Page 122 of Seen Knot Heard

When Holden brought me breakfast this morning, he mentioned Dominic was working in the office above the garage today. I hate that I’ve been avoiding the guys since Louie made his threat, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know what to say to them, and I’m afraid that I won’t be able to hide Louie’s threats. They’ll sacrifice themselves to save me. I know they will, and I can’t let them. There’s too much at stake.

So instead, I lie and tell them I’m caught by the muse and working, when in reality, I’ve been hiding in my room, caught in a panic spiral.

In the last two days, though, the only solution I’ve been able to come up with requires facing Dominic. I need him to review the publisher’s contract, to tell me it’ll be enough to pay back Nathaniel’s father and save the pack from whatever twisted schemes Louie has devised to sabotage the resort opening on time.

I open the door to the office. “Dom? Do you have a minute?”

My heart sinks when I step inside and find the room empty. Late afternoon sunlight slants through the windows, painting the desk and sitting area in gold, while the faint scent of citrus and musk lingers in the air.

Dominic was here recently. But he’s not here now. Maybe he stepped out for a second?

I shuffle toward the desk, where a lamp illuminates a stack of paperwork and rolled blueprints, with only a small square section at the center left clear. No wonder he spreads out on the coffee table in the sitting area. There’s no room to breathe at the desk, though it’s clear he works here, too. A whiteboard covered in Dominic’s neat scrawl hangs on the wall behind it, and I picture him designing in this space.

A folder rests in the cleared area on the desk, open as if Dominic had been reading it moments ago. Curiosity tugs me forward, my fingertips skimming the smooth surface of the desk as I pause beside it, the wood warm to the touch.

I shouldn’t snoop, I know that. But the writer in me can’t resist.

With a furtive check over my shoulder, I lean in for a better look.

Recognition hits me like a punch to the gut.

It’s the contract Nathaniel and Blake signed with Nat’s father for the loan on the resort. My pulse quickens as I skim the legalese, and dread pools in my stomach. This is so much bigger than I thought. So much worse.

A notepad sits beside the contract, covered in Dominic’s handwriting. At the top, he’s written and underlined “Buyout Clause?” Beneath it, a complex series of equations and notes fill the page as he tries to figure out an escape route. A way to save his pack if the resort doesn’t open.

And as I stare at the numbers, reality crashes over me in a suffocating wave.

My trilogy bonus isn’t enough. Not even close. Hell, it wouldn’t even put a dent in this. With sickening clarity, I realize that if my measly seven figures could have gotten them out of this mess, my Alphas would have found a way already. They wouldn’t still be struggling like this, risking everything.

For the first time, I grasp the true scope and cost of this project. The millions upon millions tied up in it. The astronomical debt they’ve taken on. All to build a dream that could be ripped away in an instant if Louie follows through on his threat.

My legs wobble, and I grip the edge of the desk, the wood biting into my palms. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

Despair crashes over me as I realize I can’t fix this. My money can’t buy them out. I’m truly only a threat to their success.

A broken sound escapes me, half sob, half gasp, and I press my fist to my mouth, trying to hold back the emotion threatening to overtake me, to keep the panic at bay.

But it’s no use.

Because no matter how many zeroes are attached to my bank account, I can’t save the people I love most. Can’t keep my world from shattering around me.

In the end, I’m just a silly Omega who tells silly stories and doesn’t live in reality.

And Louie knows it.

The office door swings open, and I force myself to straighten, to choke down the panic so Dominic doesn’t see it when he strides in, his slippers soft on the hardwood.

He freezes when he spots me by the desk, surprise flashing across his handsome face. “Chloe? I didn’t expect to find you in here. Did you need me for something?”

“Yeah, I do.” I hold up my laptop, pretending for all I’m worth that I wasn’t snooping when he walked in. “I, um, I got the new contract offer from my publisher.”

The words sound distant, as if someone else says them, and the excitement I should feel is smothered by the crushing realization of my uselessness.

A grin spreads across Dominic’s face. “Did they accept the counteroffer?” He crosses to me, his hand out. “Let me see.”

Numbly, I pass it over, and it barely registers when his fingers brush mine, the electricity a fizzle already dying.

Not seeming to notice, he opens my email app and skims the contract. “They agreed to the full amount? That’s fantastic! Do you mind if I send this to myself, so I’m not monopolizing your computer while I review it?”

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