Chapter 200

Agnes

Olivia stood pressed against the wall of her cell, her eyes darting from me to the tray of tea and cookies I’d set on the small desk.

“Would you like to sit?” I asked, gesturing to the lone chair at the desk. When she didn’t move, I added, “I promise I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Right,” she scoffed, but she edged away from the wall. “I totally believe that.”

I bit back a sharp retort. As much as I wanted to throw an insult back at her just as we’d done so many times before, I restrained myself. “Please, just sit. The tea will get cold.”

With reluctance, Olivia lowered herself into the chair. I poured the tea into the two cups I’d brought, then pushed one toward her along with the plate of cookies.

Olivia stared at the offering, making no move to touch it. “You think I’m stupid enough to eat or drink anything you give me?”

I sighed, then picked up her cup and took a long sip. I set it back down in front of her, then selected one of the cookies and bit into it. “See? Not poisoned. Just chamomile tea and chocolate chip cookies.”

She watched me chew and swallow, then waited another minute as if expecting me to keel over from some slow-acting toxin. When I remained upright and breathing, she cautiously took a small sip of the tea, then a tiny nibble of a cookie.

“So,” she said, setting the cup down, “what do you want?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “The DNA results came back.”

Olivia’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the slight tightening of her jaw. “And?”

“Thea is our daughter—mine and Elijah’s. And the bones in the cave were your baby’s.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know. I told you that was the case.”

Of course she did. She’d lived it. She’d given birth in that dark, cold cave, only to have her child be stillborn. Then she’d stolen my baby and passed her off as her own.

“I wanted to thank you,” I said, surprising myself as much as her. “For telling Elijah the truth. It was the right thing to do.”

Olivia laughed hollowly. “Don’t thank me, Agnes. I didn’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I want to get out of here as soon as possible, and I’m willing to negotiate to make that happen.”

“Even so. You could have continued lying, but you didn’t.”

She shrugged, looking away. “What else do you want? I’m sure you didn’t come here just to thank me or bring me sympathy cookies.”

“Actually, I have something else for you.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded document, sliding it across the desk toward her. “It’s a day pass. It’ll allow you one day out of prison. With a chaperone, of course.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. She snatched the paper up and scanned it quickly. “Why would you do this?”

“Because we had to exhume the baby’s bones for the DNA test,” I said gently. “We’re going to rebury them tomorrow morning. If you want to be there, we could hold a small ceremony.”

She blinked, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “And what’s the catch?”

“There isn’t one,” I replied with a shrug. “You can use the pass for anything you want, within reason. But I thought you might want to be there for your child’s burial.”

For a long moment, Olivia was silent, her fingers tracing the edges of the day pass. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it. “Why would you want me there? After everything I’ve done to you?”

I considered the question carefully. It was a fair one. By all rights, I should hate her. And I did hate her, really. She’d stolen my baby, kept me from Elijah, cursed my wolf, manipulated everyone around her for years. But sitting here, looking at her without her masks and schemes, I saw something else. Someone else. Someone a lot more like myself than I wanted to admit.

“Because I know what it’s like to feel alone and desperate,” I finally said. “My situation wasn’t like yours, but I understand the pain of losing a child—or in my case, believing for seven years that I’d lost her.”

Something in Olivia’s face softened slightly, a crack appearing in her carefully constructed armor. For the first time since I’d met her, I caught a glimpse of genuine emotion.

“I’d like to come,” she said quietly, tucking the day pass into her pocket. “To the ceremony.”

I nodded, relieved. It was the right thing to do, regardless of our history. Everyone deserves the chance to say goodbye to their child.

“Why hasn’t Elijah unmarked me yet?” she asked abruptly. “He could do it, you know. Kill me and be rid of me for good.” Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. It was strange seeing that smile without her usual red lipstick. “It would solve all your problems. You could mark each other properly. And after what I did, maybe I even deserve it.”

“We don’t want to kill anyone, Olivia,” I said firmly. “Not even you. Despite everything, you still deserve to live, just like anyone else.”

“So noble,” she muttered, but there was less venom in her voice than usual.

“We’re going to find another way to unmark you,” I continued. “One that doesn’t harm you.”

Olivia looked down at her hands, and I caught something in her expression—a flicker of sadness, perhaps. Despite everything, I realized that she had genuinely cared for Elijah in her own way. Maybe even loved him, as much as someone like her could.

“Let him go, Olivia,” I said softly, reaching across the desk to gently touch her hand. “Give yourself the opportunity to find someone who loves you as much as you love them.”

Olivia pulled her hand away from mine with a sneer, but not before I saw the way my words had affected her. She might not be ready to admit it, but a part of her knew I was right.

“Time’s up, Luna Agnes,” the guard called from outside.

I stood, gathering the now-empty cups. I left the plate with the remaining cookies. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then? Eight in the morning, by the willow tree.”

The following morning dawned clear and bright, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the willow tree. Elijah and I were the only ones there, aside from the priest. The tiny casket sat nearby, freshly polished and free of dirt.

“Are you sure about this?” Elijah asked, his arm around my waist. “Having her here?”

I nodded. “It’s the right thing to do.”

A car pulled up on the winding road near the garden, and two figures emerged—Olivia in a simple black dress, her hair pulled back, and a uniformed guard a respectful distance behind her. She approached slowly.

“Thank you for coming,” I said once she had stopped beside us. She kept her distance, standing a few feet away from us. Elijah hardly looked at her, and she didn’t look at him at all, or even me. She just stared at the tiny casket.

I knew that look all too well. The realization that such a casket is far too tiny.

The ceremony was brief but heartfelt. Elijah, to his credit, spoke a few kind words. I placed a small bouquet of wildflowers on the casket that I’d picked that morning before it was lowered into the ground for the second time.

Olivia stood silently throughout, tears tracking silently down her cheeks. When it was time, she stepped forward and placed a single white lily on top of the casket.

“Isabella...” she murmured. She looked up, meeting my eyes for the first time all morning. “I never named my baby before she...” She shook her head, more tears welling up. Her lips quivered. “It’s a nice name, Agnes. Pretty. I think I’m going to call her that from now on, if that’s alright with you.”

I nodded, blinking away my own tears.

We watched in silence as the groundskeeper began filling in the grave. When it was done, Elijah and I left Olivia alone for a few minutes, giving her space. She knelt in the dirt, bowing her head. Her shoulders shook, and I could hear her sobs from afar. Elijah tensed beside me, but didn’t go to her.

“It’s time to go, ma’am,” the guard finally said gently to Olivia. “Your pass is only good until noon.”

Olivia nodded, taking one last look at the fresh grave. She then stood, leaning on the guard for support as they began heading toward the waiting car. But after a few steps, she paused and looked back at us.

“There is a way to unmark a mate,” she said, looking at Elijah. “I read it in the book, in one of the pages I destroyed. Give me a day to write down what I remember, and I’ll help you.”