Chapter 7
Holly
I woke up with the weight of last night still crushing me. The morning light seeped through my curtains, but it did nothing to warm the chill that settled in my bones.
Logan’s mother’s voice echoed in my mind, sharp and panicked. “Broken fingers. Attacked. Hospital.” The words twisted in my gut, nausea rising with every syllable I replayed.
I knew exactly who did it. Damien’s presence had loomed over that rink like a storm cloud, and now I could see the aftermath clearly—Logan on the ground, struggling for air while Damien stood above him like a conqueror surveying his battlefield. And that had been one dirty play. I couldn't even imagine what had happened to Logan that sent him to the hospital.
The thought made me sick.
Part of me wanted to tell my dad. Storm into his office and lay everything out on the table—the threats, the fights, all of it. I imagined him listening, his brow furrowing as he pieced together the puzzle of Damien's cruelty. It would finally put an end to this nightmare, a way to break free from the tangled mess that tied me to him.
But then another part of me stirred—one I hated myself for nurturing. It whispered soft lies, reminding me that Damien was more than just a monster in my life; he was also a ghost I couldn’t shake off. He had always been there, lurking in shadows, and beneath all that anger and chaos lay a twisted sense of protection he’d always claimed to offer me.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, hoping to erase those thoughts. How could I even consider defending him? He’d hurt Logan because of me—because he saw something that should have been buried long ago: a threat disguised as a choice.
But fear mingled with confusion as I weighed the consequences. If I spoke up, would Damien retaliate? Would he lash out again? The thought tightened around my chest like a vice grip.
Sitting up slowly, I let out a shaky breath. The weight didn’t lift; it only pressed harder. In that moment of stillness, one truth cut through all the noise: I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t.
Because this was Damien. The boy who once loved me so fiercely it felt like breathing.
I could still recall the way his laughter had echoed in the hallways, how his presence wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cold night. I remembered nights spent stargazing, where the world fell away, and it was just us, lost in each other’s eyes. It had been beautiful then—before everything twisted into something dark and jagged.
But that was a lifetime ago. Now, he stood as a specter of chaos in my life, a reminder of everything I had tried to escape. The way he’d targeted Logan with that brutal hit played on repeat in my mind, and I couldn’t shake the knot of dread tightening in my stomach.
What if Damien wasn’t finished? What if he decided to escalate things?
Logan’s face swam before me—the shock and pain when Damien had slammed into him. He hadn’t deserved that. I could have been sitting across from him right now, laughing over drinks instead of pacing my room like a caged animal.
I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to gather myself. This wasn’t just about me anymore; it was about Logan too. But if I confronted Damien or even hinted at what I knew… what would he do?
The truth lay heavy in my chest: Damien could burn my life down if I made the wrong move. He thrived on chaos and manipulation; he’d shown me that much time and again.
The anger bubbled up inside me—anger at him for dragging me back into this mess and anger at myself for letting him have that power over me again.
I paced to the window and looked out into the bright day, wishing it would reflect some semblance of clarity onto my tangled thoughts. But all I saw were shadows creeping along the edges of sunlight—a stark reminder of who stood behind those dark corners, waiting for an opportunity to strike again.
I checked my phone out of habit, fingers trembling as I unlocked the screen. I wanted to send a message to Logan, to check on him, that last night had been some terrible dream. My heart raced at the thought, but reality twisted in my gut as I scrolled through my notifications.
No texts from Logan.
Instead, there it was—a new message from an unknown number. My breath hitched as I read the single word:
Surprise.
My stomach dropped like a stone into icy water. Panic rushed through me, cold and suffocating. The screen blurred for a moment as I tried to comprehend what it meant. I didn't need to think hard to know whose name belonged with that message. Damien's twisted sense of humor hung heavy in the air, and a sick feeling crept into my chest.
I felt cornered, trapped in a web he’d spun with every threat and every smirk. It was his game—always had been—and now he had me exactly where he wanted me.
But what did it mean?
Why now? Why after everything?
My mind raced with possibilities, each darker than the last. Was this about Logan? Had Damien seen us together at the meeting? The very idea sent chills racing down my spine. He always seemed to know my moves before I made them, always three steps ahead like some predator playing with its prey.
I glanced at the time on my phone—almost nine—and I hadn’t heard anything else from Logan’s mother since that frantic call. What if he was still in the hospital? What if Damien's message was a warning about more than just words?
Frustration boiled inside me as I paced across the room, trying to shake off the unease gripping me. Each step felt heavier than the last, and yet all of it led back to one terrifying thought: there was no escaping him.
