Fifty-Seven
As soon as I got back to the locker room, I was dumping the phone bucket on the floor and searching for mine. I needed to find Ed. We needed to figure out the next steps. I needed to know that she was still safe with Alv.
The absolute fucking panic that I was having was paralyzing my fingers, and I kept fumbling my phone.
I couldn’t get it to fucking work. Aside from last fall when I held her limp body in my arms, I can honestly say that I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so fucking helpless in my life than I did in this moment.
I couldn’t even lose the right way, and now it might cost me everything.
The one fucking thing that I was supposed to do, and I couldn’t even pull that off to keep my girl safe.
Payton’s psychotic promise to kill Ed if I didn’t deliver played over and over in my head.
I wasn’t thinking about the fucking win that the boys pulled out of their asses tonight.
No, I was reliving Payton holding up a gun and threatening the love of my fucking life.
I was in the locker room with the team when I heard the arena alarm go off. I legit had just gotten out of the fucking shower when that shit started screaming out with a blinking light that broke up the celebration and sent the guys scrambling to grab their shit and get the fuck out.
I moved as fast as I could and threw my clothes over my wet skin before stuffing my wallet, keys, and phone into my pocket. And then I had to help my brother. He was getting his feet taped, and I grabbed all his shit and ran to the PT room.
Before all that, the boys were getting hyped for a party that was being put together to celebrate the win and the Devils advancing on. I’m not in a fucking party mood, and the boys finally got the fucking hint.
I called Ed as we all jogged our way out of the tunnel.
It went straight to voicemail, but I wasn’t losing my shit yet.
I had a backup plan. The other night, I pulled the AirTag that I use to track my gear out of my duffle bag and safety-pinned that shit to the inner fold of her black beanie while she was sleeping.
Thank fuck that I did, because Alvi texted to let me know that she dipped out on him as they were walking out of the game.
I don’t know why, but I had a fucking feeling that this little demon would pull some shit like that.
I started tracking her ass and pulled up the location app to see where the fuck she was.
“Where you going, Ed?” I asked out loud to myself and texted it to her ass as well.
Her dot is moving away from the arena, and with each step she takes, she’s getting further away from me.
I don’t fucking like that, and neither does the dragon in my gut.
He starts to exhale smoke from his nostrils, and it burns the lining of my lungs when I try to take a fucking breath.
I can’t breathe. She’s fucking leaving. No, no, no, no, no.
As soon as Alvi sent the text that Ed had gotten separated from the group, I called his ass but couldn’t hear him over the fucking noise.
My skin felt like it was crawling as I went back to text and told him where to fucking meet me.
Her dot was moving towards the shop, so that’s where I told him to go as I barrelled through the crowd of fans blocking our