Page 1 of Bliss, Part 2

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, I wanted them 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. I know she 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 fucking do something.”

“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 read Wilkinson. 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—”

“Christ,”

Wilkinson muttered, jaw flexing as he cut him off.

“There is no mandatory waiting period to report a missing person. You should know that.”

“But—”

the guy started, then stopped. He raised his hands slightly, like surrendering the argument, but there was no apology in his tone.

Wilkinson didn’t respond to him again. He looked over at a female officer nearby. A woman around my age, maybe a little younger, with her dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She’d been standing off to the side, quietly watching everything unfold.

“Holloway,”

Wilkinson said.

“Get on this case.”

She nodded without hesitation.

“Yes, sir.”

He turned back to me.

“You’re in good hands. I apologize for the way this was handled.”

I didn’t thank him. I couldn’t. I just stared at the guy behind the desk one last time as he deliberately avoided my eyes. My chest was still heaving, my heart pounding so loud I could barely hear. But I followed Holloway when she gestured us down the hallway.

None of us sat when we got into her office. The tension was too thick to sit. We just stood there and waited.

“I heard everything,”

Holloway said, her voice steady but not cold.

“And I understand how urgent this is. I’m treating this as a missing person case effective immediately.”

Behind me, Dash made a strangled sound. I turned, just in time to see him break. He covered his face with both hands, his whole body trembling, a sound catching in his throat that broke my fucking heart.

Ashby and Rhys were there to give him strength, but it didn’t really help when they were both breaking the same.

I knew what was happening inside Dash. He blamed himself, even if he didn’t say it out loud. Even if we told him it wasn’t his fault. It was nobody’s fault.

I was barely holding on myself. My mind kept circling the same terrifying thoughts. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t disappear. Bliss wasn’t like that. Something was wrong. Something happened.

“I’ll do everything I can to find her,”

Holloway said, and for the first time today, I felt hopeful.

***

It’s been 24 hours now.

No one had slept.

No one had eaten. We were running on coffee, adrenaline, fear, and stubbornness.

We were looking for her, not thinking about resting.

The boys had split up, searching the other side of town, while Odin and I looked for her around our area. We knocked on every door, stopped strangers, flagged down cars. We asked everyone if they’d seen her. A few said they might’ve spotted her near the supermarket. That was our last lead.

I searched places no father should ever have to search. Behind buildings. Inside dumpsters. Ditches. Along the lake.

There was nothing.

People showed up to help. Tia and her friends. The guys’ old classmates. No hesitation. They just showed up. And I was grateful, but gratitude didn’t ease the panic that had taken root in my gut. It didn’t stop the screaming inside my skull.

Holloway gave up trying to keep me home. She knew better by now. She saw it in my face. I couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t wait by the phone. I needed to move. Even if all I did was walk in circles calling her name, I needed to feel like I was doing something.

And I prayed desperate prayers to a God I didn’t even believe in. But in this situation, it just felt right.

***

48 hours later.

Still nothing.

The house was quiet, it felt like it was holding its breath. We sat around the dining table, with mugs of cold coffee and uneaten food on it. We sat there like ghosts. No one spoke much. There wasn’t anything left to say.

“It’s been two days,”

Ashby finally said.

No one responded. He didn’t have to elaborate. The weight of it was enough.

“We’ll find her,”

Tripp said after a long silence, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“We will find her.”

Dash wiped his face and looked up, eyes glassy and red.

“I’m fucking scared.”

I reached over, hand on his shoulder, squeezing once. “I know.”

Rhys muttered something about the cops not doing enough. He looked as wrecked as I felt. His hands were shaking. We were all unraveling.

“They’re doing what they can,”

I said.

“It just doesn’t feel like enough.”

Odin stood suddenly, grabbing his keys.

“I’m going back out. Can’t sit here.”

I didn’t blame him. I was already on my feet, too.

We weren’t stopping. Not until we found her.