“Then who was?” Titan asks.
Scott-Evans laughs. It’s a harsh, fractured sound, scraped raw from his throat.
“His fucking father.”
The room tilts. And suddenly, nothing about that night feels settled anymore.
“The dean,” Scott-Evans continues.
His voice steadies now—stronger, clearer—because he’s crossed the point of no return. There’s a strange relief in it. Confession as surrender. As release.
“My uncle,” he says. “He was always there. Watching. Managing. Too much of a coward to get his hands dirty—but never too far away to pull the strings.”
I step closer, boots echoing softly against concrete. “You’re lying.”
Scott-Evans lifts his head and meets my stare without flinching. “I’ve hated that man every second of my miserable life. Long before this.”
Titan doesn’t raise his voice. “Explain.”
Scott-Evans swallows. His throat works like the words hurt on the way up. “He saw a weakness in me. In all of us. He knewexactly what we were. Thought he could use it.” His mouth tightens. “And he did.”
Delaney lets out a soft, humorless scoff. “He tried to hand us his kid like a sacrificial lamb.”
Scott-Evans nods. “Daniel was an academic. Smart. Clean. Better than us.” His lips curl in something like shame—or maybe resentment. “Too good for what we were doing.”
Titan’s jaw locks. “You beat the kid,” he says flatly. “Left him for dead.”
Scott-Evans barks a laugh—sharp, ugly. “Is that what his fucking father told you?”
The silence that follows is deafening.
“He’ll tell you anything,” Scott-Evans sneers, “if it means he gets to sleep at night. If it absolves him. If it lets him rewrite history so his hands stay clean.”
My fists curl at my sides.
“He kept pushing Daniel on us,” Scott-Evans continues. “Wanted him included. Wanted him dirtied. But I wouldn’t let it happen.” His voice drops. “I pushed the kid away every time.”
Delaney shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Daniel Stockton was the only redeeming thing Scott-Evans ever did,” he mutters. “Tried to keep him out of it.”
I stare at Scott-Evans. “Why would the dean push his own son toward men like you?”
Delaney answers before Scott-Evans can. He spits the words like they burn his tongue.
“For purely selfish reasons. The animal wanted to corrupt his own son.”
Scott-Evans nods grimly. “So when we didn’t comply… he could use Daniel instead.”
Titan’s eyes narrow, something dangerous sharpening behind them. “In what way?”
Delaney laughs—a hollow, broken sound. “Girls are morelikely to get into a car with a young jock than a leery old man,” he says. “Father and son?” His shoulders sag. “Even safer.”
The words knock the air from my lungs.
“And that,” Scott-Evans whispers in a voice stripped bare, “is what brought everything to a head.”
He lifts his gaze, eyes burning now.
“Because Daniel figured it out. All of it. The girls. The cover-ups.” His voice cracks just slightly. “The dean’s involvement.”
