Page 22 of Puck’N Enemy (Thunder Knights #2)

Logan

Half-asleep, I feel around the empty spot next to me. My eyes slowly blink open, making me realize Dylan’s not by my side.

A strange heaviness spreads through my chest even though I know Dylan decided to stay back at his place last night. Suppressing a yawn, I grab my phone, hoping to see a text from him.

To my disappointment, his usual cheesy “good morning, sleepyhead” is missing. There are no dumb heart emojis, either, that he liked sending me every morning.

I stare at the blank screen, wondering if he’s still asleep. His coach ran him and his teammates through a hardcore practice session last night, so maybe he’s just catching up on some extra rest.

Climbing out of bed, I get ready for school.

Once I’m done, I check my phone again, but there’s still no text from Dylan. Unease curls in my gut as I head into the kitchen and meet Mom and Maddie.

“How about you come and meet your baby cousin tomorrow?” Mom says as I eat a bowl of cereal.

“Sure, Mom,” I say distractedly, wondering if I’ll even be free tomorrow. Even though I let Dylan have his way last night, I’m not going to leave his side until Mitchikov tells me Pete is dead or back in jail.

“Do I need to drop Maddie off at school?” I ask, gazing up at Mom.

“You’ve got an early morning class, so you should get a move on,” Mom says, packing Maddie’s lunch box. “I’ll drive her to school today.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Getting up from my chair, I go over to her and give her a quick hug.

“Bye, Logan,” Maddie says from the table.

“Bye, squirt,” I say, grinning.

Heading out of the house, I check my phone again.

Still, no text.

My unease grows as I get behind the wheel. There’s no way Dylan would still be sleeping.

Putting my phone back in my jacket pocket, I step on the gas and head toward Knightswood University’s campus.

My phone continues to remain silent by the time I’m walking across campus toward my first class.

This isn’t like Dylan. He usually loves texting me right after he wakes up.

Maybe his phone died , I tell myself. Maybe he’s busy taking care of Coach Becker. Maybe—

I stop mid-step, my hand clenching around the strap of my bag.

No. Something’s wrong.

Dylan always texted me back. Even when he was busy, even if it was just a one-word message or a heart emoji, he’d always send me something.

His silence is starting to feel wrong.

I walk into class but through the entire lecture, I barely hear a word the professor says. I keep my phone under the desk, sending message after message to Dylan, hoping he’d reply to at least one of them.

By the time the class ends, my stomach is in knots.

Dylan didn’t reply to any of my messages.

Stepping outside into the hall, I dial Coach Becker’s number.

The line rings twice before the familiar, slightly tired voice answers. “Logan?”

“Hey, Coach,” I say, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracks. “Uh, is Dylan there? Did he stay with you last night?”

Coach hesitates for a beat. “No. He said he was spending the night with you.”

My heart drops. “What?”

“Dylan came home last night, ate some dinner, and then left the apartment, saying he’d be at your place. Why?”

I swallow hard, staring blankly at the people walking past me in the hallway. “Dylan...he never came.”

There’s silence on the other end before Coach’s voice lowers. “Logan. What’s going on?”

I have no answer. “I think he’s trying to get back at me for canceling our date yesterday,” I lie. “I’m sure he’s okay and in school right now.”

“Are you sure that’s what happened?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry to trouble you, Coach. I’ll try to get in touch with my boyfriend some other way.” With that, I hang up.

Cold panic settles like ice in my veins.

Dylan has disappeared and it’s my fault. I let my guard down and he got snatched away from me. I should’ve stayed with him last night and made sure he was safe from Pete’s traps.

“Whoa. Hey!”

My head snaps up as I collide with someone.

Mitchikov is standing in front of me, shaking a hand over my face. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, looking concerned. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

I try to say something but my throat is choked with panic and fear.

Mitchikov’s expression shifts. Stepping closer, he pulls me to the side and whispers, “Hey. What happened?”

I draw in a shaky breath. “It’s Dylan. He...he’s missing. He didn’t text me this morning and he won’t answer any of my calls or texts. He was supposed to be at his place last night, but he didn’t stay. He left.”

“Shit.”

“I shouldn’t have let him out of my sight,” I say, the words spilling fast now. “You told me to watch him but I got complacent. It’s all my fault—”

“Hey.” Mitchikov grabs my shoulders firmly. “Breathe. Panicking won’t help him.”

I look at him. “Pete’s got him. I know it.”

His eyes darken at the name. “Listen to me,” he says in a calm tone. “If Pete touched him, I’ll find out. My family’s already watching Pete’s every move. I’ll make some calls right now. But you need to hold it together, got it? Don’t lose your head.”

My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. Every muscle in my body screams at me to move. To run. To find Dylan.

But Mitchikov steps in my way. “No,” he says firmly, understanding the wild look in my eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Pavel, he’s out there. He could be—”

“I know,” he cuts in sharply. “But charging in blindly will only make it worse. You’ll get yourself killed or used as leverage. And then, Dylan’s really screwed.”

I clench my fists. “I can’t just stand here while he’s—”

“Yes, you can. You have to,” Mitchikov says firmly. “Listen to me. I’ll make some calls and find out Pete’s exact location. But you staying alive and staying calm is what’s going to save him. There’s no point in running around like a maniac only to be shot dead.”

Mitchikov’s words make me feel like I’ve been drenched in ice-cold water.

The reality of who Pete Volkov is and how easily he can kill me is unnerving.

Panic crawls under my skin. Sheer helplessness claws at my ribs, making it harder to breathe.

Mitchikov steps closer. “Logan, you’ve got to be strong right now,” he says in a gentler tone. “At least, for Dylan. Pete’s a reckless guy but he’s not stupid. He’s probably already expecting you to charge at him. Don’t give him that satisfaction.”

I silently stare at him, letting him see my desperation.

His eyes soften. “I get it,” he says in a lowered voice. “If it were someone I loved, I’d feel the same way. But you’ve got to play this smart. Trust me. I’m not letting Pete win. He’s already on thin ice with the higher-ups and this stunt will bury him.”

I clench my jaw. I hate waiting for something to happen while my mind keeps conjuring up scenarios where Dylan’s all alone in some dark warehouse, surrounded by Pete’s men.

But I know Mitchikov’s right. I can’t play into Pete’s trap and destroy all hope of saving Dylan.

Finally, with a low, shaky exhale, I nod. “All right. Okay. I’ll wait.”

Mitchikovs claps a hand on my shoulder. “Good. Sit tight. I’ll call my contacts and as soon as I know where he is, you’ll be the first to know. And then we’ll make our move.”

Swallowing hard, I nod. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he mutters, pulling out his phone.

I sink onto the edge of a nearby bench while he starts making the calls. Pressing my palms together, I close my eyes.

Hold on, Dylan , I silently pray. Be safe until I can reach you. I swear I’m coming to you.

Glancing over at Mitichikov, I realize how grateful I am to have him as a friend. His calm, steady presence is helping me stay focused instead of panicking and rushing into a trap.

Even though I’m stuck in a nightmare, I’m glad he’s by my side. Whether on the ice or off it, Mitchikov has my back.

I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly. It’s almost soul-crushing to wait for news because every second ticking by is another second Dylan is in danger.