I shoved my phone into my pocket, wanting to bury it along with all those feelings swirling inside me—the fear of Damien’s influence over my life and the anger for letting him slip back in so easily. But deep down, beneath all that chaos simmered something else—a reluctant recognition that whatever was happening next was going to force me to confront him again.
And there would be no backing down this time.
I walked into the planning committee meeting, my stomach a tangled mess of nerves. The event office buzzed with energy, but today it felt suffocating.
As I settled into my seat, I could feel the whispers swirling around me like a thick fog. They buzzed with speculation and concern—everything about Logan’s absence weighed heavy in the air. My heart raced as I tried to focus on the committee head outlining the agenda for the charity game.
“Have you heard?” one girl murmured to her friend across the table. “They say Logan’s in the hospital.”
I forced myself to keep my eyes on the agenda in front of me, pretending I didn’t hear them.
Another voice chimed in, sharper and filled with accusation. “Do you think he’ll still play? I mean, after what happened?”
The question hung in the air like a brick, and my throat tightened. They didn’t know what had really gone down; they only saw what Damien wanted them to see. A sick twist of fate that I felt deep in my bones.
Someone else piped up quietly, “I heard it was Sinclaire who did it.”
I stayed silent, biting down hard on my lip as dread pooled in my stomach. My mind raced through memories of Logan’s easy laughter and confident charm—the boy who made me feel safe for once. And now he lay broken somewhere, all because of Damien’s vendetta against anyone who dared to get close to me.
The chatter continued around me as people exchanged hushed comments, but all I could hear was that ominous thrum in my chest. They spoke about players and schedules as if nothing significant had happened, while inside I felt everything shattering apart.
And there I sat—silent—stuck between loyalty and fear, knowing that nothing would ever be normal again.
The meeting droned on, my mind still reeling from the whispers. I shifted in my seat, trying to focus, but each second felt like an eternity. Then the committee head, a man named Bernie Skully, cleared his throat, and a hush fell over the room.
“I have an important update regarding player assignments,” he said, glancing at his notes. “Due to Logan’s injury, we’ve had to make some changes.”
My heart sank. The words hung heavy in the air, wrapping around me like a vice. I barely registered what he said next.
“Effective immediately, Holly Walker will be paired with Damien Sinclaire. I've shifted Brennan over to…”
But I didn't hear the rest.
The world tilted. My breath caught in my throat as shock coursed through me. I scanned the room, searching for familiar faces—everyone seemed equally stunned. My mind screamed in protest; this wasn’t happening.
“Wait—what?” I managed to stammer, my voice barely rising above the murmurs that swept through the group.
“Logan’s out for now,” Bernie repeated, unfazed by my reaction. “Holly will take over coordinating with Damien for the charity game.”
I sat there frozen, every instinct telling me to flee. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
This was all part of his plan.
The room spun as I tried to process it all. My fingers trembled against the tabletop. How could they do this? Did they even understand what this meant? A sense of betrayal bubbled up inside me as I thought about how easily they brushed aside Logan’s injury for the sake of logistics.
“This is a mistake,” I muttered under my breath, but deep down I knew it was far too late for that now.
I stormed into my father’s office; the door slamming shut behind me with a satisfying bang. My heart raced, a mix of anger and disbelief bubbling up inside me.
“This isn’t happening,” I spat, glaring at him from across the room.
Dean Walker looked up from his desk, his expression as cold and distant as ever. He didn’t even flinch at my outburst, just adjusted papers on his desk and regarded me with that infuriating calm.
“You’ll manage Sinclaire. That’s the arrangement.” His voice dripped with authority, like it was something I should have accepted without question.
I felt the blood drain from my face as I connected the dots—Damien had maneuvered this entire situation to pull me back into his orbit. And my father? He had let it happen.
Betrayal twisted in my gut, but somehow I wasn’t surprised. This was how he worked—sacrificing me for the sake of his reputation and standing in the community. He always made choices that served him best while ignoring what I wanted or needed.
“Keep him in line, Holly,” he continued, his tone unwavering. “This is your responsibility now.”
I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting back a wave of frustration that threatened to spill over. “You can’t be serious! Do you even care what Damien did to Logan? Or what he might do to me?”
“Enough.” His voice sliced through my protests like a knife. He clenched his teeth; I could see the conflict on his face. I knew he didn't like this anymore than I did. So why…? “We both know he’ll torment you, but as psycho as he is, he’d never lay a hand on you. Not you.”
It felt like he was dismissing everything I cared about—my friendships, my safety—all in favor of appearances and maintaining control over the situation. The air grew thick with tension as I struggled to contain my anger.
