I glance around the room. It’s completely not her style—an old, colorful blanket tossed over a worn leather couch, a thick rug, and wood coffee table. Dark wood everywhere. The heavy curtains are pulled shut over the windows, blocking out most of the sunlight.
“Sit down,” she hisses at me.
“I think I’d rather go,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Mia, I wasn’t going to leave you.” I step back and bump into a side table. The lamp on it wobbles, and I grab at it.
Turning my back on her is a mistake.
She wraps her arm around my neck, yanking me into her. I lose my balance and grab at her, and that’s when she tightens her grip. It doesn’t matter how much I struggle, or scratch at her, or try to kick. She just doesn’t let go.
Until white spots dance in front of my eyes.
This is where Grey would release me.
But she doesn’t. Not until a cold darkness reaches up and drags me down.
And maybe not even then.
54
GREYSON
We’re preparing our equipment when my phone goes off.
Willow
Call me ASAP.
I frown and glance at Knox, who’s busy wrapping his hockey stick, and then call her. We only arrived a few minutes ago. The bus ride was somber, everyone lost in their own thoughts before this game. If we lose it, we’re out.
“I can’t find Violet,” Willow says, not bothering with a greeting. “She didn’t hitch a ride with you, did she?”
“What the fuck do you mean, you can’t find her?” I stand, abandoning my shit and leaving the locker room altogether. I love my teammates, but they’re nosy as hell. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I called her, and it goes straight to voicemail. When I showed up at the CPB building, Mia’s assistant was the only one there. Said everyone was done already and she wasn’t sure…” Willow hesitates. “She said she thought she saw Violet talking to a new choreographer after the auditions.”
My lungs aren’t working. I can’t believe this is happening.
Her stalker finally acted? Took her?
“You checked all the usual spots? She didn’t just go home instead of calling you immediately?” I pace the hallway, in desperate need to hit something.
Of course it happens now. When I’m an hour away.
“Willow,” I snap.
“Jesus, Greyson,” she yells. “I checked everywhere I could think before I called you. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
She hangs up on me.
I swear and call her back but get no response.
“Devereux,” Coach calls, poking his head out of the locker room. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to bring rationality back. Either that, or I’m going to lose my shit on Roake. I’d bet neither of us would enjoy the consequences of that. So… I’ve got one option.