“Well, as long as you’re self aware,” she replies.
She watches closely as I begin to walk out of what is clearly her home, and Richards darts around her to open the door.
“This better not be a mistake,” he breathes.
“It’s not,” I mutter. “Thanks for the assist. Don’t be surprised when we don’t surface for a few days. I’ll let Coach know.”
Richards curses a blue streak as I exit through the front door, and I relax a tiny bit, knowing I have my omega.
While he sleeps peacefully, I’ll enact the rest of my plan.
I don’t know why he bothers to run. I’ll always find him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KOEN
Groaning, I ask myself why I drank so much whiskey at Olsson’s house. My eyelashes feel as if they’re glued together, my head is pounding, and my entire body is throbbing.
Fuck, this sucks. Not only is my life imploding, now it seems my body is trying to manifest that pain physically.
Great job, Koen.
Olsson picked me up off the side of the road when I decided to just start walking, and then proceeded to yell at me for being so stupid. I suppose walking in a snowstorm without a plan wasn’t smart, I just needed to get the fuck out. By the time he got to his house, he started flipping out because I wouldn’t say anything except that I needed to get out of Minnesota.
Do I want to get traded for being so dumb as to get involved with my teammates? No, but what other choice is there?
Olsson stole my phone from me so I wouldn’t text my agent to get the ball rolling, and I stopped talking completely at that point.
The tears just kept flowing without a word, and I continued to be a mess once I was ushered into Olsson’s house. I ignored the snow falling harder, too worried about the crushing pain I was feeling. I didn’t want to go home, so anywhere else was better than there.
I met his grandmother for a second, and it forced me to stuff down some of my meltdown. Unfortunately, that meant I needed liquor to stay that way, and Richards brought me whiskey without a word.
I’m not sure why they live with Olsson’s grandmother, but she’s very sweet. I’m sure there’s a story there, I was just too upset to ask.
Ugh, I’m a terrible friend.
Blinking furiously, I struggle to get my eyelashes to unglue themselves. I feel very sluggish, and even thinking is more difficult than normal.
Ugh, why can’t I touch my face? Are my hands stuck?
Wiggling like a fish, I look down and behind me to find I’m in a bed I’ve never been in before. Not only that, the bed is in some kind of living area in a cabin, and my wrists are tightly tied to the headboard.
“What the fuck?” I rasp. My mouth tastes like cotton and ass, and it’s not even yummy ass.
Coughing due to the dryness, I wonder if I pissed Olsson off enough with my depressive state that he sold me to someone. Who to, I have no fucking idea.
Who the fuck wakes up in a cabin tied up to a bed? Clearly, only me.
The front door opens to allow a rush of cool air in. It floods the front room and makes me shiver, making me aware of how warm it was before this. I’m no longer wearing my suit, but instead my sweats from my closet.
Someone changed my clothes…
My heart begins to join the pounding of my head as I catch a glimpse of the alpha walking into the cabin. I’m kidnapped, but not by Olsson, and not because he fucking sold me to some psychopath.
Well, the psychopath part still remains to be seen as Skylar closes the door behind himself.
“Hey, Little Viking. How’s your head?” he asks.
