Page 42 of Chaos & Corruption

“No…”

“What is it?” Robinson asks, but I can barely hear him over the ringing in my ears. A million thoughts flood my mind as I stare at the photo. I’m miles and miles away, without my car and a dead roommate lying at my feet.

I can’t get to her.

Can’t fucking save her.

I’m helpless and my beautiful girlfriend with the mismatched eyes is a victim.

Without giving it a moment’s hesitation, I pull up another contact in my phone and hit send. I barely give the man on the other end a chance to say hello.

“Riggs, it’s Alex, Victoria’s neighbor.”

“The football player.”

“Yeah, listen, Victoria is in a lot of trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

Detecting the fear in his tone, I close my eyes and force a swallow.

“The dead kind.”

Sixteen

Alex Reggiano

I’ve been consumedby pressure before and it’s not a good feeling. You sweat, your heart races and it feels like the world has been ripped out from under your feet. You have no concept of time, and everything plays out in slow motion. You can’t catch your breath—hell, you can’t even form a coherent thought. The sound of your pulse beating inside your head is the only sign of life.

Then in a blink of an eye it’s over.

Your heart rate slows, and you don’t feel like you’re suspended in air. Your feet are firmly planted in the endzone and the cheers from your fans fill your ears, taking the place of your erratic pulse.

That’s how it works when you’re running the ball for a winning touchdown, but it doesn’t quite work the same when you’re sitting in an interrogation room. When there is no end in sight and all you want is to do is crawl out of your own skin because miles away there is a girl—a girl you’re falling hard for, and she’s in grave danger.

Hell, she might even be dead.

I close my eyes—a feeble attempt to dismiss the thought, but it doesn’t work. My mind goes back to the text I received, to the picture of her lying so helpless in the dirt. Her clothes were tattered and torn and even in the dark of night, there was no mistaking the blood covering her body.

God only knows what happened to her.

Balling my fists, I rub my eyes.

I wish I could unsee that image, that I could bleach it from my memory.

I should be with her or at the very least, making my way to her, but instead I’m here sitting in an interrogation room. I don’t know if she’s dead or alive and it’s fucking killing me. I called her uncle, but I’m not sure that was smart on my behalf. It’s not like Stonewall is a hop, skip and a jump away from Staten Island. The right move would’ve been to call 9-11, the local authorities would’ve responded and notified her family. I could’ve even called Mila.

But I fucked up and for all I know, she can still be outside on the cold ground. I’m a realist so if that is true, if she’s still out there, the window to save her is closed and that’s on me.

Hell, this whole fucking thing is my fault.

I knew digging around the Scorpio Society was a bad idea, that the odds of us coming out of this thing unscathed were slim to none and yet I entertained it. I told myself Victoria was going to do it with or without my help, that she was safer with me as an ally. I’d keep her from going too far. From uncovering the things better left buried.

But I was kidding myself and now I’m just as guilty as the monster who put his hands on her. I

“Your teammate and to my understanding, roommate, is lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life and you have nothing to say.”

Tearing my hands away from my face, I lift my chin and stare at the detective who has been questioning me for what seems like days, though, in reality, it’s been about twelve hours.

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