Chapter 19 The king cage
Chapter 19: The King’s Cage (Liam’s POV)
The leather seat of my father’s SUV felt like a throne of thorns. I sat in the back, staring out the tinted window as the gates of the Vance estate swung open. Beside me, my father, Marcus Vance, was scrolling through his tablet, the blue light casting sharp, skeletal shadows across his face.
He hadn't said a word since he picked me up from the school parking lot. The silence was worse than the shouting. It meant he was calculating.
"You’re a fool, Liam," he said, not looking up from the screen.
"I know, Dad," I muttered, my hand instinctively touching the bruise on my jaw where I’d taken a hit earlier.
"No, you don't. You think this is about a girl. You think this is about a fight with Jax." He finally turned, his eyes cold and devoid of any fatherly warmth. "This is about the Vance name. You are suspended. The Captain of the team is sitting on the bench during the most important scouting week of the year. Do you have any idea how much money I had to move to ensure the principal didn't turn that suspension into an expulsion?"
"I didn't ask you to," I said, my voice cracking.
"You don't have to ask. You are an extension of me. If you fail, I look weak." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, vibrating threat. "Listen to me very carefully. You will do whatever it takes to stay under the radar. No more fights. No more outbursts. You will apologize to Jax. You will apologize to the Millers. If I hear one more whisper of you causing trouble, I won't just take the car. I’ll send you to that academy in Switzerland before the sun comes up. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir."
He leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the empty seat beside me. Usually, the "Ghost" would be sitting there, huddled against the door, trying to make herself invisible while we drove back to the cottage.
"Where is she?" my father asked. "Where is the scholarship girl? Why isn't she in the car?"
I felt a bead of sweat roll down my neck. I couldn't tell him I’d left her at the gym. I couldn't tell him I’d visited her apartment in the middle of the night.
"She... she went to stay with her sick mother for a while," I lied, the words tasting like lead. "Her mom had a relapse. She said she’d be back in a few days to continue the tutoring sessions. She didn't want to be a distraction while the school was so heated."
My father studied me for a long, agonizing second. He was looking for the lie, but I kept my face as blank as a sheet of ice.
"Good," he finally said. "She’s a distraction we don't need right now. Make sure she stays away until this blows over. If she causes one more headline, she’s gone, and her mother's medical coverage goes with her."
He went back to his tablet, and I felt like I could finally breathe. But the relief didn't last long.
The next morning, I walked into Northview High, and I realized that my lie was already dead.
The hallway didn't just go quiet when I entered—it hissed. Usually, people cleared a path for me because they respected me. Today, they cleared a path because I was a walking scandal.
I pulled my locker open, and a dozen printed photos fluttered out like dead moths. My heart stopped.
It was the photo Chloe had teased. My Porsche, parked in the middle of a trash-strewn street in the Fegge area. The time-stamp was 11:45 PM. The caption was written in bold, red letters across the locker: KING OF THE SLUMS.
"Nice ride, Vance. Didn't know you were into 'charity work' at midnight."
I turned. Jax was leaning against the locker next to mine, his varsity jacket open, the Captain’s 'C' pinned to his chest like a trophy. He was surrounded by the rest of the team. Guys who used to take my orders were now looking at me with smirks and mocking eyes.
"Get lost, Jax," I growled, grabbing my books.
"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," Jax laughed, stepping into my space. "The whole school saw the post, Liam. The King of Northview, visiting the Ghost in her little shack. What’s the matter? Did the thirty-thousand-dollar bet turn into a real crush? Or were you just there to make sure she didn't snitch on us?"
"I was returning her bag," I said, trying to push past him.
"At midnight?" Chloe’s voice cut through the crowd. She was walking toward us, her heels clicking like a countdown. She looked perfect, but her eyes were full of a sharp, predatory glee. She held up her phone, showing the Northview Confessions page. "People are talking, Liam. They’re saying you’re the one who gave her the 'Black Book' ideas. They’re saying you’ve gone soft on the Scholarship Case."
"I don't care what they say," I snapped, looking directly at her. I saw the bulge in her pocket where the list I’d given Elena probably was. She had it. She had the weapon, and she was using it to choke me.
"You should care," Chloe whispered, stepping close enough for only me to hear. "Because if the team thinks you’re a traitor, you aren't just suspended from the ice. You’re suspended from everything. I’ve already told Jax about your little visit. He’s very... disappointed."
Jax stepped forward, his massive frame blocking the hallway. "We had a meeting this morning, Liam. The team. We decided that since you’re so fond of the 'Ghost,' maybe you should spend some more time in her world. You’re officially out of the inner circle until you prove you’re still one of us."
"And how do I do that?" I asked, my blood boiling.
Jax grinned, a cruel, jagged expression. "Friday night. The opening game party. We’re going to have a little 'tribute' for Elena. If you want back in, you’re the one who’s going to lead it. You’re going to show the whole school that she’s still just a bet to you. If you don't... well, I hear Switzerland is nice this time of year."
They all laughed and walked away, leaving me standing at my locker.
I looked down at the photo of my car in the slums. I thought of Elena’s face when I’d told her she was "low-class." I’d said it to hurt her, to keep her away, but now it was coming back to haunt me. I was trapped between my father’s threat of military school and Jax’s threat of social execution.
And the worst part? I still had the pen I’d stolen from her in my pocket.
I reached in and gripped it, the plastic biting into my palm. I hated her for making me feel this way. I hated her for being the only person who saw the coward behind the crown. And I hated myself for knowing that when Friday night came, I would probably do exactly what Jax asked.
Because a King without a throne is just a boy in the dark, and I wasn't ready to lose the light.