Page 142 of Devious Obsession
He pulls away, chuckling when I try to follow him.
“Go home,” he laughs. “And tell Thalia to text me when you’re with her so I know you’re okay.”
I wave him off.Because walking two blocks is going to kill me.
Crown Point, or at least this neighborhood, is surprisingly calm for the impending game day. The weather is taking another turn, the temperature dropping, but not enough for me to freeze to death. The sun is still out, although low in the hazy, periwinkle sky. It’ll be completely dark by the time the game starts.
My skin prickles when I’m halfway home.
I glance over my shoulder, but no one is there. I shake it off and continue, my gait a little more rushed. Because okay, even if Idon’thave a stalker, I don’t really love the idea of ignoring instincts. Right?
Right.
I make it to my apartment in record time, locking myself in.
“Thalia?” I call. “Are you still home?”
Silence.
I groan and drop my purse on the island, double-checking her room just to make sure. Her door is propped open, her bed perfectly made. And no trace of her.
Great.
I go into the bathroom and perform some life-saving miracles on my hair, somehow managing to make it curl and shine without rewashing it. Sure, it maysmelllike lake water mixed with detangling spray. If anything, it’ll help keep over-rowdy assholes at bay.
Not that I’ve ever had to worry about that.
I remove my makeup and start over, then reach automatically for my phone to check the time. Grimacing to myself, I retrace my steps into the kitchen. The digital clock on the stove informs me that I have an hour till game time.
How I wasted so much time is beyond me.
Focus.
Back to my bedroom for my shoes—
A breeze ruffles my hair. I stop and stare at my open window. Confusion hits me first, then the fear.
Something moves behind me.
Someone.
Before I can turn around, a black fabric bag descends over my head. And with it, the smell of something chemical. I fight the inhale and try to push it off, but the edges go tight against my throat. My fingers scramble uselessly.
My head swims. My knees buckle.
Whatever is on the bag goes straight to my head—and lulls me into the darkness.
43
STEELE
Ifinish my stretches on the ice and return to the locker room. I drop my helmet on the bench beside me and grab my phone from my bag, checking my messages for the hundredth time.
Nothing.
I glance across the room at Greyson, trying not to go to Worst-Case Scenario. Maybe Aspen didn’t link up with her roommate yet. Or Thalia forgot. Or maybe she doesn’t have my number, and—
“You okay?” Miles sits beside me, kicking his legs out wide. His gaze is on his brother, who’s fooling around with Finch in the middle of the room.
