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.
I look over at him. “I need your help.”
