Chapter 124

Agnes

I stood in the bathroom, staring at the small vial of murky green oil that the witch had given me. The liquid inside seemed to swirl on its own, catching the dim light from the vanity. I uncorked it, the faint scent of herbs and something earthy wafting up to meet me.

One drop, she had said. Just one drop beneath my tongue before bed, and I might be able to communicate with my wolf—properly—for the first time in seven years.

I tilted the vial carefully, letting a single drop fall onto my tongue. The taste was bitter and medicinal, and I grimaced as it spread across my mouth.

When I was finished, I set the vial down and leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked tired, the weight of the day—no, the weight of the last seven years—etched into the lines of my face.

My phone buzzed on the counter suddenly, startling me. I picked it up, my heart skipping a beat when I saw the notification. It was an email from the DNA testing center.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen. I already knew what it would say. Elijah had told me ages ago that Thea wasn’t my daughter. He’d been gentle about it, but the truth had still felt like a knife to the chest.

And yet, some small, stubborn part of me had clung to hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, there had been a mistake. That somehow, against all odds, Thea was mine. That the birthmark on the back of her neck and our uncanny love for each other really did mean something.

I took a deep breath and opened the email.

The words blurred as I read them, my vision swimming. The results were clear. Thea wasn’t my daughter. Not biologically, at least.

I sank onto the edge of the bathtub, my phone slipping from my hand and clattering onto the tile floor. The sound echoed in the quiet room. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle the sob that was threatening to escape my throat.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

Of course, logically, I had known this was coming. I had known it for months now. But seeing it written out in black and white like that, seeing the cold, clinical confirmation of what I already knew for a second time now, felt like losing my little girl all over again.

I sat there for what felt like hours, my mind racing. Images of Thea flashed before my eyes—her laughter, her tears, the way she looked at me with those big, trusting eyes. She wasn’t mine, but she felt like mine. She had carved out a place in my heart that would never be the same again.

But she wasn’t Isabella.

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. Isabella, my daughter, my baby. Where was she now, seven years later? Was she even alive anymore? The detectives hadn’t returned with any information yet, and the case had been reopened weeks ago by now.

I wiped my eyes and stood, my legs shaky beneath me. I needed to tell Elijah. He already knew, of course, but I needed to say it out loud. I needed to hear him tell me it was going to be okay, even if I didn’t believe it.

I found him in his study, seated at his desk with a stack of papers in front of him. He looked up when I entered, his brow furrowing as he took in my pained expression.

“Agnes?” he said, setting the papers aside. “What’s wrong?”

I held up my phone, the email still open on the screen. “The results came in,” I said, my voice trembling ever so slightly. “You were right. Thea… she’s not mine.”

Elijah’s face softened, and he stood, crossing the room in a few quick strides. He didn’t look at the email before he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest. I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the top of my head. “I know you were still holding onto hope.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

“I’ll call the detectives tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll get updates on the search for your daughter. We’ll find her, Agnes. I promise.”

His words offered a small measure of comfort, but the ache in my chest didn’t go away completely. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that my Isabella was out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her.

But the years of searching, the countless dead ends, had just left me wary and tired. And this felt like a knife twisting in an open wound.

Elijah held me for a long time, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. When I finally pulled away, he cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had spilled onto my cheeks.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said softly. “I’m here. Like I told you once, we’re… partners. In everything.”

I nodded again, unable to find the words to express how much his support meant to me. Even if we couldn’t be lovers, I at least found comfort in his companionship. He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he stepped back.

“Try to get some rest,” he said. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”

I managed a small smile and left the study, making my way back to my room. The tincture had left a strange taste in my mouth, but I tried to push it out of my mind as I climbed into bed.

Sleep didn’t come easily. I lay there for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling and replaying the day’s events in my mind.

When I finally drifted off, I expected to dream about my wolf. The witch had said the tincture might help me connect with her in my dreams, and I had looked forward to it. But the night was dark and dreamless, and I woke up the next morning feeling hollow and disappointed.

Elijah was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs, sipping a cup of coffee and scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I entered.

“Did it work?” he asked. “The tincture, I mean. Did you dream about your wolf?”

I shook my head, pouring myself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. “No,” I said. “Nothing. Just… darkness.”

Elijah frowned, setting his phone down. “Well, maybe it takes time,” he said, although he didn’t sound convinced. I wasn’t, either. It felt like just another pointless hope in a situation that would never get better.

We sat in silence for a few moments, my mind mulling over everything. Suddenly, I recalled the pages that Ava had ripped out of the book. I’d almost forgotten, what with everything else going on. Taking a deep breath, I turned to Elijah.

“Elijah, I have to tell you something. About Ava and that book I’ve been reading.”

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “What about them?”

“It’s… complicated,” I said, staring into my coffee. I explained the situation to him, the letters Ava had supposedly received. “And now,” I continued, “the witch said someone might be performing rituals to keep the curse strong. What if it’s connected somehow? It feels unlikely, but… I don’t know.”

Elijah’s jaw tightened, and he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I need to go,” he said.

I blinked, startled by his sudden change in demeanor. “Go where?”

“I just… I have something I need to handle.” With that, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and headed for the door, leaving me standing there with my coffee cooling in my hands.