighborly," Tyler said, leaning against the car next to mine. "Heard about Thorne. Tough break. Expelled, huh? Guess the mutt finally got put down."
"Shut up."
"You know, I did you a favor," Tyler said, his voice dropping. "You were slumming it, Z. You're royalty. You don't belong with a beast like that. You belong with someone… civilized."
He took a step toward me.
"Like me."
The audacity was breathtaking.
"You ruined his life," I whispered. "You blackmailed us. You provoked him."
"I exposed him," Tyler corrected. "I showed everyone what he really is. A violent animal. And now he’s gone. Back to the woods where he belongs."
He reached out to touch my arm.
"Don't touch me," I said.
"Come on, Z. You're lonely. I can—"
SNAP.
I didn't think. I swung the ice scraper.
It connected with his shin. Hard.
"OW! Fuck!" Tyler hopped back, clutching his leg. "You crazy bitch!"
"I am crazy!" I shouted, stepping toward him. "I am furious! And if you ever come near me again, I won't hit your leg. I’ll aim for your head!"
Tyler looked at me. He saw the look in my eyes. It was the same look Rory had given him.
He backed away. "You're perfect for each other," he spat. "Both psychos."
He limped away.
I stood there in the dark parking lot, gripping the scraper.
I wasn't crying. I was shaking with rage.
I got in my car.
I didn't drive to the dorms.
I drove to the Hive.
I knew he was gone. I knew the locks had been changed. But I had to see it.
I parked in the driveway.
Unit 4A was dark. Empty.
I walked up to the porch. I put my hand on the door.
It was cold. No vibration. No life.
I sat on the steps.
It started to snow.
I sat there for an hour, letting the snow cover me.
I thought about the cabin he had promised. The future. The kids on the backyard rink.
It was all gone.
But as I sat there, freezing, something occurred to me.
Rory had left to save me. To save my skating. To save my future.
If I quit now… if I let the grief consume me… then his sacrifice meant nothing.
If I failed at Nationals, Tyler won. My father won.
I stood up. I brushed the snow off my pants.
I touched the wolf tooth necklace hidden under my sweater. I hadn't taken it off.
"You think you can cut the line?" I whispered to the empty house. "You think you can decide for me?"
I walked back to my car.
"Watch me," I said.
I was going to win Nationals. I was going to take the gold. I was going to take the money.
And then?
Then I was going to find him.
And I was going to drag him home, whether he liked it or not.
The Night Before Nationals. Tuesday.
I was packing my bag. My skates. My costume—a midnight blue dress with silver crystals.
Mia was sitting on her bed, watching me.
"You haven't eaten in two days," she said.
"I’m cutting weight," I lied.
"You're starving yourself because you're sad."
"I’m not sad, Mia. I’m focused."
"Zoe. He’s gone."
"I know."
"He blocked you."
"I know."
"You have to let him go."
I zipped my bag. I turned to look at her.
"I’m skating tomorrow," I said. "That’s all that matters."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
I lay down on my bed. I turned off the light.
I closed my eyes.
I tried to visualize my routine. The music. The jumps.
But all I could see was his face in the office. The tears in his eyes. The way he had looked at me like I was the only thing in the world, right before he walked away.
“Win Nationals, Zoe. Fly.”
I rolled over, clutching my pillow.
"I’ll fly," I whispered into the dark. "But I’m not flying solo."
I reached under my mattress.
I pulled out the textbook. Biomechanics. The one he had stolen.
Wait.
I sat up.
I had left my textbook at his place. But when the movers brought my stuff back, I had a textbook.
I turned on the lamp.
I opened the book.
It wasn't mine. It was his. His handwriting was in the margins. Messy, blocky notes.
I flipped through the pages.
A piece of paper fell out.
It was a page ripped from a notebook.
It was a drawing.
Charcoal. Rough.
It was a wolf. But not a scary wolf. It was a wolf sitting on ice, wearing skates. And next to it, a tiny figure skater.
Underneath, in his scrawl:
The storm and the anchor. Forever.
I stared at the drawing.
Tears finally came. Not the hysterical sobbing of before. Just quiet, steady tears.
He had drawn this. He had kept it. And somehow, in the chaos of packing, our books had gotten switched.
It was a sign.
"Forever," I whispered.
I folded the drawing. I put it in my skate bag, right next to my guards.
I turned off the light.
I was ready.
Tomorrow, I would win.
And then, the hunt would begin.