Chapter 142

Elijah

I couldn’t sleep that night. Not after what happened in the nail salon—not when Olivia’s face kept swimming in my mind, turning my exhaustion into fresh anger over and over again. I kept thinking back to the moments in that place, to the horror of finding out that Olivia had taken Thea, to the scuffle and the aftermath…

Agnes vanished into the downpour, ignoring my calls for her to stop. She disappeared around the corner of the salon in a flash of tattered fabric and ruined hair.

Immediately, I whirled around, my gaze snapping to Olivia. My blood began to boil the moment I saw her, as if it wasn’t already. As if seeing what she’d done at the fashion show, stealing my daughter away and fighting with my wife, wasn’t bad enough.

No. It was the smug fucking smile on her lips that set me off completely. Olivia was smiling, as if everything she’d done was some kind of sick joke that only she was in on.

Then my eyes landed on Thea. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, her fresh nail polish smeared. Seeing her like that, so small and scared… it broke something inside of me.

I never even considered hitting a woman before. But I was certainly considering it now.

Suddenly, the bell above the door jingled. I turned to see James entering, his hair plastered to his forehead from the rain. “I came as soon as I could,” his mental voice said through our Mindlink. “What happened?”

“Take Thea,” I replied quickly. “Get her to the car. Now. And find Agnes. She can’t have gone far.”

James gave a curt nod before scooping Thea up and disappearing back into the torrential rain.

The moment James was gone, the restraint I’d been clinging to finally snapped. Before Olivia could let out one more venomous word, I grabbed her arm and hauled her away from the gawking nail technicians and customers. I shoved open the door to a small, empty back room—a supply closet, maybe—and practically threw her inside, slamming the door shut behind us.

The tiny space felt instantly claustrophobic. Olivia stumbled but caught her balance, rubbing her arm where I’d gripped it. But she still had that smug smile on her face.

“Well, that was quite the display,” she drawled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Your little stray is completely feral, Elijah. Utterly unhinged. You saw her—attacking me like that? In front of our daughter? She’s crazy. You can’t trust her around Thea, surely you see that now.”

My fists clenched at my sides, turning my knuckles white. Feral? Crazy? Agnes had reacted out of pain, out of the deep wounds Olivia relentlessly tore open every chance she got. Agnes had done exactly what I wanted to do myself.

“You should pay for this dress, you know,” Olivia continued, gesturing dismissively at the torn fabric of her designer gown. “Since your little project ruined it.” Her eyes narrowed, glittering with malice. “Better yet, just get rid of her. Divorce her. She’s nothing but trouble, Elijah. A placeholder. You and I, we can fix things. For Thea’s sake.”

Something inside of me roared at her words. Right then, I wanted nothing more than to slap her face raw and red. I wouldn’t do it, of course. I couldn’t. But, Goddess, I wanted nothing more than to knock some sense into her.

Instead of striking, I moved. Fast. I closed the distance between us in a single stride, backing her up until she had nowhere to go but the wall. I leaned in, crowding her space, planting my hands on the wall on either side of her head. Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine fear finally cutting through the arrogance.

Good.

“Stay,” I growled, the sound low and dangerous, “the hell. Away. From my family.”

Olivia blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Then, she let out a wry little laugh.

“Your… family?” She spat the word out like it was poison. “Agnes is not your family, Elijah! She’s a replacement. A warm body in your bed because you couldn’t handle being alone! Thea… Thea is our child. Mine and yours! Not hers!”

A cold, dead certainty settled in my gut then. “Agnes is my family. And you haven’t been a true mother to Thea since the moment she was born.”

All at once, the memories of our marriage flooded back—Olivia’s indifference toward Thea, her impatience, the way she’d always treated Thea not as a daughter, but as a pawn. A tool to manipulate me, to gain leverage, to inflict pain. The… emotional, verbal abuse. Thea was only a toddler, and Olivia had been so vile to her that it made me sick just to think about.

“You’ve only ever seen Thea as a means to an end,” I finally finished. “A way to get what you want.”

Olivia blinked at me. A darker thought, one that had lurked in the recesses of my mind for years, surfaced suddenly. “Hell, Olivia,” I continued, my gaze sweeping over her, “sometimes I wonder if Thea is even truly yours. I never saw you pregnant. Not once. You just… showed up one day with a baby in your arms, claiming she was ours. And you’ve never, not for one single day, treated her like a daughter you carried, a daughter you birthed. You hold her like she’s borrowed.”

Olivia’s eyes flashed at that, and I knew I’d struck a chord. “What… what are you saying?” she bit out. “You know Thea is mine. We’ve done tests.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out that vial of medication. “I even have postpartum depression medication.”

My eyes flicked to the medication. It was still in that damn unmarked bottle, more like a potion than any medicine I’d ever seen. I tilted my head. “What’s the name of your medication, Olivia?”

Her lips pursed. “What?”

I jerked my chin toward the bottle. “What’s it called? Your prescription. Who prescribed it to you?”

Olivia hesitated, and something cold washed over me. With a huff, she uncorked the bottle and took a big swig. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she hissed, “I don’t have to tell you that. It’s personal.”

Suddenly, I felt that familiar warmth seep into my body. The mate bond. Olivia took a step closer so that our chests were pressing against one another now, her supple breasts pushed up to my abdomen. She batted her eyelashes up at me, tilting her head back as if to expose the inviting column of her throat.

I clenched my jaw, but didn’t pull away. I knew exactly what she was doing: manipulating the mate bond.

And yet…

My eyes moved to the bottle one more time, and I felt a sense of unease grow in my stomach. Something was off about that so-called “medicine”. The timing between her drinking it and manipulating our mate bond… it was just as it had been at the party.

I thought back to my earlier concerns, about the possibility that Olivia was somehow fabricating a mate bond. Was it possible that I’d been right? I didn’t know anymore. I didn’t know what to think, what to believe.

Somehow, though, I managed to push through the haze of attraction without kissing her. I think it bothered her, because she curled her fingers around the lapel of my suit jacket and attempted to tug me closer, eyes flashing.

I didn’t move.

Rather, I grabbed her fingers tightly and murmured, “Olivia, if you ever—ever—come near Thea again without my explicit permission—mine and Agnes’s—I will lock you away so deep no one will ever find you. I will imprison you, Olivia. Do you understand me?”

Her face went slack with shock. “Imprison me? You… you can’t! I’m her mother! I have rights! I am the rightful Luna of this pack! I’m your wife!”

A harsh sound escaped my throat, something that might have been a chuckle if it contained any trace of humor. “Wife?” I echoed, the word tasting like ash on my tongue. “Luna? Mother?” I shook my head slowly. “You haven’t been any of those things in a long, long time. Not in any way that matters.”

“Elijah—”

“You’re on thin ice, Olivia. Thinner than you can possibly imagine. One more step, one more game, one more attempt to hurt Agnes or confuse Thea…” My own eyes narrowed. “And you might just plunge into icy waters.”

Olivia’s breath hitched. I tightened my grip on her fingers until she let out a little squeak of pain.

“And trust me,” I murmured, my voice dropping even lower. “When you fall in… no one is going to pull you out this time.” I let my gaze bore into hers for one last second. “Especially not me.”

And with that, I released her hand, pushed away from the wall, and left her trembling in the closet.