Chapter 119

Agnes

I was alone in the forest, with no wolf and unable to see. Olivia had left me there, and I felt like a fool for ever trusting her enough to follow her into the pitch black woods.

“Olivia!” I called out, turning around several times where I stood. “Olivia, where did you go?”

There was no answer. At first, I had thought that we had just gotten separated when I fell over that tree root, but she couldn’t possibly have gotten accidentally separated from me in the short amount of time it had taken for me to get up.

No, she really had left me. I could already picture her grinning to herself as she ran off into the darkness, ignoring my calls.

Why had she agreed to let me come with her in the first place, if she was just going to ditch me? Was it because I was slowing her down? Was it because I had no wolf and no night vision, and therefore kept holding her back? Or was she planning this the whole time, just to frighten and humiliate me?

I cursed under my breath, gritting my teeth, and turned around. If I could just figure out which way we had come from, I might be able to make it back out to the road. From there, I could either wait by the car for Olivia to return or hike up the road to the main campground, where I could ask for help.

As I began to wander in a direction that seemed familiar, I went to slip my phone out of my pocket only to find that I had left it—likely in Olivia’s car. I knew there was no service out here anyway, but I couldn’t even use it for a flashlight.

“Dammit,” I huffed. I supposed that I was on my own, no thanks to Olivia.

But it was my own fault, wasn’t it? In a moment of panic, I had agreed to go out into the wilderness with her, with no phone no less, and it was a bad decision that I wouldn’t let myself live down anytime soon.

Still, it could have been far worse. I knew I wasn’t that far from the road, so I kept going.

However, it didn’t take me long to feel even more lost. As I looked around, squinting into the darkness, I realized that I didn’t recognize my surroundings at all. The trees and ferns looked unfamiliar, and I definitely didn’t recall the large, moss-covered boulder that was now standing in my path.

I veered to the left, figuring I had just gotten off course but was still going in the general correct direction.

Suddenly, my feet stumbled on a sharp decline, sending pebbles skittering down into a pitch black ravine. My heart lurched, arms windmilling, and I just barely managed to catch myself between two saplings before I went tumbling down.

“Shit.”

Shit, indeed. I had almost walked directly into a ravine, one that had a depth I couldn’t even tell thanks to my useless eyes.

After that close call, I turned around and began making my way back the way I had just come, feeling a bit more anxious now.

This whole situation felt… familiar.

Too familiar.

I felt like I had time traveled back to seven years ago, back to the early days when my daughter had gone missing. Back to the countless nights I had spent searching all of the local forests for her with no rhyme or reason, calling out for her desperately.

I had screamed her name, as if she would answer from somewhere high up in a tree—as if she wasn’t a fucking baby who didn’t even know her own name yet let alone how to answer—until my throat had gone sore and my voice had been lost. I had spent night after night in the woods, sometimes without stopping until the sun came up, searching for her.

Of course, there was no real reason to assume that my daughter was in the woods. Of all places, why would an infant be in the dark forest? If someone had taken her, then she was likely in another territory entirely, perhaps overseas or living in a dark, cold basement.

Or, hell, maybe she was living in the lap of luxury in a warm house, the stolen child of a person who couldn’t have one of their own.

But regardless, she wasn’t in the forest. And yet I had insisted on searching for her in every nook and cranny, under every rock and behind every tree, in a desperate attempt to find her.

And most of all, no one had helped me. Not even once, just to humor me, had my family joined me in my search.

They had simply called me crazy and delusional, a mad wolfless freak of a woman, and had cast me out without a second thought.

This felt… too much like those nights, stumbling through the woods. And before I knew it, tears had filled my eyes, further turning my vision blurry.

As I was staggering helplessly through the woods, I suddenly felt something scratch at my leg. I gasped, looking down to see a red rash rising on my calf. Crouching, I managed to catch a glimpse of what had done it: three shiny leaves with hairy roots clinging to the soil.

Poison ivy.

“Great,” I muttered, resisting the urge to scratch at the sudden sensation as I stood. I didn’t know that poison ivy could cause a reaction that quickly, but it was already burning like hell. I made a mental note to keep a safe distance from Thea if I saw her anytime soon.

But as I continued to stumble through the forest, the burning turned to fiery itching, followed by a strange, throbbing, swelling sensation in my ankle. I kept having to stop and breathe every few moments, resisting the urge to scratch for fear of spreading the infection.

Eventually, it became almost unbearable. Gasping, I stumbled over to a nearby boulder and leaned against it, lifting my leg to get a good look.

My entire ankle was completely swollen.

My eyes went wide. This wasn’t a normal reaction. It was far too severe for a typical poison ivy rash. This was… concerning.

I began to get worried, so I picked up my pace, this time calling out again.

“Olivia!” I shouted, and by now my chest was beginning to burn. “Thea! Elijah!”

No answer. I called out again, my voice more hoarse and choked than last time. The third time I called out, it was barely a squeak.

“E-Elijah!”

I could hardly breathe by then, my exhales coming out in short, choked gasps. It hit me too late that this was anaphylactic shock, the very thing that Olivia had warned me of Thea suffering from. I inhaled roughly, only to cough it all back up immediately, and the world began to fade at the edges.

Suddenly, my legs gave out from lack of oxygen. I slumped to the forest floor, my fingers digging into the dirt as I tried to crawl my way forward.

“E… li… jah…”

The word was barely more than a croak.

I was going to die here, I realized. My body was swelling, my throat closing, and my eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head. Every fiber felt like it was on fire, every breath was agony.

I was going to die. From fucking poison ivy.

But then, just as the world began to ebb away, I heard voices. Shouting. Someone crashed through the underbrush, and a moment later, warm arms scooped me up. I heard a male voice, a familiar one, although I couldn’t figure out what he was saying through my haze.

All I knew was that it was Elijah who was holding me. His face looked terrified, and he ripped the orange cap off the tip of an epipen with his teeth. I hardly even felt the jab of the needle as he injected me.

A moment later, the pain subsided ever so slightly—just enough for me to hear what he was saying.

“I’ve got you,” he said, lifting me and carrying me through the forest. “We’re going to get you help…”

My head lolled back as I gasped for air, my vision fading. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the mating mark glowing on his neck.