Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Holden
T he 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.”
I run a hand over my face, the start of a beard scratching my palm. I need to shave, but it feels like one step too much most days. “After his chat with Vivian, I’m not holding my breath.”
“We can’t lose hope,” Blake says.
“We’re running out of time. I can feel it.” Restless, I resume pacing around the dining room. “She’s trapped with that bastard, and we can’t even access her file to fix this mess.”
Blake leans against the table, the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel revealing his sleeve tattoos. “We’ll figure it out. The restraining order will come through with an address for where Vivian is staying, and that will lead us to Chloe. Or Grady will come out of the coma and deal with the Omega Registration Office.”
I nod, trying to latch onto the hope in his words. But each day, the fear grows, a living thing inside me, coiling around my heart and squeezing until it hurts to breathe.
Blake straightens away from the table. “I’ll put Quinn down for a nap and meet you in the study.”
He scoops Quinn up in his arms, her delighted giggles bringing a brief smile to my face. Sprinkles scrambles upright, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he trots behind them toward the back hall.
I follow at a slower pace, my mind whirling with possible next steps. I’ve already combed through Grady’s laptop, but if Chloe told him about her forced courtship, I found no reference to it.
I pause in front of Chloe’s suite, my hand on the closed door. It remains the same as the day of her accident. I had gone in to find Chloe’s wallet, so I had the information for the Registration Office, and her cell phone in case she tries to reach out that way. Otherwise, it’s become a shrine, waiting for her return.
Turning away, I walk across the hall and open the door to the study. Once the resort officially opens, it will be for guest use. Until then, it’s close to Quinn so we’ll know if she sneaks out of her room.
I sink onto the couch and rest my head against the back cushion, closing my eyes. Sleep has been scarce since Chloe vanished from the hospital. Every time I lie down, my mind floods with my brief time with the pretty Omega.
I regret how my insecurities as an Alpha held me back, regret my spurts of jealousy when she smiled at Blake instead of me.
Had I known our time together would be cut short, I would have thrown myself into pursuing her the way Blake did. He has all the confidence that I lack. He was so certain from the very start that Chloe was the Omega meant for our pack. I should have trusted his instincts and pushed harder when Chloe opened up to me about her troubles with her mother.
If I had, maybe she would have ended her courtship with Louie sooner, and she wouldn’t be gone from Misty Pines. Because of my inaction, she’s out there somewhere with that bastard, and we’re helpless to do anything about it.
I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms. The pain comes as a welcome distraction from the turmoil in my head, the sickening churn of worry.
I should have been there for her. Should have protected her, the way a true Alpha would. Instead, my insecurities held me back and let my fear of rejection override my duty to keep her safe.
Trying to steady myself, I take in a shuddering breath. I can’t afford to fall apart now, not when Chloe needs me more than ever.
The cushion beside me sinks, and Blake’s head drops onto my shoulder. “You’re not the only one who feels helpless, you know. Dominic is running all over Pinecrest and Mosswood hunting for a lead, and Nathaniel’s snapping at everyone.”
A snort escapes me. “That’s not new for Nathaniel.”
Blake chuckles. “Fair enough.” He nuzzles his head against my neck. “My point is that this isn’t all on your shoulders. I’m worried that you’re going to make yourself sick.”
“I know.” I rub the ache in my chest. “I just feel like such a useless Alpha.”
Blake straightens, and my eyes open to find him glaring down at me. “You’re not useless, so stop thinking that. You’re the home we’re going to bring Chloe back to, and she won’t be happy to see you in your present state.”
I lift a hand to my scruffy chin. “Is that your subtle way of saying I look like shit?”
“Yeah, you look like shit.” He scans my face. “Have you eaten anything today?”
I turn my head away. “I’m not hungry.”
“That’s what you said at dinner last night, too.” He stands and grabs my hand, dragging me off the couch. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I ask as he pulls me out of the study.
“You’re going to go shave and wash your face.” Down the hall, he stops at the stairs and prods me toward them. “Then you’re going to come back down and eat the sandwich I’m going to whip up for you.”
“But I’m not hung?—”
His raised hand cuts me off, and he points at the landing above. “Up you go.”
