Revoked

SEVEN.

I couldn't leave.

The engine was still running, but my hands stayed locked around the steering wheel as I stared at the dark basement window across the street. It looked empty, lifeless, like no one had ever lived there. The old woman's words kept repeating inside my head until they sounded louder than the traffic outside. Men came for her. She was crying. She missed her time. None of it made sense. If immigration had taken Mikka, why was her apartment already empty? Why did it feel like somebody wanted every sign of her erased?

I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel and shut my eyes.

"Why do I even care?" I whispered.

My wolf stirred.

Because she was scared.

I groaned.

"No. She worked with Levi. That's enough reason to stay away."

But even saying it didn't convince me anymore.

The girl I met last night wasn't manipulative. She was desperate. There was a difference. I remembered how her hands shook when she asked me to fake-date her. I remembered the way she tried to hide her bleeding knees like they weren't important. Most of all, I remembered her pretending to be strong while her whole world was falling apart.

I had walked away.

My chest tightened until breathing hurt.

Finally, I started the car.

"I'm just finding answers," I muttered to myself. "That's all."

Instead of turning toward the practice arena, I drove toward the university.

The campus was packed.

Students crossed every path carrying coffee, backpacks, and phones held in front of their faces. The moment I stepped out of my truck, I heard laughter. It wasn't normal laughter. It was the kind people used when they thought someone else's pain was entertainment.

"That's the stalker girl."

"I heard she lied to Levi for years."

"They're deporting her today."

"Good. She deserved it."

Another student shook her head.

"You don't even know the whole story."

"What story? The video's enough."

I clenched my jaw and kept walking.

Every word made something inside me burn. Last night I almost believed the same thing they did. Now every sentence sounded uglier than the last.

Inside the Kinesiology building, everything smelled like books, coffee, and freshly cleaned floors. Students hurried between classes while lecturers carried stacks of papers.

A woman behind the front desk smiled politely.

"Can I help you?"

"I hope so," I answered. "I'm Seven Calloway."

Her eyes widened.

"The hockey player?"

I nodded.

"I was wondering if someone here could help me understand performance analytics."

"Oh." She smiled brighter. "Professor Ellis loves talking about hockey. His office is down the hall."

A few minutes later, I stood inside a cramped office covered with whiteboards filled with numbers and diagrams.

Professor Ellis adjusted his glasses.

"So, Mr. Calloway. What brings an NHL rookie to my office?"

"I've been struggling."

He laughed softly.

"You're honest. I like that."

We spent several minutes talking about shooting angles, reaction times, and skating patterns before his eyes suddenly narrowed.

"You remind me of one of our students."

I frowned.

"Who?"

"Mikka Rowan."

My heartbeat stumbled.

"You know her?"

His face lit up immediately.

"Know her? She's one of the brightest students I've ever taught."

I blinked.

"What?"

Professor Ellis leaned back proudly.

"That girl sees hockey differently. Most people watch the puck. Mikka watches everything else. Every player's movement. Every mistake before it happens."

Someone knocked on the open door.

Another lecturer stepped inside carrying folders.

"Sorry to interrupt."

Professor Ellis smiled.

"Perfect timing. We're talking about Mikka."

The woman sighed.

"Poor girl."

I looked between them.

"You both know her?"

She nodded.

"She practically lived in our analytics lab."

Professor Ellis chuckled.

"I used to kick her out every night."

"And she always came back before sunrise," the woman added with a sad smile.

I couldn't picture it.

"The internet says she was obsessed with Levi."

Both professors exchanged confused looks.

"Obsessed?" Professor Ellis repeated.

"She never talked about herself."

The woman folded her arms.

"Half the research projects in this department improved because of Mikka."

Another voice joined behind us.

"I can prove that."

A teaching assistant walked in carrying a laptop.

"I've seen her here almost every morning."

He scratched the back of his neck.

"Actually... I’ve also seen Levi picking her up outside."

Silence filled the office.

"You saw that?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Dozens of times."

"You never thought anything about it?"

"I assumed they were together."

Professor Ellis sighed deeply.

"She never asked for recognition."

The teaching assistant laughed sadly. "Sometimes I'd congratulate her after a presentation, but she always refused to take credit for anything."

"How do you mean?" I asked quietly.

"She usually always said 'It's fine. Somebody else needed it more.'"

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Finally, I forced myself to ask,

"Has anyone seen her since the gala?"

Every face fell.

"No."

Professor Ellis looked genuinely worried. “We've tried calling, but we’ve gotten no answer so far.”

The teaching assistant lowered his eyes.

"She was supposed to begin her Master's this month."

After a few more questions and answers, I thanked them quietly before walking out. Each step I took felt heavier than the last.

Outside the administration building, students crowded around a large scholarship noticeboard.

I almost walked past it.

Then one name stopped me cold.

MIKKA ROWAN.

A large white envelope had been pinned to the board. Across the front, one word was stamped in thick red ink.

REVOKED.

I couldn't move.

This was the scholarship she fought fo—the one she waved in Levi's face, and the one she begged to keep.

My fingers curled into fists.

A woman carrying files stopped beside me.

"Looking for someone?"

I pointed toward the envelope.

"What happened?"

She barely glanced at it.

"She had an immigration issue, so her scholarship got cancelled, I guess,” she answered.

"That's it?"

She shrugged.

"University policy."

I stared at her.

"She earned that scholarship."

"So I've heard."

"Then why take it away?"

The woman sighed impatiently.

"Her study permit was cancelled."

My stomach twisted.

"So?"

"So she's no longer eligible."

I swallowed hard.

"What happens now?"

She checked her clipboard.

"It was reassigned this morning."

"So fast?"

"We can't leave scholarships unused." She spoke so casually it almost sounded routine. "Someone else accepted it an hour ago."

She smiled politely.

"Have a nice day, young man.”

Then she walked away.

I stood there alone, staring at the red stamp until the letters blurred.

Mikka hadn't just lost a piece of paper. She had lost years of skipped meals, years of sleepless nights, and years of believing life would finally get better.

And I remembered her standing in the empty rink with tears in her eyes.

"Fake date me... just twenty-four hours."

I remembered laughing it off.

"I can make you score more than Levi."

I remembered walking away.

A cold feeling settled inside my chest. I had looked at a drowning girl and told her to find someone else.

I lowered my head and whispered words that nobody around me could hear as I made my way towards my car.

"God, I should've said yes.”