Saving Bennett Reid (Book 3)

Woeful Descent

(Carter)

Something was incredibly wrong, and I could no longer ignore that churning feeling I'd gotten minutes into the fourth quarter.

I had to go to him.

I'd been keeping tabs on him throughout the game, despite the many times I'd wanted to run off field and go to him when my control started slipping. Thus, I had seen exactly when he and Alister left the stands and had taken way too long to return.

I sensed and felt his fluctuating emotions, ranging between potent anger and disgust. Then came the moment I knew something was very wrong. I'd caught a glimpse of Whitney running up the stands for she looked shaken and disheveled, watching as she found Tucker amongst the crowd. She said something to him and immediately, both Tucker and Jaxon popped up from their seats and made way for the school building.

Not long after that, I'd felt the tipping point of his fear. Torn between leaving the game and finding him, I knew what was most important, yet I couldn't get away without getting yelled at. Glancing back to the scoreboard, I took note of the time.

With only seconds left on the clock, it didn't matter if we scored or not, we'd still win. The ball was headed my way, launched into midair by the team's center. Moving back, the ball fell into my grips, my mind elsewhere but muscle memory had me pushing on further in the game.

I zipped past incoming Greyhounds, my eyes already scanning the field for another teammate. Somebody who was open and would be able to seal our fate.

Dodging left as a Greyhound jumped for the ball, I spotted Blake running alongside me. He was in the clear, and with his speed, he'd no doubt take us home.

This was it.

Glancing onto my left, another teammate tackled a Greyhound, keeping me in the clear so I checked Blake once more. He seemed to catch on, bolting ahead as I slowed my advance. The crowd went wild as I launched the ball in Blake's direction. It went spinning through the air like a bullet headed directly where I intended, and he caught the ball with ease.

Blake turned around the moment the ball fell into his grip and hauled ass over the short distance. I lingered for only a moment longer to ensure that he was closing in on the touchdown in ease before making a stealthy retreat. With the crowd going wild, cheers of victory rising up throughout the stands, and the other players distracted by the win or lose, it took nothing for me to run off field and through the tunnel that led into the school building without going noticed.

Shrugging off my helmet, I ran through the hallways, feeling him moving further away from me. Since we had consummated our bond, I sensed his physical presence a thousand times stronger than I did before.

Where was he going?

Uncertainty, fear, and dread pooled in the dead pit of my stomach and I knew something was wrong.

His presence was fading, making me push forward as if my life depended on ensuring he was safe and sound. The sounds of chaos met my ears the further I ran into the building, turning around another corridor.

I followed the sounds of chaos, pulling up short as I rounded into another hallway with lockers on both sides, my breath catching in my throat at the sight that met me. Blood covered the floor in small pools. Rogues laid up dead, some of them harboring wounds that bled profusely, and the living others were struggling to get away as members of the units by dad had organized restrained them.

Further down the corridor, some members of those same units were running through the building as though Cerberus were on their collective asses. And overseeing the apprehension of the rogues left alive was Kosta Kabanov.