Chapter 18
Rory
The cabin was freezing, but I was burning up.
Zoe was asleep on the lumpy mattress in the corner, curled under every blanket we could find. She was still wearing her silver dress under the layers of wool, shivering slightly in her sleep.
I sat on the floor, watching her.
I hadn't slept. I couldn't.
She had come for me. She had thrown away her medal, her father’s money, and her future, just to find me in a murder shack in the middle of nowhere.
She had tied the line back together.
But as I watched the moonlight trace the curve of her cheek, the reality of what we had done settled in.
We were hiding. We were running.
I was twenty-two years old. I was the best defenseman in the league. I was a man who had survived a monster.
And I was letting the woman I love live in a cold cabin because I was too scared to fight for her in the daylight.
Coward, the Wolf whispered. She fought for us. What are you doing?
I stood up.
I walked to the window. The blizzard had passed. The sky was clear.
I looked at my reflection in the glass. The scar on my neck. The gold in my eyes.
Tyler had won because he used fear. The Dean had won because he used leverage.
I had leverage too.
I had the truth.
I looked at Zoe again. She muttered something in her sleep, her hand clutching the pillow.
If we stayed here, we survived.
If we went back, we lived.
I walked over to the bed. I knelt down.
"Zoe," I whispered. "Wake up."
She stirred, blinking her eyes open. They were puffy from crying. "Rory? What’s wrong?"
"Get up," I said. "We're leaving."
"Leaving? Where? It’s three in the morning."
"We're going back to Northridge."
She sat up, clutching the blanket. "What? No. Rory, we can't. My dad—"
"Your dad is a bully," I said, standing up and pulling on my boots. "And Tyler is a coward. And I’m done letting them dictate our lives."
"Rory, if we go back, you get arrested. I get disowned."
"You already got disowned," I reminded her gentle. "And I won't get arrested. Because I’m going to change the narrative."
"How?"
I grabbed my keys. I looked at her with a fierce, burning determination.
"By doing the one thing they don't think a 'monster' can do."
"What?"
"Tell the truth."
The drive back was grueling. Four hours of ice, coffee, and silence. Zoe slept for most of it, exhausted. I drove with a singular, terrifying focus.
We hit the city limits of Northridge at 7:30 AM.
"Where are we going?" Zoe asked, rubbing her eyes as we passed the familiar campus buildings.
"The Dean’s office?"
"No," I said, turning the wheel. "The arena."
"Why?"
"Because that’s where the power is."
I pulled into the parking lot. It was already full. It was Thursday morning. The team had a practice. But more importantly, there was a press conference scheduled.
I knew because Jax had texted me (before I blocked him, and the messages flooded in when I unblocked him at a gas station).
Jax: Coach is holding a presser at 8 AM to address the 'roster changes'. He’s going to throw you under the bus, Rory. He’s going to say you had a breakdown.
I parked the truck right in front of the main entrance. Illegal. I didn't care.
"Stay here," I told Zoe.
"No way," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "If you're going in there, I’m going with you."
"Zoe, it’s going to be ugly."
"I like ugly," she said, smoothing her wrinkled silver dress. She put on her parka. "Let’s go."
We walked into the arena.
The lobby was crowded with reporters, students, and staff. They were all heading toward the media room.
When they saw me, the noise stopped.
It rippled through the crowd like a wave. Thorne. He’s back.
I ignored them. I grabbed Zoe’s hand. We marched toward the media room.
A security guard stepped in front of us.
"Mr. Thorne, you are barred from—"
"Move," I growled.
It wasn't a request. I let a flash of gold bleed into my eyes. Just enough to trigger his instinct.
He moved.
I pushed open the double doors of the media room.
Coach Gantry was at the podium. The Dean was standing next to him. Flashes were going off.
"Rory Thorne’s departure is unfortunate," Coach was saying, reading from a prepared statement. "But given his personal struggles with anger management, we felt it was best for the safety of the team—"
"That’s a lie," I said.
My voice boomed through the room.
Every head turned. Cameras swiveled.
Coach Gantry froze. The Dean turned pale.
I walked down the center aisle, still holding Zoe’s hand. She walked beside me, head high, looking like a warrior queen in a parka and cocktail dress.
"Rory," Coach warned. "Don't do this."
"You wanted a statement?" I asked, stepping up to the podium. I didn't shove Coach aside; I just stood next to him. He was a big man, but I was bigger. "Here’s the statement."
I looked at the cameras. I looked at the reporters.
"My name is Rory Thorne. I am the Enforcer for the Northridge Timber Wolves."
I paused.
"And I am in love with Zoe Carmichael."
The room erupted. Whispers. Gasps.
The Dean stepped forward. "Security! Get him out of here!"
"Sit down, Dean," I said calmly. "Or I’ll play the audio."
The Dean froze.
"What audio?"
I pulled out my phone. I hadn't played this card yet. I had been saving it.
"The voicemail Tyler left me last night," I lied. "Bragging about how he set me up. How he edited the video to cut out the part where he threatened to assault Zoe."
It was a bluff. A massive, dangerous bluff. Tyler hadn't left a voicemail. But the Dean didn't know that. And Tyler, wherever he was, was a coward. He would fold.
The Dean looked at the cameras. He looked at me. He sat down.
I turned back to the mic.
"I didn't leave because of anger issues," I said. "I left because I was blackmailed. I was told that if I stayed, Zoe would be punished for my existence. I was told that loving her was a crime because of my bloodline."
I touched the scar on my neck.
"My father was a violent man," I admitted. "He hurt people. And for twelve years, I have been terrified that I was him. I let that fear control me. I let it make me run."
I looked at Zoe. She was standing in the front row now, tears streaming down her face.
"But then I met someone who wasn't afraid," I said, my voice softening. "Someone who looked at the monster and saw a man. Someone who taught me that strength isn't about hiding your scars—it’s about who you fight for."
I looked back at the cameras.
"I am not my father. I am not a danger to this team. But I am dangerous. If you come for the people I love? If you threaten my mate?"
I let the gold fill my eyes. I let the growl rumble in the mic.
"Yeah. I’ll fight. And I won't apologize for it."
Silence. Absolute silence.
"I’m done hiding," I said. "If you want to expel me, fine. If you want to cut the funding, fine. But do it because I broke a rule. Not because I loved the wrong person."
I stepped back from the podium.
I walked down the steps to Zoe.
"Did I do okay?" I whispered.
She launched herself at me. She kissed me in front of the Dean, the Coach, and every camera in Minnesota.
"You were perfect," she sobbed.
"Ahem."
We broke apart.
A man in a suit was standing there. He had been sitting in the back.
It was the scout from Detroit.
My stomach dropped. This was it. The end of the career.
"Mr. Thorne," the scout said.
"Yeah?"
"That was quite a speech."
"I meant every word."
The scout looked at me. He looked at Zoe. Then he looked at the Dean, who was currently trying to crawl under a table.
"Detroit likes passion," the scout said. "We like players who protect their own. We don't like blackmails. And we really don't like Deans who try to play GM."
He handed me a card.
"Get your bags packed, son. Development camp starts in three weeks. And bring the girl. We have excellent figure skating facilities in Michigan."
I stared at the card.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. But Thorne?"
"Yeah?"
"Maybe keep the shifting to the locker room. The PR department is going to have a stroke as it is."
He winked and walked away.
I looked at Zoe.
"Did that just happen?"
"I think we just won," she whispered.
I picked her up and spun her around, right there in the press room.
We had won.
But the game wasn't over. We still had one more period to play.