Chapter 188

Agnes

I woke up feeling like I was burning from the inside out.

Heat coursed through my veins. My sheets were so damp with sweat that they were clinging to my body. The sensation wasn’t painful, exactly, but it was intense—like a fever, but concentrated in my hands and chest.

For a moment, I just lay there, trying to steady my breathing as I recalled the events of the previous night. The funeral. The tiny casket. Isabella’s grave. And then… fire. Fire that I had somehow created without matches or a lighter, just by sitting there in my grief.

I hadn’t even been aware of it until Elijah pointed it out, stomping on the small flame before it could spread. Had I done that? Created fire from nothing?

The heat inside me surged again, as if in answer to my thoughts. My fingertips tingled, and I quickly scrambled out of bed. I couldn’t risk setting the bedroom on fire this time.

I hurried to the bathroom, stripping off my sweat-soaked nightgown as I went. Without hesitation, I turned the shower to its coldest setting and stepped under the icy spray, gasping as the water hit my overheated skin.

It wasn’t enough.

I shut off the shower and moved to the large soaking tub, plugging the drain and turning on the cold water full blast. I didn’t wait for it to fill before climbing in, wincing as the cold porcelain touched my burning skin.

As the frigid water rose around me, I finally began to feel some relief. The heat inside of me didn’t disappear completely, but it receded to a manageable level, a dull warmth rather than a blazing inferno.

I sank lower into the tub, letting the water cover me up to my chin. Thankfully, the icy coldness cleared not just the heat from my body but the thoughts from my mind. My head went blissfully blank as I sat there, shivering and focusing on nothing except for the pain of the cold.

But even then, I knew that this wasn’t something I could ignore anymore. These powers—whatever they were—were becoming more intense and more unpredictable, made even worse by my grief.

I needed to find a way to control them before I accidentally hurt someone I loved.

By the time the water turned too cold to bear, my teeth were chattering and my lips had probably turned blue, but the burning sensation had completely subsided. I climbed out carefully, wrapping myself in a thick towel and shivering as I made my way back to the bedroom to dress.

A glance at the clock told me it was already mid-morning. It was a Monday, so Elijah was at work and Thea was at school. Elijah had convinced me to take some time off of work, so it was just me in the house today, aside from the staff, who had been keeping their distance from me since the funeral.

Alone.

The thought was both comforting and isolating.

After dressing in loose, comfortable clothes—a pair of sweatpants and one of Elijah’s old t-shirts that I’d claimed as my own—I made my way downstairs. The book on elementals that we’d checked out from the library was still on the coffee table where I’d left it days ago, untouched since we’d returned from our research trip.

I made myself a strong cup of coffee in the kitchen, not really having much of a stomach to eat even though I knew I should, then settled on the living room couch with the book on my lap.

There had to be answers in here somewhere, some guidance on how to control these sudden surges of heat and power.

Most of the book was historical, detailing the roles elementals had played in pack society before technology made their abilities less necessary. I skimmed past sections I’d already read, looking for something more practical.

About halfway through, I found a chapter titled “The Elemental Bond.” It was specifically about mated elementals and how their powers interacted with pack dynamics. I sat up straighter, my interest piqued.

“The bond between a mated pair where one or both are elementals is uniquely powerful,” the book read. “The act of marking one’s mate creates a channel through which power can flow and stabilize. Many elementals struggle with control until they have successfully marked their mate, at which point their abilities become more manageable and easily directed.”

I paused, my coffee forgotten as I absorbed this information. Could this be the answer? Would marking Elijah—once my wolf fully emerged—help me control these surges?

But... Elijah was already marked by Olivia. Even though it wasn’t a fated mate bond, it was still a mark, and trying to overwrite it would almost certainly kill her. Neither of us wanted that, despite everything she’d done. Elijah wasn’t a killer, and I had no desire to become one.

I sighed, closing the book. This seemed like an impossible task. Once again, everything hinged on finding a way to safely unmark Olivia without killing her.

Perfect. Even in prison, she was getting in the way of everything.

The day dragged on after that. I tried to distract myself with work, sketching new designs for the summer line and reviewing production schedules for the survival bags, but my mind kept wandering.

As I was preparing for dinner, knowing Thea would be home soon, my phone buzzed with a text from Elijah.

“Got caught in an unexpected meeting with representatives from another pack. Won’t be home until late. But if you need me, I can cancel.”

I stared at the text, half considering telling him to cancel—because, frankly, I missed him. Today hadn’t been easy, and I was afraid I would lose control again and hurt someone. But I knew he wouldn’t consider staying late for a meeting unless it was important.

“I’m fine,” I texted back. “Handle your meeting. I’ll see you tonight.”

The remainder of the evening passed quietly. I helped Thea with her homework when she got home from school, then picked at my dinner while she chattered about school, and finally supervised her bath and tucked her into bed with a story. The routine was comforting, and exactly what I needed.

But once Thea was asleep, my mind began to wander again. Elijah was still busy, so I decided to just go to sleep and hope I didn’t wake up burnt to a crisp in the middle of the night.

Sleep came fitfully, filled with strange dreams about fire and bones and tiny hands reaching out from flames. In one particularly vivid nightmare, I was standing over Isabella’s grave when the ground suddenly erupted in fire, flames shooting up around me, consuming everything in their path.

I woke at some point during the night to a hand touching my shoulder. Still caught in the grips of my nightmare, I thought it was someone coming to take another child from me. Someone coming to take Thea.

I jolted upright with a scream, my hand flying out defensively into the dark room. The heat that had been building all day surged through me, concentrated in my palm, and then—

A jet of flame shot from my hand, arcing across the room to catch the edge of the bedroom curtains. The fabric ignited instantly, illuminating Thea’s terrified face.