Page 31 of Seen Knot Heard

“Don’t worry about it.” Nervous sweat prickles on my skin as I tuck the second set into my jacket.

We leave Grady’s room and stride toward the elevator, trying to appear casual. Once inside, I jam the button for the fifth floor. Holden shifts his weight from foot to foot, vibrating with nerves in the tight space.

“It’s going to be okay,” I mutter, more to myself than him. “We’re not leaving without her this time.”

We arrive with a quietding, and the doors slide open. I check the hallway. Empty. “Come on.”

I lead Holden down the corridor, scanning the directory until I locate Chloe’s hall. Relief surges through me, followed by a fresh wave of adrenaline.

A dark room comes into view, and when I test the doorknob, it turns. “In here.”

We duck inside, the light filtering through from the hall giving us enough illumination to change into the scrubs. Holden wriggles a little to fit into his, the restrictive material straining over his slight stomach.

He tugs on the hem. “What now?”

“I’ll create a distraction so we can reach Chloe.” Smoothing down my scrubs, I square my shoulders. “Stay in here until I return.”

Holden’s forehead creases with concern. “Okay, please be careful.”

“I will.” I want to rub my cheek against his, to blend our pheromones for comfort. But I’m not sure I’m welcome anymore, so I ball my hands into fists. “Be ready when it’s time to move.”

Then I’m out the door, slipping back into the well-lit hallway.

Stride purposeful so as not to draw attention, I move down the corridor, peeking into patient rooms as I pass, searching for what I need.

There. An elderly man hooked up to a tangle of tubes and wires, the beep and hiss of machines keeping him alive.

Guilt twists my gut as I slip inside, but I push it down. I survey the machines until I find the blood pressure monitor. It’s not what keeps him alive but will cause a commotion when it sets off alarms. With a deep breath and a whispered apology to the unconscious man, I yank the power cord from the wall.

Alarms blare and lights flash. Shouts fill the air.

Moving fast, I duck out into the hall as nurses rush toward the crisis I created.

Now for phase two.

I grab an empty wheelchair from an alcove and race back to the room where Holden waits.

When I burst in, he jumps, hand flying to his chest. “You scared me!”

“It’s time,” I gasp, a little out of breath. “Follow my lead, okay? No matter what.”

His shoulders square beneath the borrowed scrubs. “Okay. I trust you.”

My chest tightens at those words. “Let’s go get Chloe.”

I push the wheelchair out, and Holden follows.

We weave down the chaotic hallway, dodging scrambling nurses to reach Chloe’s room. The guard at the door doesn’t spot us right away as he cranes his neck to see what’s happening.

I clear my throat, injecting pure Alpha authority into my voice. “We’re here to take Ms. Richardson down for labs.”

The distracted guard startles, his attention snapping to us with a hard glare. For a moment, I think he’ll question us, but then another alarm joins the fray, and he waves us through. “Be quick about it.”

“Yes, sir.” I push the wheelchair through the door he opens, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my hands shake on the handles.

Then we’re inside, and she’s in front of us. Chloe. She sits up in bed, fear clear in her heart-shaped face, pink hair tangled around her shoulders, smelling like lilacs and distress.

My breath catches at the sight of her, so fragile and pale. Dark circles paint shadows at the tops of her cheekbones, and her face appears thinner than the last time I saw her. She’s lost weight. Too much too fast for the three weeks she’s been gone.

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