Chapter 13: The Falling Star
732 Words
Liam’s POV
"Jax, open the damn door!" I slammed my shoulder against the equipment shed. The heavy metal didn't budge.
"I'm trying, man!" Jax’s voice came from the other side, sounding suspiciously strained. "The lock is jammed from the outside. I think some freshman pulled a prank."
"This isn't a joke. The girls' heat started three minutes ago," I barked, checking my watch. Megan was in this heat. I was supposed to be at the finish line.
I looked around the cramped, dark space. Something felt wrong. Jax was usually a klutz, but locking us both in right before the main event?
"Move," I said, my voice dropping.
"What?"
"I said move!"
I stepped back, took a breath, and kicked the door right next to the latch with everything I had. The frame groaned. Second kick, the wood splintered. Third kick, the door swung wide, clattering against the exterior wall.
I didn't wait for Jax. I sprinted toward the athletic field.
The crowd was screaming, but it wasn't the sound of cheering. It was the sound of a collective gasp. I rounded the bleachers just in time to see Megan reaching the top of the twelve-foot climbing wall.
She looked strong. She looked like she was winning.
Then, the world tilted.
Megan’s POV
"Almost there," I whispered to myself, my fingers digging into the top ledge of the wall. My muscles were screaming, but the finish line was just a drop-and-dash away.
I shifted my weight to the secondary harness, waiting for the tension to catch so I could rapple down.
Snap.
The sound was small, like a twig breaking, but the result was instant. The harness went slack.
"Liam!" I screamed, my name for him slipping out before I could think.
My grip failed. The sky and the turf swapped places. I felt the rush of wind, the blur of the horrified faces in the stands, and then—
The impact never came.
Liam’s POV
I didn't think about the physics. I didn't think about the fact that catching a falling person from that height could break my own arms. I just dived.
The collision sent us both rolling across the turf. Pain flared in my shoulder as we tumbled, but I didn't let go. I couldn't let go.
The field went deathly silent.
"Megan? Megan, talk to me," I gasped, hovering over her. My lungs felt like they were filled with glass.
She was pale, her chocolate eyes wide and unfocused. "Liam?"
"I'm here. I've got you." I pulled her up into my lap, my hands shaking as I checked her for injuries.
"The harness," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It just... it gave way."
I looked up at the wall. The strap was dangling, the end frayed in a way that didn't look like a natural tear. I felt a cold, murderous rage settle in my gut.
"Liam! Oh my god, is she okay?" Sophie’s voice broke through the crowd. She was running toward us, her face a mask of perfect, practiced horror. "I saw the whole thing! It was terrifying!"
I looked at Sophie. Truly looked at her. I saw the way her eyes darted to the camera in Chloe’s hand, then back to us.
"Get away from us, Sophie," I said, my voice a low, dangerous growl.
"Liam, I just wanted to help—"
"I said get away!"
I stood up, lifting Megan into my arms. She felt small, shivering against my chest. "If I find out you had anything to do with this—and believe me, I will find out—not even your father's money will save you."
The crowd parted like the Red Sea as I carried her toward the infirmary. I didn't care about the fundraiser. I didn't care about the board of directors.
"Liam," Megan murmured, burying her face into my neck. "You're hurt. Your shoulder..."
"Doesn't matter," I muttered, tightening my hold. "Nothing else matters right now."
For the first time since this "fake" arrangement started, I wasn't acting. And as I looked down at her, I realized that the "Ghost" had finally become the only thing I could see.
- Writer