I study the long flight of steps. They’re a lot to take on, but when Blake nudges me again, I lift my foot onto the first tread and grip the handrail. When Blake gets like this, there’s no arguing with him. It’s better to just go along with his demands.
It takes far more effort to reach the second floor than usual, and by the time I do, my breaths come fast, my chest heaving.
I shuffle down the hall to the right and pass through the door that leads into the personal space of the Homestead. We need to convert a room for Quinn up here, since she’s now living here. We should designate a room for Chloe, too, for when she comes back to us.
If she comes back to us. Even if we find her, she could still reject our pack. Louie isn’t the only obstacle that stands in our way.
Pushing open the door to my room, I stride into my bathroom and pause, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. The face that stares back at me looks haggard, the lines around my eyes deeper than I remember, and my hair sticks up in a frizzy puff.
Blake was holding back when he said I looked like shit.
I need to pull it together. I won’t be any good to Chloe if I let myself fall apart.
With a sigh, I strip and step into the shower, making quick work of washing off a couple of days of grime. It takes more time to set my curls, and not for the first time, I consider shaving my head so I won’t have to deal with the hassle.
I pick up the clippers next to the sink and contemplate them for a moment before settling on only shaving my face. Now is not the time to make drastic changes to my appearance.
Dressing in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a forest-green sweater, I grab socks, my gaze falling on the pink, sparkly wallet on top of my dresser. After only a second of waffling, I slip it into the pocket opposite the one that holds mine.
When I head back downstairs, I feel more optimistic. Blake was right. I needed that.
Blake looks up from where he sits at the table, a sandwich in hand and the wrapper of a muffin lying to the side of his plate. “I was about to come check on you.”
“I took a quick shower.” I snatch up the sandwich waiting for me and head for the door. “Thanks for the push. I’ll be back with Dominic tonight.”
Blake spins on the bench. “Where are you running off to?”
“I’m going to go visit Grady.” I check the time on my phone. “Kyle should be docking soon.”
Concern shadows Blake’s pale brown eyes. “Grady’s still unconscious. You showing up won’t bring him out of the coma any faster.”
I pause, my hand on the cool doorknob. “I know, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing. The doctors said he could wake up any day now. I want to be by his side when it happens.”
Blake nods, his expression grim. “Just be careful. And don’t skip dinner. We need you in one piece.”
I meet his gaze, seeing the unspoken words. He understands the toll this is taking on me, the weight of responsibility I’ve put on my shoulders. But he also knows that I will stop at nothing to bring Chloe home.
With a final nod, I turn and walk out into the afternoon light, the door closing behind me with a soft click.
Cool, crisp air carries the scent of pine and earth as I stride down the path to the main road. I eat the sandwich as I walk, realizing how hungry I am after the first bite.
Each step feels lighter now that I have something to do, even if it’s just to visit a man in a coma. Grady is important to Chloe, so he’s important to me, too.
I pass the bustling construction site, Nathaniel’s voice booming over the sound of hammers and saws. I spot Emily with a stack of flooring on one shoulder, who lifts a hand in greeting when she sees me.
I wave back without slowing, intent on reaching Kyle where he kneels by a pier, tying off the water taxi.
A twinge of guilt goes through me as I step onto the planks, but I push it aside. Kyle will take any excuse to go back out, and we’re well past his preferred fishing time.
The dock rises and falls beneath my sneakers, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore soothing with its familiarity.
At my approach, Kyle straightens, smoothing a hand over his bald head before settling his scally cap back in place. “Hey, you looking for a ride to the mainland?”
I nod. “Sorry to make you go out again so soon.”
“Better this than clearing paths.” He tilts his head toward the boat. “Hop on in. I’ll have us on the water in a jiffy.”
“Thanks, man.” I clap him on the arm. “I appreciate it.”
I step on and settle in the spare seat next to the wheel.
A few minutes later, Kyle joins me. He starts the engine, the rumble vibrating through my bones as we back away from the dock. “Where am I dropping you off?”
“Mosswood.” It’s closer than the docks in Pinecrest. I pull out my phone to text my bondmate. “I’ll meet up with Dominic and catch a ride with him later.”
Kyle pats my shoulder. “You got it.”
The wind whips through my hair as we speed across the water, Misty Pines fading into the distance behind us.
Please let this visit to the hospital be different from the others.