Chapter 12 The price of the crown
Chapter 12: The Price of the Crown (Liam’s POV)
The locker room was a tomb of cold metal and the suffocating smell of stale sweat. I sat on the wooden bench, my head in my hands, listening to the locker room door hiss shut as Jax and the rest of the guys finally left.
The silence was worse than the shouting. In the silence, I could still hear the sound of Elena’s sneakers squeaking on the ice. I could still see the way she looked at me from the frozen floor—eyes wide, face pale, looking at me like I was a stranger.
"I had to do it," I whispered to the empty room. My voice sounded hollow, like it belonged to someone else.
If I hadn't let Jax humiliate her, the team would have revolted. I’d have lost the captaincy by morning. My father would have seen the weakness. I was protecting the plan. I was protecting my future.
But you let him drag her, a voice in the back of my head hissed. You let him treat her like a piece of equipment.
I slammed my fist against the locker. The metal boomed, the sound echoing off the tile walls. I didn't feel like a King. I felt like a coward hiding behind a jersey.
I grabbed my bag and headed out to the parking lot. The rain had turned into a misty drizzle, blurring the streetlights. I got into the Porsche and sat there for a second, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
I saw her.
Elena was standing at the edge of the parking lot, near the bus stop. She was a small, dark shadow against the grey night. She was shivering so hard I could see it from fifty yards away. She looked broken, but she wasn't crying. She never cried. That was the thing about Elena—she was made of something much harder than the rest of us.
I started the engine. I was going to drive over there. I was going to apologize. I was going to tell her that it was all an act, that I had to let Jax do it to keep him quiet.
But then I saw a car pull up to her. It wasn't the bus. It was Chloe’s black SUV.
I watched through the windshield as the window rolled down. I saw Chloe say something, her face twisted in that fake, sweet smile she used right before she bit someone's head off. Then, I saw her toss something out the window. A small, black object.
Elena picked it up.
My heart dropped into my stomach. I knew what that was. It was the digital recorder I kept in my locker for "tactical notes" during hockey season. But I also knew what was on it. Jax had been in my ear for weeks about a "bet." He’d kept pushing me to see if I could break the Ghost, to see if I could make her fall for me just to win a stupid pot of money.
I had laughed. I had played along. I had said things into that recorder during a party that I didn't mean—things about her being a "project" and a "game."
If she listened to that... it was over. Truly over.
I put the car in gear and peeled out of the parking lot, heading straight for the estate. I didn't stop to talk to her. I couldn't look her in the eye. Not now.
By the time I reached the mansion, my head was spinning. I went straight to the kitchen, needing a drink, but my father was standing there, his back to me, staring out the window at the guest cottage.
"She’s still there," he said, not turning around.
"I know," I muttered, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
"The board meeting is at ten tomorrow morning, Liam. The 'Confessions' page has gone viral. Half the parents are calling for her scholarship to be revoked because they think she’s a 'distraction' to the varsity athletes." He finally turned, his eyes cold and sharp. "I told them I’d handle it. But if that girl says one word about that money being a bribe, we’re both finished."
"She won't," I said.
"How do you know? You just watched your teammates treat her like a dog at the rink. I saw the security footage, Liam. I saw you stand there." My father stepped closer, his presence looming over me. "I taught you to be a leader, not a spectator. If you're going to break someone, finish the job. If you're going to protect them, do it right. This middle ground you're walking? It’s going to get us killed."
"I have it under control, Dad," I snapped, heading for the stairs.
I went to my room and locked the door. I threw my bag across the floor and paced the length of the silk rug. I felt like a trapped animal.
I looked out my balcony window. From here, I could see the light on in the cottage. The "Ghost" was awake. Was she listening to the recording? Was she sitting there, hearing me call her a "small price for a win"?
The thought made me feel sick.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I had forty-two missed texts. Most were from the team, laughing about the rink. One was from Chloe: 'She has the tape, Liam. Don't worry, I did the dirty work for you. You're welcome.'
I deleted the message. I wanted to throw the phone through the window.
Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to see her. I needed to know if she’d heard it. I needed to see if there was anything left to save, or if I had truly burned the bridge to the ground.
I headed down the back stairs, slipping out into the rain. I didn't take an umbrella. I walked across the wet grass, my heart thudding in my ears.
I reached the porch of the cottage and stopped. The door was slightly ajar.
"Elena?" I whispered.
There was no answer. I pushed the door open.
The cottage was empty. Not "no one is here" empty, but empty. The few boxes they had were gone. The bed was stripped. The lavender scent was fading, replaced by the smell of cold rain.
They were gone.
I stood in the middle of the small room, the silence crashing down on me. She had left. She had actually left. She’d taken the money and vanished into the night, probably to save her mother from the shame I’d heaped on them.
I saw something on the small wooden table. It was the digital recorder.
I walked over and picked it up. There was a sticky note attached to it. In Elena’s neat, sharp handwriting, it said:
'You were right, Liam. The thirty thousand was a small price to pay. But you didn't win the bet. You just proved that you're exactly what I thought you were from the start. Nothing.'
I pressed the play button on the recorder. My own voice filled the room, laughing, talking about how easy she was to manipulate. I sounded like a stranger. I sounded like the monster she’d seen all along.
I dropped the recorder. It hit the floor with a plastic thud, the sound echoing in the empty shed.
She was gone, and she’d taken my only chance at being a better person with her. I looked around the room—the room I’d let Jax mock, the room I’d looked down on—and for the first time in my life, I realized that I was the one who was poor.
I walked out onto the porch and looked up at the main house. The lights were on in my father’s study. The board meeting was tomorrow. The scholarship was on the line. And the only person who could save the Vance name was currently miles away, hating me with every breath in her body.
I heard a car door slam at the end of the driveway. I ran toward the gate, thinking—hoping—it was her coming back. But it wasn't Elena. It was a police cruiser, its blue and red lights off but its presence terrifying. An officer stepped out, holding a folder. 'Liam Vance? We need to speak with you regarding a hit-and-run report involving a black SUV and a pedestrian on the highway tonight.' My heart stopped. Chloe.