Page 47 of These Wicked Hearts

Not that Knox isn’t trying or he isn’t a good captain. He is, you can see it in the way everyone listens to him when he talks. The thing is, leadership trickles down, and if it’s broken at the top, the cracks start showing.

Right now, this close to puck drop, our coach would be in the locker room with us trying to keep our heads clear. The Vipers coach is sitting alone in his office, waiting for us to go out there and win the game for him. Not us, not our team or fans. Him.

Coach Grady doesn’t see players, he sees pieces. Pawns on his chessboard. Disposable.

Knox claps his hands, snapping my attention up. “Alright, guys.” We all quiet as he speaks. “This is nothing new, right? The Otters know how we fight, that we don’t quit. We’re fast, clean, and fucking together. Don’t get dragged into dumbass fights. Keep the penalties to a minimum. You know Oli’s going to antagonize the shit out of us. This is our first game with them since playoffs, and I want to remind them why we’re the fucking team to beat. Bring it in.”

All the guys get up and go to the center of the room. I look back and see Rome slowly stand before joining us. “It’s time to show the fuck up,” he says. “For each other.”

“For each other,” everyone echoes, then we break.

The music starts to cut through the room, and just like that, it’s time.

ELEVEN

Gage

As soon as I step inside my room, I feel like something is wrong. I can’t explain it, but it’s like this ghost is haunting me, trying to warn me of impending doom. I set my bags down, and although it’s quiet in here, I can’t help feeling like I’m not alone.

The lamp beside the bed is on for one, which is weird.

The door clicks behind me, and I spin around and see Jim there in the doorway. Jim’s nearly fifty, but he looks like he could be in his early to mid-forties.

“There you are.”

My chest tightens. I don’t like the way he speaks to me. He talks to me like I’m small, like I’m some fragile little thing he has to keep his voice steady around, careful not to spook me. He’s always nice at first.

He steps closer and the room begins to shrink, the walls pressing in around me the closer he gets to me. “Jim, I um, I told Chen⁠—”

“Your friends already went out.” What is he talking about? Why would they go out without me? “I told them you weren’t feeling well.”

My throat tightens. I eye the door and wonder if I can slip past him.

Jim keeps talking, but I’m trying to figure out how to get out of this. He said once. Just once. This is the sixth, or is it seventh time he’s gotten me alone on the road. Would I have done this if I’d known he’d keep going? He said once, but once has already passed. There’s no relief from this.

We nearly sold out our last show.

My friends are fed, warm, and living their dreams.

No, we’re living our dreams, right? Isn’t this what we always wanted?

Something cold wraps around my hand, and I startle realizing it’s his fingers.

Inside me everything freezes. It’s like my body shuts down and my mind goes away somewhere quiet during. It freaked me out the first time. Now it’s second nature. It’s like my mind hides somewhere, my brain blocking out the things he does to me. I’d say it’s to protect me, but once it’s over those thoughts crash down around me until I can’t take it. It’s affecting how I write. I noticed that after last time. Words aren’t coming as easy as they used to.

Worst thing is, sometimes I don’t even feel like writing at all, but when I do, only darkness pours out onto the page. Luckily Chen has stepped up more to help write. Jesper and Declan too. Bouncing ideas around with them is the only time I feel sane.

Jim smiles, slow and sickening. A knowing smile. The smile of a predator who knows their prey is as good as dead.

“Just you and me, Gage. No one to bother us.” No one to save me.

The words hit like a face full of ice water. My heart begins to pick up, and I don’t know what I can do. The walls begin to fade, the floor disappearing beneath my feet. It’s like this black hole swallows me completely.

“You’re so good for me, Gage.”

I wake with a start, my head lifting to look around my apartment. I’m lying on the couch. I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but my notebook is still draped across my chest.

I’ve sat in my apartment all day today, restless and unable to do anything but think about last night, the show, and this morning. The apartment feels a hell of a lot smaller than it did days ago. It’s still the same. Same kitchen, living room, couch, but something in the air has shifted.