Liam's Father

They'd agreed to regroup at Jason's dorm room later that night.

On Liam's way back to his own room, Samantha caught up to him.

"What happened to your head?"

"Hit something," Liam said flatly.

"It's wrapped cleanly." Her tone was soft but sharp. "Lying was a bad move."

Liam's jaw tightened. His fingers twitched against his thigh — a tell Samantha knew too well. He always drummed his fingers when he lied.

Through a few careful questions earlier, Samantha had pieced together the rough shape of Liam's secret plan.

"What if Jason finds out?" she pressed.

"Better later than now," Liam shot back.

"Your methods are cruel, Liam. I get your intentions — but you don't have to do this alone. Let us help. There's a better way than this."

Liam didn't answer. He just lowered his head and kept walking, leaving Samantha alone in the hall.

The rest of the walk was nothing but quiet reflection. He replayed every step that brought him here — every choice that chained him to this path.

It started with Lydia Ryder — human garbage whose death served the greater cause. Ending the game.

Then Alex Quinn — a good man, a decent cop — sacrificed for the same goal.

Brandon's men — that was self-defense, at worst. Necessary, at best.

At his door, Liam slipped the key into the lock — only to freeze at the familiar, grating voice behind him.

"Where the fuck you been, kid?"

Liam's shoulders tensed. He pushed the door open without looking back.

"Two girls at the same time, huh?" his father cackled behind him. "Nice one."

Liam slammed the door shut in his father's face. He heard the man's laughter echo down the hall.

"What's this I hear about you gettin' arrested?" the voice jeered through the door.

Rumors, Liam thought bitterly. He could guess exactly why his father had come — not out of concern, but because the family name was getting dragged through the dirt. Peer pressure. Nothing more.

"I was released. I didn't do anything," Liam called through the door — sharper than usual.

"Aw, come on. You must've done something."

"Where'd you hear about it?"

"What, a daddy's not supposed to know what his boy's up to?" The fake concern dripped off every word.

"Not if you never gave a shit about me," Liam shot back.

His father's laugh was all teeth. "Still salty I cut off your allowance?"

Liam ignored him. He dropped his bag, sat at his desk, and quietly packed the foldable knives for tonight's game.

"It's called adult life, Liam. No handouts. No charity." The voice pressed closer to the door, muffled but smug. "Learn it early."

Liam didn't bother answering. Arguing with him was like arguing with a wall.

"Liammm…" The man sang his name like a threat. "What did you doooo, Liammm?"

Liam got up and headed for the shower, tuning him out.

By the time he came back, towel around his shoulders, the door was cracked open. His father was inside — squatting by the bed, hands on the worst possible thing: the stack of cash in the briefcase from Detective Knight.

"Where'd you get all this, huh?" His father held up the tied banknotes from Knight's briefcase, eyes glinting with filthy curiosity.

Liam just yanked the money from his hands, shoved it back in the briefcase.

"Under the bed, huh? Rookie move. Everyone hides shit under the bed, son."

Liam jammed the case back in place, ignoring him. "And if that's what got me arrested?"

His father just laughed — not a hint of concern. "Then you did it right, didn't you? Crime's not illegal, kid. Getting caught is illegal."

A sick lesson — but not a surprise. Just another reminder of who this man really was.

"How about I hold onto it for you? Under the bed ain't safe."

"No." Liam's eyes flashed up, dead cold.

His father laughed again, brushing it off. "Alright, alright. Don't get caught, that's all I'm saying."

He turned to leave, then Liam called after him — a thought burning his tongue.

"If you had to choose — kill or be killed — you'd pick kill, right? As long as you don't get caught?"

The old man stopped, turned back with a mocking grin. "Where the hell did that come from?" He barked out a laugh. "Course I'd pick kill. Why wouldn't I? Should I just sit like a bitch and be killed? Hell no."

No goodbye, no wave — he just slipped out the door, still chuckling.

Liam exhaled. He didn't know if that counted for tonight's game — but he'd be ready either way.

On his desk sat two plastic-wrapped foldable knives, waiting for the moment. He picked up his phone and dialed.

Caitlyn picked up on the second ring. "Y-yes?" she stammered.

"Meet me. Cafeteria."