Page 4 of Seen Knot Heard

Turning back to me, he sets it by my hip. “A gift, to show I’m not an unreasonable monster.”

But he is, no matter how he tries to disguise it. The door clicks shut, leaving me alone again, and desperation claws at me. I have to escape. Have to contact someone, anyone. Holden. Blake. The police.

Crawling away from the safety of soft pillows and quilts, I search the room. In the closet, I find dozens of high-end outfits in my size, with a dresser full of lacy undergarments. In the bathroom, I discover oils and lotions to pamper myself with.

No phone, though.

Frustration burns, hot and bitter. Of course, he wouldn’t leave me with a way to reach out for help.

I stumble to the window, desperate for a glimpse of the outside world. The city lights twinkle, a glittering tapestry of life and energy. People walk below me, so far away they look like ants.

There will be no yelling for help from this lofty tower.

As I turn back to the room, the bag he left catches my attention. Its large, slender shape draws me toward it, curious to discover what kind of peace offering he thought would win me over.

I open it to find a new laptop inside, nicer than the one I’ve used since college.

Heart in my throat, I struggle to rip it open with one hand and press the power button. I rock back and forth with impatience as I wait through the loading process. As soon as the dashboard opens, I tap on the Wi-Fi symbol in the upper right corner, where my hope dies when a request for a password pops up.

I try Louie’s name, then mine, too, along with my date of birth, the date we first met, and anything else that comes to mind.

The password continues to elude me.

Defeated, I slump back against the bed, despair a leaden weight pressing me down. Then the icon for the word-processing app catches my attention.

I can’t call for help. Can’t reach anyone. But I can write out the truth of what’s happening to me and leave some record behind.

The harsh glow of the laptop screen illuminates my face as the blank document sends jitters through me. No matter how many times I do this, it’s always the same. My hands tremble as they hover over the keys, unsure of where to start.

Closing my eyes, I summon the strength to pour my heart onto the page.

As I type, the familiarclick-clackof my fingers dancing over the keyboard offer comfort in this nightmare.

With each word, a piece of my pain, my loneliness, my fear flows out of me in a cathartic rush, along with my aching need to be free of this beautiful prison and the man who caged me.

Slowly, the sentences form into characters, a story taking shape, my own twisted reality bleeding into fiction.

The scene unfolds, vivid flashes of memory overtaking me. Holden’s shy smile, the way his face lit up when we shared a tray of Rice Krispie Treats, still warm from the microwave.

Blake’s warmth as he showed me the constellations built into the ceiling of the media room, the weight of his big body on top of mine as his knot swelled within me.

The hope on Dominic’s face as he asked me to start over, to give us a chance despite all the hurt caused by our youth. Even Nathaniel, gruff and protective of his chosen family, the pack I yearn to join, warming toward me.

The softness in their voices as they assured me I would never be alone again.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, determined to lose myself in make-believe, if only for a little while.

Louie may hold me captive, but in my imagination, I can plot a hundred outcomes that lead to my escape, that reunite me with the Alphas of Misty Pines and the happily ever after of my dreams.

In the end, this is still my story to write. I’ll be damned if I let Louie pen the ending.

Chapter Two

Blake

Ipull up to the curb outside the hospital entrance and shift to face Holden, who sits in the passenger seat.

His golden-brown curls are mussed, thick lashes lowered to hide his bloodshot, hazel eyes with dark circles underneath. The faint scent of his vanilla pheromones clings to him, but exhaustion and stress turn it sour.

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