I was being watched

Seraphina's POV 

Why was Adrian's security team taking pictures of me? 

I shook my head and turned away. Running would only make me look suspicious, so I walked quickly away from the crowd, keeping my head up despite my racing heart.

I didn't stop until the noise from the quad faded behind the nearby buildings.

I couldn't stop thinking about why the security guy would take a picture of me, what could he possibly want with me? 

I followed a narrow path between two buildings hoping to locate the blackhawk facility until I noticed a glass door at the end. Someone had left it open with a rubber stopper.

Without checking the sign beside it, I slipped inside and allowed the door to close behind me.

The temperature inside was much colder than the one outside. The hallway smelled of detergent and rubber. 

Bright fluorescent lights covered the ceiling, while framed photographs of men wearing navy jerseys hung along the walls. 

From somewhere beyond the hallway, I heard the sound of something hitting a hard surface. It sounded like a hockey puck striking the boards.

I paused in my tracks, glancing around the interior of the building. Shit! I must've entered the wrong building.

I turned around intending to leave, but before I could take another step, another door beside me swung open and someone rushed out of it crashing into me in the process.

My shoulder crashed into his chest and the impact sent my phone flying out of my hand and before I could come face to face with the marble floors, two strong hands caught my upper arms.

“Whoa! Easy. I've got you.” The owner of the hands exclaimed.

I pulled away immediately like his hands burned. “Don't touch me.” An irritated scowl escaped me before I could stop myself.

"Sorry." He stepped back at once, raising his palms with no trace of offense on his face. "I should have checked the door."

I finally looked up at him. He was so tall that I had to tilt my head sideways to get a proper look at his face. His dark hair was damp from sweat and he was wearing a navy training jacket with a wolf stitched over the heart.

He had a small towel hanging around his neck. Without saying anything else, he bent down and picked up my phone, checking for cracks before handling it back to me.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

"Thanks." I snatched it from his hand and shoved it into my pocket.

Then my eyes dropped to the wolf on his chest, then it slid past his shoulder to the framed photographs of hockey players celebrating with different trophies and my heart sank.

They were all wearing navy jerseys, every single one of them.

“This is the Blackhawks’ building.” The words rolled out of my mouth, sounding strained.

I had thought that maybe I could've at least waited for him at his facility since his security wouldn't let me get close to the quad.

“Not even close.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight wince. “The Blackhawks are on the east side, behind the athletic center. You're in the Wolves facility for players and staff only.”

“Damn it.” I cursed under my breath as I turned back towards the door. “I picked the wrong building.” I whispered under my breath, I had been in so much rush and didn't even know which direction I was taking.

“Are you looking for someone?”

I swallowed hard, not looking, I wanted to wait till he got back. “Just someone.” I murmured instead.

His eyes stayed on me briefly as if he was trying to study me, his expression was so neutral I could barely read what's in his head. 

“The name is Rhett,” he said warmly, offering out his hand.

I stared at his stretched hands without taking it.

A small smile touched the corner of his lips before it quickly disappeared. He lowered his stretched hand and slid it into his pocket.

Just then, his phone buzzed loudly against his pocket, he pulled it out, read through the screen before sliding it back inside looking unbothered.

“The Blackhawks entrance is the one with the black gates,” he returned back to me. “Who are you trying to find? I can at least tell you exactly where to find them if I know them.” He said. His warm brown eyes stayed steady on mine.

My gaze traveled over him without really meaning to, from his damp hair to his hockey jacket across his shoulders.

I almost let out a scoff but bit it back instead. He was another hockey player in a jersey who had probably never heard the word no from anyone who mattered and I was in no mood to explain myself to his type.

“Adrian Cross,” I said dryly and the name tasted like sandpaper on my tongue. 

Something shifted across Rhett's expression, his brows narrowed together and his eyes searched mind as if he was trying to understand something.

“I see,” his voice dropped lower than normal, almost like a whisper.

My eyes narrowed with a light frown. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” he murmured,  his eyes glanced toward the end of the corridor where another pick cracked against the boards, when his eyes returned back to me, his expression had returned back to normal. “Just be careful. Security around them is tighter than usual this week, with the rivalry on. They aren't exactly welcoming to people who show up unannounced.”

“I'll manage.”

“I'm sure you will.” He shifted his weight, and for a second his knuckles pressed briefly against his chest before he let his hand fall. “Whatever you're planning, don't do it alone, and don't do it in the open. Adrian isn't the easiest person to approach. Let's leave it there.”

*Let's leave it there.*

The word sounded strange. 

 I looked him over again, slower this time, from his shoes to his shoulders. A hockey player advising me on how to handle another hockey player.

 It almost made me laugh. After everything I had learned about boys in jerseys, I would rather trust a toddler who thinks pigs can fly than trust a hockey guy.

“Thanks for the advice,” I said, forcing an obviously tight smile.

“Take it or leave it.”He didn't seem bothered. He glanced at the clock above the door, and something steady and focused settled over his face, like a man mentally returning to a much bigger job. “I should get back. I've got a season to play and a coach who counts minutes. There isn't much room in my schedule for anything else right now.”

He said it lightly, but something sat under it that I couldn't name but there was something about the way he said it.

I pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold afternoon without looking back. Rhett didn't call after me, and I was glad. I wanted no one's concern right now.

*East of the athletic center. Black gates.* 

I repeated it under my breath as I walked past one building, then another, until I reached the corner of the walkway and lifted my head.

The man in the dark jacket was leaning against the brick wall at the far end, his earpiece wire curling behind

his ear, the same flat, patient look on his face.

 It was the guard from the rally. He didn't look surprised to see me. He looked like he'd been waiting for me.

His gaze moved past me to the wolf above the entrance I had just left. Then he lifted his phone, and I heard the shutter click.

"Welcome to Westbridge, Miss Vale," he said, calmly, and walked away.

I stood there until his footsteps faded. *Miss Vale.* His voice stayed in my head.

How did he know my name