Chapter 21 The huge weight
Chapter 21: The Weight of the Crown (Liam’s POV)
The locker room felt like a tomb. Usually, this was the one place where I felt in control, where the noise of my father’s expectations and the social politics of the hallways couldn't reach me. But today, the air was thick with a silence that felt like a threat.
I sat on the bench, staring at my skates. I wasn't allowed to put them on. The suspension was a physical ache, a phantom limb that reminded me I was no longer the Captain in the eyes of the team. I was a guest in my own house.
"You look like you're at a funeral, Vance."
Jax was standing at the end of the row, pulling his jersey over his head. The 'C' on his chest looked wrong. It looked like a stain. He grabbed his stick and started taping the blade, his movements aggressive and sharp.
"Just here to get my things, Jax," I said, my voice flat.
"Good. Because the guys don't want a distraction before practice." Jax stepped closer, the smell of ice and sweat surrounding him. "We talked about Friday. The party at the lake house. You know what you have to do."
"I heard you the first time," I snapped, standing up to meet his gaze. I was taller, but right now, Jax held all the cards. He had the team, and he had Chloe.
"Do you? Because Chloe seems to think you've got a soft spot for the Ghost. She told me about your little midnight visit. She said you looked... pathetic." Jax laughed, a low, mocking sound that made my blood boil. "If you don't make it clear on Friday that she’s nothing but a bet, the guys are going to assume you're the one who leaked the Black Book. And we both know what happens to snitches in this room."
"I didn't leak anything," I lied. The weight of the list I’d given Elena felt like a lead weight in my memory. I’d given it to her to protect myself, to give her a shield, but she had turned it into a sword.
"Then prove it," Jax said, slamming his stick against the locker. "Friday night. You lead the 'Ghost Roast.' You’re the one who pours the first drink on her, and you’re the one who tells her to her face that the thirty thousand was the best money you ever spent. If you don't, Liam... you're dead to us. And I’ll make sure your father finds out why."
Jax walked out toward the rink, the rest of the team following him in a rhythmic clatter of skates. I was left alone in the echoing room.
I walked out to the parking lot, my head down, trying to avoid the stares. I saw my Porsche parked at the edge of the lot. I hated the car now. It was a beacon, a target. As I got closer, I saw a figure leaning against the passenger door.
It was Elena.
She wasn't wearing her hoodie today. She was wearing a thin jacket that didn't look warm enough for the afternoon chill. She was balanced on her crutches, her eyes fixed on the entrance of the school. When she saw me, she didn't look away. She didn't look afraid.
She looked like she was waiting for me to fail.
"What are you doing here, Elena?" I asked, stopping a few feet away. "I told you not to talk to me. I told you it wasn't safe."
"I'm not here to talk, Liam," she said. Her voice was different—harder, like a blade that had been tempered in fire. "I'm here to return something."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled bill—the fake money with her face on it from the pep rally. She let go of it, and the wind caught it, tumbling it across the asphalt between us.
"Keep your money," she said. "And keep your 'Black Book.' I don't need your weapons to win this, Liam. I don't need a coward who plays both sides."
"Elena, you don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly," she interrupted. "You’re afraid. You're terrified of losing your friends, your car, and your daddy's money. You’d rather watch me drown than get your shoes wet. Well, guess what? I’m done waiting for you to find a spine."
She started to hobble away, the rhythmic thump-thump of her crutches sounding like a countdown.
"Friday night," I called out, my voice desperate. "Don't come to the party, Elena. Stay home. Lock your doors. Whatever Jax and Chloe are planning... I can't stop it."
Elena stopped and turned her head slightly, her profile sharp against the gray sky. "Oh, I'm coming, Liam. But I'm not coming as a victim. I'm coming to watch you choose."
"Choose what?"
"Choose between your crown and your soul," she said. "Because by the end of Friday night, you aren't going to have both."
She walked away, leaving me standing next to my car with a fake dollar bill at my feet. I looked at the school, at the rink where my life used to make sense, and then at the girl disappearing into the distance.
The 'tribute' was in forty-eight hours. The whole school was expecting a show. Jax wanted a sacrifice. Chloe wanted a puppet. And Elena... Elena wanted the truth.
I got into the car and slammed my hands against the steering wheel until they bled. I was the King of Northview, and I had never felt more like a prisoner.