“Shit. What do you need me to do?”

“Check the lounge. He said it was locked, that they were knocked out, but there has to be a trainer here somewhere. Or fuck, I don’t know. Get Coach? Any staff out there? Just get me a goddamn doctor.”

Alix took off while I tugged the strap of my helmet off and threw it to the floor.

Jesus. My head was spinning. With my gaze on Lincoln, making sure the asshole didn’t move, I tore off my jersey and pads, and shoved my jersey over the blood gushing from my bicep. Fuck. It hurt like someone shoved a cattle brand into my skin.

It was seconds. Minutes. Hours as I kneeled on the floor before Alix returned, followed by a half-dozen people, and then all hell broke loose.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

On the screen, Emmersyn cried, hair a mess and cheeks streaked with tears. “I was so scared. They said there was a shooting, and I couldn’t get a hold of you, and the women didn’t know what was going on.”

Strands of dark hair were plastered to her cheeks. Emmersyn paced my kitchen, and in the background was an opened bottle of wine on the counter.

I was taken via ambulance to the hospital. A deep graze to my bicep and ten stitches later, and I was now in a hospital emergency room, waiting to be released after talking to a handful of police officers who followed the ambulance.

The arena was shut down and the game was canceled. I had no idea what they did with the crowds, but shortly after I was brought in, our team’s crew followed. I’d heard Rohypnol mentioned and almost used my good arm to punch a hole through the wall.

Fucking Lincoln. How in the hell had he gotten inside? Not only not being noticed with as strung out as he’d been, but with a gun, for fuck’s sake. Even players had to go through security.

“Hey. Emmersyn. Take a deep breath and look at me, okay?”

Her phone shook as she shoved wet hair off her cheeks and sniffed. “You were hurt. I got you hurt.”

“Fuck that. None of that’s on you. It’s on Lincoln, and he’s currently enjoying a nice overnight stay in the county jail and hopefully longer.” Not actually true, but hopefully would be soon. He was brought to the hospital to have his head wound treated, courtesy of Alix’s stick, but I’d heard there were police guarding whatever room he was in. He’d already been arrested. They were waiting for transport, but knowing he wasn’t in jail would only make Emmersyn worry more. “And I’m fine. A few stitches. Give me a week, and I’ll be good as new.”

“Your games…” She sniffed and grabbed a tissue and wiped her face.

“I’ll miss a couple. No big deal.” The curtain was shoved back and a police officer, followed by our coach, Vik Boucher, walked in. I looked at Emmersyn. “I need to go. Coach is here, but I’ll be home soon.” I arched a brow at Vik. “I assume I’ll be flying home?”