Page 23 of Seen Knot Heard

Chapter Eight

Holden

The scent of coffee fills the air as I pace the dining room, my phone pressed to my ear. The rich aroma does little to soothe my fraying patience. My mug sits untouched, along with the muffins I baked this morning, everything long since grown cold.

“I understand your policies.” I struggle to keep my voice level. “But this is an urgent situation. Chloe’s safety is at risk. Isn’t there some way to access her file without Grady’s authorization?”

The representative’s cool, professional tone chafes like sandpaper. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Wright, but our protocol is clear. Unless we receive explicit consent from Mr. Finch or Ms. Richardson, I cannot provide you with information about Ms. Richardson’s registration, even under these circumstances. If you believe Ms. Richardson is being harmed, report it to the police and they will look into it.”

I clench my jaw, wanting to throw my phone in frustration. My Alpha instincts rebel against the bureaucratic blockade, demanding I take action to protect what’s mine.

But Chloe isn’t mine, I remind myself. At this rate, she never will be.

“There must be something you can do,” I press, desperation bleeding into my words. “Chloe could be in danger. Every second we delay puts her at greater risk.”

“Again, I apologize for the inconvenience, but my hands are tied.” The representative’s polite dismissal rings hollow in my ears. “Once Mr. Finch contacts us to authorize a substitute?—”

“He’s in a coma!” I yell.

“—we’ll be happy to assist you further,” the rep continues without pause. “Until then, I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do.”

Acid churns in my gut as I end the call, my hand trembling. I take a deep breath, but all I smell is leftovers from breakfast and my pack. After three weeks, none of Chloe’s garden scent remains in the main part of our home.

My fingers curl against my palm, longing for the softness of her skin, the playful sparkle in her pink eyes, the strawberry-sweet flavor of her lip gloss. But she’s out of my reach, perhaps forever, and the knowledge rips a jagged hole in my heart.

I have to find her, but without access to her file and no clues to guide me, I’m just as lost as she is.

A burst of high-pitched giggles shatters my spiral of depression.

I blink, the room swimming back into focus as Quinn barrels around the staircase, her little arms clutching a coloring book to her chest. Her brown hair bounces with each step, and her pale eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Uncle Holden, Uncle Holden!” She skids to a stop in front of me, thrusting the illustration up for my inspection. “I can’t find my pink crayon! It’s my favorite, and I need it to color the princess’s dress. Can you help me search for it? Please?”

Her innocent plea tugs at my heart, while the weight of Chloe’s disappearance presses down on me like a physical force.

I smile, hoping it doesn’t appear strained. “I’m sorry, princess. Uncle Holden is a little busy right now. Can it wait a few minutes?”

Quinn’s lower lip juts out in a pout, and tears threaten. “That’s what you said about making cookies!”

Dismay fills me, and I run a hand through my curls, the beginning of a headache throbbing in my temples. I love Quinn with all my heart, and no matter what else is happening in our lives, her happiness still matters.

“Did you check under Sprinkles’s bed?” I ask, knowing she sleeps with the giant Newfoundland more often than in her princess tower.

Clutching her coloring book to her chest, Quinn’s face scrunches up in thought, then she shakes her head. “Help me, please? The pillow is too heavy.”

Hesitating, I lift my phone, staring at the dark screen. If I call again, maybe a more sympathetic representative will answer. Or they’ll flag my name as a stalker.

I slip my phone into my pocket. “Okay, let’s go.”

Before we get far, though, the front door opens, and Sprinkles comes bounding inside, followed by Blake.

Quinn forgets her coloring book in an instant as she races forward to hug Sprinkles. He licks her face, then drops to the ground to roll onto his back, exposing his belly for rubs.

Blake pauses next to me, his arm pressing against mine as his familiar smoked-applewood-and-cider pheromones surround me. “Getting anywhere?”

Frustration wells up once more. “Without Grady’s approval, they won’t allow me to access her file. I understand that it’s right for them to refuse. They have to protect the people registered, but it’s so…”

When I let out a growl, Blake squeezes my shoulder. “Maybe Dominic will have better luck.”

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