Page 305 of Wrong Pucking Player

“She wanted to call you, Wyatt. Trust me. However, neither your nor Leo’s phones are blocked from being picked off Fernadez's radar. He knew this and used it against her by saying she couldn’t contact either of you, or he’d slit Katherine’s throat.”

“He still slit her wrists without remorse.”

“He has a vendetta against Katherine.”

“He has a vendetta against everyone!”

“Wyatt...”

“You don’t get it, Oscar. My frustration hasn’t simply stemmed from this. My whole life has been tormented by this person who should have been my best friend. Should have had my back through thick and thin. I care about it, Oscar. Who knows, maybe I would have been more than just friends with him. His father ruined everything. Our friendship. My future as a bodyguard. He stole my mom from me, and now, despite what his father did, Frankie wants to steal the woman I love as well. What’s fucking next?”

The lingering silence emphasizes his statement, making one feel for his predicament.

“I understand, Wyatt. I get it.” There’s a low sigh. “We’ve been authorized that if we see Fernandez, we can apprehend him by any means necessary.”

“I’ll do more than apprehend him.”

“Wyatt.”

“She wasn’t breathing, Armani.” The complete absence of emotion from this statement sends chills through me. “Not one fucking breath. It didn’t matter what either of us did. Compressions. Breaths. She went so long without oxygen to her brain, she… we don’t know what she’s going to be like when she wakes up. If the ambulance hadn’t come with that defibrillator, we would have lost her, Oscar. Then what? Would you sit there and tell me to simply apprehend this bastard?”

There’s no reply, as the ongoing quietness in the room is almost daunting. If it wasn’t for the purrs that buzzed from the left side, I’d assume I fell asleep.

“I’ll be at the hospital in an hour or less.”

“Cool. I’ll buzz you in.”

A beep follows, and another sigh makes me worry.

My hand is wrapped in warmth before lifting up, and something tender presses against my very palm.

“Kenzie. I need you to come back, Kitten.” The immense plea in his voice makes my heart ache in agony. “Everything’s a fucking mess right now, and everyone’s worried. I know you didn’t leave us for a reason. You fought to come back and be with us. Please, wake up soon.”

The squeeze of my hand is everything, the warmth emphasizing his words and what he’s begging from me.

My body is losing the battle, though.

The exhaustion is back, wrapping me in a blanket that steals me away before I can stop it.

“Sofiya.”

The soft touch to my cheeks follows with quiet sobs that make me sad.

Who is this woman crying?

“This isn’t the way I wanted both of you to meet your daughter again, but Fernandez made a move before there was an official warrant for his arrest after his illegal associations and involvement with drug trafficking alongside Winchester. I apologize.”

“Don’t you go apologizing when that spoiled brat of a bastard did this. You’ve done everything in your power to protect our child since she returned to Strattonville. We had tabs on her when she was in Toronto, but the moment she came back to this small town, every chance was intercepted. If you and the Salvatores hadn’t interfered and sponsored us to come here, we never would have made it out of Moscow, nor would our child be able to leave the country without flagging Fernandez and anyone else working alongside him. This was the safest route, despite the delays.”

“Is it safe for us to assume our Sofiya is somewhat important to you?”

“I love her.” Hearing those affirmed words makes my heart swell like a balloon filled with warmth. “I always assumed she was unobtainable, not because of our family bloodlines, but because she wasn’t looking my way. I assumed she’d pick the wrong person. The wrong player in this field of hockey. I didn’t stand a chance at that time, and we didn’t get along in the slightest.”

The low chuckle feels sentimental.

“The internship changed that, and the moment my brother wanted me to invite her to our family dinner, I decided it would be my duty to locate her family. Her real family. I’m sure you understand our family dinners are realistically once a year, with Christmas being an exception, depending on multiple factors. I had a feeling similar traditions are upheld in Moscow with the elite families there, so I hoped to get it done.”

“But the family dinner happens in November during Thanksgiving.”

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