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Chapter twenty-seven

Kit

I whistle as I walk into the locker room. Raider and Wren are in the gym working out, but I don’t need them for this. Evans was kind enough to sneak me in. I just need, ah, here it is.

I pull out one of Raiders’ old uniforms. She’s going to love it. When she has the chance to get on the ice next week, she is going to be so happy.

I walk out and pause when I see Ainsel. He stomps over to me and shoves a bag into my hands.

“These will help. You’re a good one, Kit. This was a good idea.”

I look in and see the skates. I mask my surprise and smile at the old man who's been working for the Demons since they were created. “Thank you!”

Ainsel mutters angrily and walks off, but I can tell by the way his shoulders relax their rigid line that he’s pleased. He’s gruff, but the equipment manager has a heart of pure gold. He spent many an hour talking to me while I practiced the whole being out in public thing, keeping me calm, and making sure I was safe when my alphas couldn’t. Seeing him smile is rare, but I remember the day I earned my first one from him. All it took was making it through a whole practice without freaking out. I worked hard for that win, and I’ll always be glad I had someone to share it with.

I’ve got her skates and one of Raider’s sweaters. I think my surprise is almost ready.

It’s a small thing, this gift, but she hasn’t been on the ice since her dad died. I want to make this up to her. Give her this opportunity to make new memories.

I wave to security as I head out of the stadium and into the huge car park .

I’m halfway to my car when I get this weird feeling and pause in the middle of the road. My scalp prickles, and my stomach bottoms out.

I’m sure I’m being watched. No, it’s just my paranoia. No one is watching me. Don’t be ridiculous, Kit.

Is this how Ryann feels all the time?

I walk quicker, but it just makes the feeling all the more intense. All the hairs on my body stand on end, and I have to resist the urge to run to the car. I just know if I run, I’ll trigger an attack and be useless. I need to get home.

I focus on Callan and Ryann waiting for me at home and walk quicker. I’m still not running, but it’s close.

My mind plays tricks, telling me there are people behind cars, waiting in the shadows. I remember those days of being beaten up, of rounding a corner to find them waiting for me. That feeling of panic where you look left and right and realise there is no way to escape. I know better than anyone that your size and designation doesn’t guarantee you protection. I’ve seen those bullies try and almost succeed in taking down Raider. Only a teacher's timely intervention prevented what might very well have been fatal.

Sometimes, sheer numbers overwhelm even the best of intentions. Sometimes, you just have to take punches and pray you’ll survive.

I get to my car and pull out my keys, but I drop them. It’s such a small thing, but it takes me right back to that locker room.

Callan is screaming from inside one of the lockers. At least he’s safe. But I’m getting shoved up against the metal, wet towels thud into my back. A hand slides between my legs and squeezes my dick until I let out a high-pitched shriek.

NO! I escaped. I won. I grew up.

I grab the keys and unlock the car with shaking hands. I climb in and lock the door, sitting there for a minute, trying to calm my heart rate. My mouth is dry, and I feel sick and woozy. I rest my head on the steering wheel and put a hand against my heaving chest.

Fuck. I thought I was over those memories.

Tears gather in the corners of my eyes. I feel so weak, so pathetic. I hate these episodes.

When I’m composed enough, I start the car and leave the car park. It’s not night, but it’s the time when most people have found their homes, so there’s no one on the road when I notice the car in the rear-view mirror following me.

There is a car following me.

I wasn’t wrong.

I inhale deeply, suddenly, my eyes getting so wide they ache, my whole body breaking out in tingles.

I shake it off, but my eyes keep straying back, and as the car inches closer, I get that familiar sense of dread.

“Don’t have an attack. Don’t freak out. Don’t lose it,” I chant.

I speed up a little, but it keeps up with me. A black, ominous shape in the golden light at the end of the day. I’m too far from home and too far from the stadium.

Just be cool, be calm. Drive safely. Call Callan, and it will all be okay.

With a sweaty hand, I reach for my phone, but I knock it onto the passenger seat floor.

“FUCK!” My shout is loud enough to hurt my ears. I let out a sob and press the accelerator a little.

I glance back up, but I can’t see an actual person in the mirror. He’s just a dark shape in a black vehicle.

Is it him?

Is it Ryann’s stalker or is it someone else?

I depress the accelerator more, desperate to escape, but it only gives me a few seconds before he catches back up. This time, he sits so close up my ass I’m scared he’s going to hit me. And now we’re speeding. Where are the cops when I need them?

I indicate to turn and slow down. He falls back, and when I turn; he does, too.

Now I know for certain, there are no more doubts, no question. This guy is following me. I can no longer deny it.

I swipe at the tears and try to come up with a plan, but my mind is empty except for the growing panic and memories I’ve been running from forever.

“Get it together, Kit. Ryann needs you!”

I swallow hard and put all my efforts into focusing on trying to lose him. I go down the side streets. On the main roads, I throw U-turns and lead him on a merry chase around the neighbourhood. I backtrack. I turn quickly, but he stays with me. Persistently.

And then, he must get bored because he speeds up and catches up, sitting right behind me, almost touching.

“Fuck!” I howl. “What do you fucking want?”

As if he can hear me, he drops back, and then suddenly accelerates. The corner of his car touches mine, and I’m spun around, wildly grabbing at the steering wheel and trying to save myself.

The car rocks to a stop, and I peel open my eyes. I’m surprised I’m alive. Surprised that I’m not in a wreck.

I turn my head to the side and just see the black SUV and the mysterious stranger disappearing around a corner .

I put my head on the steering wheel and gasp, fighting for air. The panic attack that didn’t quite grab me earlier gets a choke hold on my throat and throws me into the horror that was my past.

I don’t know how long I sit there.

The phone rings, jolting me out of it. Still, it takes me a few goes to let go of the steering wheel and lean over and grab it off the floor.

“Callan?” I whisper. “Callan, I need you.”