“This is ridiculous!” I shot back, not backing down. But deep down, I knew it was futile. In this game of power dynamics, I had become nothing more than a pawn on his chessboard.
His eyes hardened as he leaned forward slightly, each word deliberate and cold. “You will handle this.”
And just like that, any hope of finding support vanished into thin air.
I crossed my arms tightly, unwilling to back down. “You’re telling me I have to babysit him? You really think that’s a good idea after everything he’s done?”
Dean Walker sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Holly, this isn’t just about you and Damien. This charity event is crucial for my career. It has to be perfect.”
“Perfect?” I scoffed. “And you think putting me in the same room with him is going to make it perfect?”
“He promised to behave as long as you’re the one handling him.” His eyes bored into mine, filled with that condescending resolve that always made my skin crawl.
“Seriously? You believe him?” My voice rose, disbelief bubbling over. “You think he’s going to keep his word? He’s a loose cannon! You know how he operates!”
“I don’t like this any more than you do,” he replied, his voice hardening slightly. “But we don’t have a choice here. This is how it has to be.”
“Bullshit!” I snapped, shaking my head in frustration. The urge to throw something was almost overwhelming—anything to make him see how ridiculous this was. “You’re choosing your career over my safety!”
He opened his mouth, probably ready with another justification, but I didn’t give him the chance. I turned on my heel and stormed out of his office, feeling the heat of anger radiating off me.
I couldn’t believe this was happening—my father had placed me directly in the line of fire. I shoved past students on campus, their chatter fading into a dull roar around me as I fought against the tightness in my chest.
Damien Sinclaire was back in my life whether I wanted him or not, and now it seemed I had no way out of this mess. My father had made his choice; now I needed to figure out mine before everything spiraled completely out of control.
I pulled out my phone as soon as I stepped onto Ring Road, the sounds of campus fading into a muffled hum behind me. Here, it felt quieter—almost peaceful—but the tranquility did nothing to ease the turmoil swirling inside me.
I stared at the screen, Logan’s name flashing like a beacon of hope and despair all at once. I wanted to call him. Wanted to apologize for everything that had happened and explain how it wasn’t supposed to be this way. How I never wanted him to get hurt because of me.
But deep down, I knew there was nothing I could say that would change anything.
Damien had ruined that.
His name alone sent a shiver down my spine. The way he’d looked at me on the ice, like I was some kind of prize to be claimed again—it made my skin crawl and yet ignited something dark inside me. He had an uncanny ability to push and pull, keeping me teetering on the edge between anger and confusion.
I felt him closing in, like a noose tightening around my throat. The memory of his mocking wave lingered in my mind—a clear message that he was still here, still wanting control over everything in his orbit, including me.
Choices? I thought I had them. But standing there on Ring Road, staring blankly at my phone, I realized how na?ve I’d been. The illusion of freedom slipped away with every second that passed.
There were no options left for me now. It was as if Damien had orchestrated this entire situation from the shadows while I remained blissfully unaware, thinking I could carve out a normal life for myself after all those years apart from him.
And now? Now he had a hold on me again.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard I tried to escape him, Damien would always find a way back into my life.
I tossed and turned in bed, desperately trying to drown out the chaos in my mind. The soft glow of my phone cut through the darkness, and I instinctively reached for it. My heart dropped when I saw the unknown number flashing on the screen.
See you soon, little lamb.
My breath caught in my throat. The room spun around me as I sank onto the edge of my bed, gripping the sheets like they were a lifeline. It felt like ice water coursed through my veins, freezing every rational thought.
I stared at the message, disbelief washing over me. How could he still have this power over me? How could he find pleasure in tormenting me like this? It was maddening. The walls felt like they were closing in; I needed to escape this feeling of being trapped again.
He knew exactly what to say to unravel me. This wasn’t just a threat; it was a reminder that he was back in my life whether I liked it or not. I couldn’t shake the image of him standing over Logan on the ice—his predatory gaze, that triumphant smirk. My stomach twisted at the thought of what he might do next.
This wasn’t over. It’s only just beginning.
The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave, pulling me under as panic set in. My mind raced with thoughts of all the ways Damien could make my life hell. I felt so powerless, and that made it worse—far worse than any physical threat he could pose.
I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to fend off the rising anxiety. Each thud of my heart echoed his message back to me: he was here to stay.
The night loomed ahead, dark and suffocating. All I wanted was to wake up and find that this was just a bad dream—one where Damien Sinclaire didn’t exist at all.