Page 9 of Taking Over the Dark
It’s been thirty-six hours since they’ve been taken. Marcello and the guys are doing everything possible to find them, but we still haven’t heard a peep out of anyone. We lost any trace of the car they were taken in because somebody wiped the camera footage for the whole goddamn city and even deleted miles outside of Vegas. It’s like the car fell off the face of the earth, and it’s sending Noah into an all out rage. From what Marcello says, Noah is one of the best he’s seen, but whoever is working with the people who have Ellie and Nash might have a leg up…
?*Alex has gone radio silent, so we have no clue what Agron’s been up to. Alex didn’t know much more of what’s going on anyways, with our dads supposedly being in Vegas. Before all of this started, Alex and I were just checking in with updates about what’s been going on in Chicago. But it’s been quiet on the East Coast, too. Probably because our fathers have been plotting this up for a while now. How we haven’t crossed paths here in Vegas at all, I’ll never know.
I’ve been staying in Marcello’s apartment with him. He says it’s to keep an eye on me because of all the shit that’s happened and him still not trusting me. But I think it’s mostly the fact thathe’s avoiding coming to terms with the fact that Nash and Ellie have been missing for longer than a day.
“Z!” I’m laying in the guest bed and actively ignoring Marcello yelling for me, knowing he’ll walk his broody ass in here to see if I’m okay or not. “Zamir Prifti!” Still ignoring him, I lace my hands behind my head and smile at the ceiling. “Zamir, we need to change your fucking bandage before you head out to practice.”
“What did I say the other day, Marcello?”
He ignores my question, ambling into the ensuite to get all the supplies to change the cover I have over my brand. I think in some deep, twisted part of Marcello, he truly does love taking care of people. He shows it in a way that most would find repulsive.But I can’t help smiling at the crazed man as he walks over to me with his arms full of medical supplies.
My chest and bandage is already on display from sleeping shirtless last night. He sets all his supplies down on the nightstand beside me, turning to me, and gently removing the bandage he meticulously placed before we both went to bed.
Being this close to Marcello is the true gift. I openly admire his shockingly beautiful face. He has the chiseled bone structure that most people would beg a plastic surgeon for, but it’s his eyes that always draw me in. The color is so pretty it physically hurts me when I have to look away. The transparent blue has always scared me a little in combination with the flecks of white that sparkle in his irises. When he looks at me, I feel as though my secrets aren’t safe from his all-knowing gaze. His pristinely shaven facial hair accentuates his perfectly shaped jaw, and matches the black of his hair at the top of his head. Never a goddamn strand out of place. Factor in his obsessive personality for the ones he’s lusting over… I’ve truly never seen a prettier man.
Nothing can take my brain away from the bandage being pulled off of the huge wound over my heart. The best representation of what my heart feels like not knowing if Ellie and Nash are okay.
A freshly blistered, bleeding burn.
“We have to keep this clean, especially after your practice. I promise you don’t want it getting infected.”
“There’s no way I’m going to practice, Cello,” I argue.
“Yes, you are. If you don’t, they’ll be suspicious of what’s going on.” His stern, don’t-fuck-with-me tone, sends a shiver down my spine, and my dick pays close attention.
This is not the time…
“They’re going to know something’s up when their star quarterback isn’t there,” I snip back.
“I’ve already called the owner and manager, letting them know Nash is here with me and is under the weather. Even let them know Doc is seeing him and is currently hooked up to an IV with vitamins and anything else he may need to get his body back in playing shape after whatever virus got ahold of him.” His ass did think of everything… How do I argue with that?
This doesn’t feel right…
?*I shouldn’t be walking into the facilities without annoying the fuck out of Nash.
I miss him.
I miss Ellie.
I want all of us back together. I’m ready to beg anyone and everyone for answers, needing to know they’re safe.
Practice today is going to be hell.
I can already feel my throat tightening and my nose starts to burn as I enter the locker room and see the empty space where Nash should be. Thankfully, we’re in a bye week, so today will mainly be conditioning and running through plays.
Heading for the practice field, I pass Wilson, a lineman, on the way. But once we’ve passed each other, I can still feel his eyes on the back of my head. As I walk through the doors to the field, Coach is yelling about updates. I’m half-ass listening, but then I hear him say, “Nash has a nasty virus and is at home recovering. So Smith is going to be running the offense today.” Great, the old fuckers going to be in charge. He doesn’t even know the offense even after years of being on the team.
Coach’s nonchalant voice makes me want to scream, but I’ve got to keep it together forNash. I know he wouldn’t want anyone finding out about what is happening, and Marcello covering for him will only work for so long…
We go through the motions, warming up, stretching, sprinting drills, then I’m on the line waiting for the dumbass to call his cadence. It’s not fun when Nash isn’t the one making me chuckle with the “dilly willy.” After his third pass landing ten feet behind me, I sprint back to Smith on the line and I’m in his face, screaming, “Do you watch film or practice at all? You’re too fucking old to be this bad!” He’s in his thirties, which isn’t old, but in football—it is. And when you’ve been playing the sport since you could walk, there’s no goddamn excuse for this man. I don’t know how he isn’t embarrassed, but he chills on the bench and makes millions while Nash does all the actual work.
“Prifti!” I hear Coach barking my name, but I keep going.
“They should’ve traded you and got an actual backup quarterback. You’re as worthless as a sac—” I’m cut off by Coach grabbing my shoulder and whirling me around like I’m nothing more than a rag doll. It still shocks me how strong he still is.
You act like he wasn’t a star quarterback not that long ago…
“Leave Smith alone! What the fuck is your issue with the quarterbacks, Prifti?”