Page 1 of Bliss: Part 2
Thirty
Owen
“A fucking runaway?”
The words came out louder than I intended, sharp and ragged and furious enough to turn a few heads in the precinct.
But I didn’t care. I let them look. Hell, Iwantedthem to look.
The officer behind the desk didn’t flinch. He didn’t so much as blink. Just sat there, unimpressed, tapping at his keyboard like I was wasting his time. Like I was the hundredth angry parent he’d seen this week and not someone whose daughter had vanished.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. I could feel my fingernails digging into the skin of my palms. My chest was tight. And it wasn’t just anger that was overwhelming. It was fear. A fear that had grown louder with every passing hour, until it was all I could hear.
“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the officer said without even glancing up. His voice was flat, like he’d said the exact same words a thousand times before. As if he was reading them from a laminated card under his desk like a script.
“Calm down?” I repeated, but my voice breaking on the word. I took a step closer to the desk, my jaw clenched so hard it felt like my teeth might crack. “My daughter is fucking missing. She’s eighteen. She didn’t fucking run away. She had no reason to run away. Something happened to her. I can feel it in my gut. And you're sitting there telling me I’m overreacting?”
Behind me, Tripp stepped up and placed a hand on my shoulder. I shook him off without looking at him. I couldn’t let anyone touch me. If someone touched me, I was going to fall apart, and I needed to stay standing. I needed to hold it together long enough to force someone in this damn building to take me seriously.
“Dad,” he said quietly, his voice careful. I still didn’t look at him. I couldn’t.
I was furious. Shaking. My entire body felt too small to contain everything crashing inside of me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch the wall, the desk, the smug look off that officer’s face. But I couldn’t afford to end up in handcuffs. Not today. Not when Bliss was still out there, somewhere.
“She’s been gone for less than 48 hours, sir,” the officer said, finally meeting my eyes. He said it with the kind of empty calm that only comes from not giving a single fuck. “That doesn’t qualify as a missing person yet.”
My voice dropped to a growl. “That’s fucking bullshit.”
“It’s not uncommon,” he continued, his tone still maddeningly detached. “Teenagers disappear for a night or two all the time. They argue with their parents, get overwhelmed, run off. It usually resolves itself.”
“She didn’t run away.” I stepped forward again, hands shaking. “She’s not just some girl who got overwhelmed. She’s my fucking daughter. She didn’t run off. Iknowshe didn’t. You think I don’t know my own kid?”
The officer didn’t even blink. “Like I said—”
“You know what? Don’t,” I snapped, cutting him off. “Just don’t. I don’t want to hear one more rehearsed sentence about protocol or how ‘normal’ this is. You sit behind that desk, acting like none of this matters, and my little girl could be in danger right now.Right now.She could be out there hurt, scared, alone, and you’re telling me to go home and wait until the clock runs out?”
“I’m not saying that,” he muttered, but he didn’t deny it either.
“You are. You’re fucking saying that exactly. You want me to sit on my hands and wait for the worst to happen just so you can check a box. That’s bullshit.”
That’s when Odin stepped in, coming up on my left and gripping my arm. “Come on,” he murmured. “Not here. Not like this.”
“I’m not leaving,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “Not until they fuckingdosomething.”
“You’re telling me you’re not even going to pretend to care?” I asked the officer again. “You’re really just going to sit there and let me walk out of here without filing a report?”
At that, the officer behind the desk finally looked like he wanted me gone. He shifted his chair back slightly, eyes flicking past me toward the hallway, like he was waiting for someone to step in.
And someone did.
“What’s going on here?”
The voice came from the hallway, firm and deep. A tall officer stepped into the room, commanding attention without even raising his voice. His badge readWilkinson. His presence shifted the room immediately. Even the guy behind the desk straightened up.
Rhys, who had been quiet until now, spoke up behind me. “My sister’s missing,” he said, voice strained. “This guy’s refusing to file the report.”
Wilkinson’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”
The desk officer shrugged. “She’s probably a runaway. It hasn’t been 48 hours—”
