Page 51 of Your Sharpest Edge
I stepped back, and my hands were shaking as my phone rang twice before the operator picked up.
“What’s your emergency?”
I rattled off the name of the hotel and told her that someone in the room was hurt and shouting for help.
At this point, I was screaming in the hallway. Finally, I heard footsteps coming toward the front door from the other side as Dirks woke the other guys up on the floor in a desperate attempt to try and push the door open.
Still on the phone with the operator, I ran into my room and grabbed a lamp, yanking it from where it was plugged into the wall.
I sprinted back into the hallway with the lamp in one hand and the phone pressed to my ear with the other.
“Good idea,” Dirks shouted and went to his room to do the same.
Almost half the team was wide awake, pounding on the door. With everyone’s strength, we’d get the door open. I would fucking get inside that room, one way or another.
“He was so pissed,” one of our teammates muttered.
We all saw the way he was raging after the game.
Fuck, I had failed her. There was no way he’d just storm out when she told him she was leaving. I fucking knew it, and I let this happen.
“Move,” I shouted, centering myself on the door.
I pounded even harder, my fists aching from the effort. “Anastasia! Open the door!” I shouted, my voice breaking with fear.
No response. Only muffled sounds of distress.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I took a deep breath and swung at the doorknob, hoping to break it open, but I barely made a dent.
“Anastasia, hang on!” I yelled, my heart racing.
Putting all my strength into it, I swung again. A few of the guys flung their bodies against the door, urging the knob to break. On the third swing, the doorknob finally gave way.
As soon as the door opened, my mouth hung agape.
With my heart in my throat, I walked inside the dimly lit room, darting my eyes in every direction. On the other side of the room, her feet stuck out past the foot of the bed on the floor. The rest of her body was blocked from view, hidden between the bed and the wall. I needed to see her.
The sound of the guys coming in behind me was faint, but growing closer.
Someone screamed, “This was her fucking fault.”
But nothing else mattered. Time seemed to somehow slow and speed up as I made my way toward her.
“Help,” she whimpered.
Her voice was fragile and delicate, but at least she was speaking so she was okay.
I dropped to my knees the moment I got to her, sprawled on the floor. Blood covered her face. Her nose was in a different direction than it should have been. Her eyes were so purple and swollen shut that I knew she couldn’t see.
I tried... really fucking tried not to break down as I looked her over. A cut sliced across her lip. Her arms seemed okay, but her legs... Her left leg was bent in an unnatural direction. Both kneecaps were swollen and bruised.
“Motherfucker,” I whispered, not wanting to scare her.
I hovered my hands over her, fearing that if I moved her, somehow I’d make her injuries worse.
“Alex?” she whispered.
“I’m so sorry this time. It’s my fault. I should’ve been there. I listened for you, but I thought?—”
