All Chapters of The Rugby Captain's Knows My Secret: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

The locked door of the abandoned equipment shed felt less like a sanctuary and more like a cage. I leaned my back against the rusted metal wall, sliding down until my knees hit my chest. My right knuckles were already swelling, a angry purplish-red bruising blooming across the skin. Every breath I took felt like inhaling broken glass as the chest binder strained against my ribs. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the roaring adrenaline still vibrating through my veins. The door handle rattled. I flinched, my hand instinctively dropping to the heavy roll of athletic tape beside me, ready to use it as a weapon. The heavy padlock clicked open, and the door slid back with a harsh, grinding screech. A tall figure stepped into the dim, dust-mote-filled room, slamming the door shut behind him and throwing the deadbolt. It was Asher. He didn’t look like my brother right now; he looked like a ghost. His face was entirely stripped of color, his jaw clenched so tightly the

I stood in the center of the cramped, suffocatingly small space, staring at the scarred wooden wardrobe that held the few pieces of clothing I owned. My knuckles were still throbbing from peeling gum from the gym wall and my shoulder was a dull, localized ache from the punishment the dormitory master had melted out. Across the room, my roommate, Liam, was sprawled out on his unmade bed. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants, his chest rising and falling in the lazy rhythm of someone who hadn't just had their entire world demolished by a piece of paper. He had a handheld gaming console positioned inches from his face, his thumbs tapping furiously against the plastic buttons. I didn't say a word. I dragged a heavy cardboard box from beneath my bed and threw it onto the mattress, the sound of the cardboard scraping against the frame cutting through the room. I marched over to the wardrobe, yanked the doors open with enough force to make the wood groan, and began gra

If someone vanishes inside this academy, does the concrete under the foundation bury the truth forever? The thought didn't feel dark anymore; it felt like a tactical option as I stared at Cassian. He didn’t move, the mother-fucker didn't even blink. He just sat there, dead-eyed, draped lazily across the large leather couch like an ancient king on a throne of bones. A heavy gold ring on his index finger caught the light as he slowly tapped it against his knee. Tap. Tap. Tap. The steady, rhythmic sounding like a countdown to my execution. "Your voice lacks weight, freshman," Cassian said, his voice a low, terrifying purr that filled the entire suite. He didn't look up; his attention was entirely focused on a silver pocket knife he was casually flipping between his fingers. "You come into my quarters throwing half-baked apologies around, expecting me to clear your record. If you actually want to rescue that little scholarship, you have to earn it properly." "Let’s cut the theatric

The afternoon heat rolled off the rugby turf in thick, suffocating waves. I stood at the edge of the pitch, the heavy strap of my training gear cutting into my shoulder as the entire varsity squad began gathering for the session. Cassian was sitting right in the center of the benches, relaxed and completely untroubled by the blistering sun. He sat cross-legged like a king surveying his subjects, a heavy roll of athletic tape balanced casually between his palms. I swallowed my remaining pride and marched straight up to him, stopping right in front of his boots. "I will move into your room," I said, keeping my voice as flat as possible. Cassian didn't even look up from the tape. He slowly spun it around his index finger, a faint, mocking smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "I didn't hear you, freshman." I clenched my jaw, my knuckles turning white as I forced myself to stay grounded. "I said I will move in with you. Like you requested." Cassian finally raised his eyes, hi