Chapter 86 Garrett
Garrett
“No,” I snarled, the word ripped from my throat. I didn't dare move, couldn't move, strapped to the chair as I was. I just twisted my torso, a futile, angry attempt to get away from his touch. My body was shaking, a tremor starting deep in my bones, a rage so pure it burned away everything but the need to win.
I looked down at myself, at my undeniable arousal, then squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears.
“No,” I repeated, my voice a raw, desperate mantra. “I feel nothing. I feel nothing.” I forced the words out, each one a hammer blow against the memory of his touch. “I’m focused on my studies. My work. My friends. My girlfriend…!”
The name Trisha was a lifeline. I grabbed onto it. I pictured her face, her smile, the way she laughed. Not because I felt anything for her but because she was safety.
I thought of my chemistry textbook, the familiar weight of it in my hands, the neat rows of equations that always made sense. I thought of Aitor, none of the recent crap, but just him, my friend, the safety of his presence, the easy comfort of our conversations. School. Practice. My future. Anything but this. Anything but him.
The thoughts were a balm. A shield. The lies, the hurt, the goddamn pressure of Graves’s hands on me—it all started to recede, replaced by the solid, safe ground of my own life. A sense of peace, fragile but real, settled over me. I wasn't here. I was in my dorm room. I was in class. I was anywhere but in this chair with this monster.
A soft, rhythmic beeping started, pulling me back. I opened my eyes. The frantic, spiking red line on the monitor was falling. It trembled, fighting the last vestiges of adrenaline, but I pushed it down with every safe, peaceful thought I could muster. I watched it, my breath held tight in my chest, as it slowly, agonizingly, flattened back into a steady, controlled green.
Doctor Graves stepped back with a proud smile.
The machine was silent. I was clean.
I slumped in the chair, every muscle suddenly gone limp. I was panting, exhausted down to my very soul, but I had done it. I had won.
He’d passed my evaluation.
“Congratulations,” Graves had said, followed by a condescending pat on the back that made my skin crawl. He reminded me to keep journaling through winter break—every thought, every impulse—before wishing me a merry Christmas like any of this was fucking normal.
I walked out of there in silence.
By the time I got to my car, my hands were shaking so badly I had to sit there for a minute before turning the key. Then I drove.
Fast.
Too fast.
I needed to get away. My skin burned from his touch. Like it happened before. This wasn't the first time, and it was surely not the worst one.
I had spent years of my life trying to forget his touch, his scent, his…
Tears blurred my vision, mixing with something that sounded a lot like laughter. I couldn’t even tell the difference anymore.
I was back on track.
On paper, at least.
One follow-up a month. That was all it would take now—as long as I stayed “out of trouble” and kept documenting every goddamn thought that crossed my mind like I wasn’t already trapped inside my own head.
I’d told my mother I couldn’t make it that day. Finals. Training. She hadn’t objected. She’d simply reminded me that she’d be there on Tuesday for my riding evaluation.
Of course she would.
I pushed the car harder.
I needed to be back in my room, in my space. Away from Spring Creek—from the room, the machine, the voice in my ear. I needed to shower the filth of Graves off my skin, off my head, off my fucking soul.
I needed something real. Something that proved I wasn’t broken yet.
I almost drowned under that shower, scrubbing his fingerprints off my skin.
When I finally stepped out, I felt… empty.
Cleaner.
But not clean enough.
I lay on my bed for a while after that, staring at the ceiling, trying to slow my breathing back to something normal.
Olivia called, and I let it ring once before picking up.
She was beyond excited to hear the news.
“Okay, Garr,” she said without preamble, “now that you’re not hooked to that fucking machine, we can actually work around it.”
I let out a dry laugh. “You mean we can lie again.”
“Exactly,” she said, unfazed. “But if we’re gonna lie to Mom and that asshole, we need allies. And that means there are some people we can’t lie to. Remember?”
I closed my eyes, already knowing where she was going.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I know. I’ve gotta tell the truth to Trisha.”
“The idea,” Olivia continued, her tone turning sharper, more strategic, “is to give her an incentive to lie for you. Publicly, you two are the perfect couple. Behind the scenes, you do whatever the hell you want. So… how are you planning to pull that off?”
I huffed a quiet breath, staring at the ceiling.
“Trisha’s not in love with me,” I said flatly. “Shocking, I know. She likes the attention. The popularity of dating Garrett William. The glamour. The freedom from her family who had kinda pre-blessed anything tied to ‘the William heir.’ Plus of course, she loves the trips. The lifestyle. All that shit.”
I paused, then added, almost casually, “She also likes to play around. At least she did the day we broke up.”
Olivia didn’t miss a beat. “So if she gets all of that guaranteed… and the freedom to do whatever she wants?”
“She’ll agree,” I finished.
“Perfect,” Olivia said. “That’s your cover.”
Silence stretched for a second after that. Because as simple as that part sounded…
I wasn’t so sure Aslan would be as easy to pull into this mess.
But all in due time.
By the time we hung up, I almost felt human again.
Almost.
I texted Aitor, thinking maybe I could anchor myself there—something easy, predictable—but he had plans that evening.
Not exactly a mystery who with. Still, in his defense, he’d given us our legendary bros night just yesterday, so… yeah.
I texted Trisha instead. Set something up for later.
Checked another box.
Then I grabbed my jacket and headed out to the riding arena. If nothing else, I could burn it out of my system.
I took a couple laps around the school to warm up my muscles before I headed to my practice, muscles sore, lungs tight, mind still not quite steady.
That was when I saw him… And every “captive” thought I’d fought that morning came rushing back all at once, hitting me harder than anything Graves had thrown at me in that room.
My first instinct was to keep going.
Walk past him.
Ignore it.
Ignore him.
But I didn’t.
Today's been a win, and even though I was obviously not gonna throw myself to him before all else was in place, I was one step away from putting Olivia’s plan into motion. One step away from pursuing what I really wanted.
And what I wanted was him.
So, I could afford a couple of steps forward.
Just a couple.
But first…
I needed to test the waters.
I needed to know—
if my lion still belonged to me.