Chapter 29 The king shield
Chapter 29: The King’s Shield (Liam’s POV)
I saw the crowd before I saw the locker.
The junior hallway was packed, a wall of blue-and-gold varsity jackets and expensive sneakers. The air was thick with that high-pitched, jagged energy that usually preceded a fight or a scandal. My stomach did a slow, nauseating roll. I knew that look. I’d seen it a hundred times, and usually, I was the one leading the charge.
"Look at the Ghost’s new wallpaper!" Jax’s voice boomed over the crowd, followed by a chorus of cruel laughter.
I pushed through the swarm, my jaw tight. "Move," I snapped, shoving a sophomore out of my way.
When the crowd parted, I stopped. My breath hitched.
Elena’s locker wasn't just painted; it was bleeding. Thick, crimson paint had been hurled against the metal, dripping down like wet wounds onto the linoleum floor. But it was the writing that made my blood run cold. In jagged, dripping letters, someone had listed the names. My teammates. My friends. Chloe’s "customers."
And there, at the very bottom, in letters twice as large as the others: LIAM VANCE.
"Check it out, Vance," Jax said, leaning against the lockers with a smug grin. He was holding a half-empty can of red spray paint, his fingers stained a matching shade of red. "We decided to help her out. Since she likes 'exposing' people so much, we thought we’d give her a head start on her own obituary."
I looked at my name. My reputation. My legacy. All of it was being dragged through the mud by a girl who was currently sleeping in my guest wing.
"You did this?" I turned to Jax, my voice dangerously low.
"We all did," Jax said, gesturing to the team. "Chloe said the Ghost needed a reminder that Northview doesn't like snitches. We’re waiting for her to show up so we can give her a proper 'red carpet' welcome."
The crowd started to cheer. Someone held up a bucket of what looked like more paint mixed with glitter. They were ready for a repeat of the party. They were ready to break her once and for all.
And then, I heard it. Thump. Click. Thump. Click.
The hallway went dead silent. Elena was hobbling toward us, her black cane striking the floor with a steady, defiant rhythm. She was still wearing the clothes from breakfast, her face a mask of pale, frozen determination. She saw the paint. She saw the names. She saw me.
"Don't," I whispered to the air, though I didn't know if I was talking to her or to Jax.
Elena didn't stop until she was inches away from the lockers. She looked at the red paint, her eyes tracing the names. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She reached out and touched the wet paint with her finger, then looked at the red stain on her skin.
"Is this the best you could do, Jax?" she asked, her voice clear and chillingly calm. "Red paint? It’s a little… unoriginal, don't you think?"
"Shut up, Scholarship!" Jax shouted, stepping forward with the bucket. "You think because you’re living with the Vances, you’re untouchable? You’re a rat. And rats get drowned."
He raised the bucket, his muscles tensing. The crowd leaned in, phones out, ready to record the fall of the Red Queen.
I didn't think. I didn't plan. My body moved before my brain could tell it to stop.
I stepped between Elena and Jax. I grabbed the edge of the bucket, my fingers sinking into the cold, sticky mixture, and wrenched it out of Jax’s hands. I slammed it onto the floor, the paint exploding in a messy starburst that soaked into my expensive Italian leather boots.
"That's enough!" I roared.
The silence that followed was absolute. Jax looked at me like I’d just grown a second head. "Vance? What the hell are you doing? She put your name on that list!"
"I don't care about the list!" I stepped into Jax’s space, my chest heaving. I could feel the eyes of the entire school on me. I could feel the crown slipping off my head. "The party was one thing. This? This is pathetic. Go to class. All of you."
"Are you choosing her?" Chloe’s voice came from the back of the crowd. She pushed her way forward, her eyes red from crying, her face twisted in a mask of betrayal. "Liam, she destroyed my life! She’s a parasite! How can you stand there and defend her?"
I looked at Chloe, then at the team, then at Elena, who was standing behind me. She was looking at my back with an expression I couldn't read. Surprise? Confusion?
"I'm not defending her," I said, my voice dripping with a disgust I couldn't hide—for them, for her, and mostly for myself. "I’m defending my house. She’s a Vance guest. If you have a problem with her, you have a problem with me. Now. Get. Out."
Jax looked like he wanted to swing at me, but he saw the look in my eyes. He knew I was the Captain for a reason. He spat on the floor near my boots, turned on his heel, and walked away. One by one, the crowd dispersed, the whispering starting up again like a swarm of angry hornets.
“Did he just protect her?”
“The King just chose the Ghost.”
“Something is going on in that mansion.”
When the hallway was finally empty, I turned around. Elena was still standing there, her finger still stained with red paint. She looked at the mess on the floor, then up at me.
"Why?" she asked.
I felt a wave of pure, unadulterated disgust wash over me. I looked at her—the mess she’d caused, the chaos she’d brought into my life, the way she made me act like someone I didn't recognize.
"Don't get it twisted, Elena," I said, my voice cold as ice. I reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at me. My fingers were stained with the paint from the bucket. "I didn't do that for you. I did it because my name was on that locker. I did it because I’m tired of cleaning up your messes."
"You’re lying," she whispered.
"Am I?" I leaned in, my face inches from hers. I could see the flecks of gold in her eyes and the way her breath hitched. For a second, the hatred felt like something else—something hot and electric and terrifying. I hated that I knew the shape of her lips. I hated that I could feel the heat radiating off her. "You’re a scholarship girl who’s way out of her league. You’re staying in my house because my father is playing a game. But don't think for one second that you’re part of this world."
I let go of her chin so abruptly she stumbled back against the locker. I wiped my stained hands on my pants, the red paint leaving streaks on the expensive fabric.
"You're a stain, Elena," I said, looking at her with a sneer. "A loud, irritating stain that I have to tolerate until my father decides to wash you away. Fix your locker. And don't you dare mention my name in public again."
I turned and walked away, my boots squelching with every step. I didn't look back. I couldn't.
I felt sick to my stomach. I had just stood up for a girl I was supposed to hate. I had just betrayed my team for a "nobody."
I reached the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, scrubbing the red paint off my skin until it was raw. I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the guy looking back at me. The King was gone. There was just a boy who was drowning in a war he didn't know how to win.
"I hate her," I whispered to my reflection.
But as I said the words, I remembered the way she didn't flinch when Jax raised the bucket. I remembered the fire in her eyes. And for the first time, I realized that the disgust I felt wasn't just for Elena.
It was for the fact that I was starting to realize she was the only real thing in this entire, plastic school. And that realization was the most disgusting thing of all.