Page 158 of Traded

I have to get away. Somewhere quiet. Quiet, and dark, and safe.

Before he finds me.

My feet pound against the concrete as I take off down the opposite hall to the Titans’ space. I don’t know this area. It smells like fresh paint, the photos along the wall unfamiliar.

But the layout is the same.

My breath rasps as I stagger toward the very end, my hand reaching for a door that opens under my touch as my head spins and nausea churns my stomach.

My eyes skate over the shadows thrown by the light behind me before I pull the door closed, encasing myself in the darkness.

The air smells like cleaning fluid. Like my own skin, and another, quieter whimper loosens. My foot trips over a solid mass, my palms painfully breaking my fall.

Crawling as far as I can get, I curl myself up and wait.

The thunder of thousands moving in unison rolls across the floor above me as the arena empties out. I tear the scarf away,throwing it with a hand that shakes so badly my whole body trembles.

Shouts sound above the noise from upstairs as the Furnace slowly turns silent.

A beam flashes across my face as the door opens, and a tongue clicks. “Well, now. You must be Rosie.”

I vaguely make out a figure I don’t recognize. When I flinch back, he slowly lowers himself, angling so I can see his face in the faint light. Dark, bushy eyebrows swallow a pair of green eyes below a shock of grey hair. “Name’s Reid Masterson. Lot of people lookin’ for you, Rosie. Few of my players are a little worried.”

He keeps his eyes on my face. “You’re bleeding pretty badly. Mind if I go and get someone to help you? Boone?”

Slowly, I nod.

“That’s real good. Nice and slow, alright?” He straightens, groaning as his knees crack. “I’ll go and find him. He’s pretty desperate to see you.”

I nod again. I don’t think I’m capable of much else, but I manage a whisper. “Carter.”

“Reynolds?” A third nod. “Well, alright then. I’ll see what I can do.”

There’s a slow, lilting cadence to his voice that’s strangely reassuring.

“I don’t want to go with him,” I blurt as he turns to leave.

Reid Masterson pauses. “Would that be Reynolds?”

“Liam,” I choke out.

He gives me a long, assessing look. “I got two granddaughters. I’ll tell you what I tell them. You don’t have to do a single damn thing you don’t want to do. You hear me?”

I brace my hand over my mouth to cover my sob.

“Think there’s a lot of people here who’d make sure of that for you.” The Aces coach steps out, leaving the door ajar to let the light inside.

My head begins to pound. After a few minutes, I creep after him to look outside, pressing my face to the gap.

“Rosie!”

No.

Footsteps—so many footsteps—sound in the distance. I slam my hands over my mouth and back up as Liam appears in the doorway, shoving it open. His chest heaves as he pins his eyes on me, a deep crease in his forehead. “Fuck, baby, we’ve been looking everywhere.”

He holds out his hand to me. “I know you’re scared. Take my hand.”

I shake my head. Slowly at first, and then faster, the movements close to violent as I scramble back, out of his reach.