Chapter 68

Agnes

The officer at the desk stared up at us for a moment, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and Elijah. My pulse was pounding a mile a minute beneath my skin in that weighted silence, and I immediately regretted coming here. I regretted it even more when the officer said those next words.

“I’m sorry, but that case has been closed for too long.”

Elijah’s eyebrows shot up. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The officer sighed. “Once a case is deemed inactive, it remains that way unless there’s new, compelling evidence.” He glanced at me, and I could feel the judgment hidden behind his eyes. Just like everyone else. Everyone except for Elijah, apparently. “Unless you have some new evidence for us…”

My heart sank at that; of course I didn’t have any new evidence. I knew this was a possibility, but hearing it out loud felt like someone had punched me in the chest. My voice came out far too small for my liking as I said, “No, I don’t…”

The officer shook his head. “Then we can’t reopen the case. I’m sorry.”

And just like that, he returned his gaze to his computer—as if the matter of my missing baby was nothing more than an inconvenience.

I should have known that it would come to this. I had heard this same song and dance far too many times, and it was why I had decided to take matters into my own hands all those years ago.

Not enough evidence. That was always what they said.

As if my child’s life meant nothing more than a fingerprint or a hair sample.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard enough to taste blood. For a moment, I thought Elijah would let it go, that this would be the end of it all over again, and I would leave here defeated, just as I had so many times before.

But he didn’t.

“Perhaps you’re not understanding me.” He leaned slightly over the desk, his piercing gaze locking onto the receptionist’s. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you to find someone who can reopen the case. Now.”

The receptionist blinked, clearly startled. His gaze darted from Elijah to me yet again, and I saw the hesitation in his eyes. “Sir, as I said, without evidence—”

“It’s Alpha Elijah Silvercrest,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to an icy timbre. “If you’re unable to assist, then I suggest you find someone who can.”

The officer’s breath hitched, and the color drained from his face as the weight of Elijah’s icy command hit him. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes wide going as he realized that he had just been commanded by his Alpha—no room for argument.

Then, with a stiff nod, he muttered something about “checking with a higher-up” before scurrying away.

I stared at Elijah as the door swung shut behind the officer, my mouth slightly open. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly without even looking at me. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on the hallway that the receptionist had just disappeared down. “I’m not going to sit idly by while my Luna’s child could be out there somewhere, alive and missing her mother.”

Something about the way he said it—the certainty in his voice, the conviction, the use of the word Luna—made my throat tighten all over again. I wanted to thank him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just nodded, clutching my hands tightly in front of me.

It wasn’t long before a different officer emerged from the hallway, his expression serious but not unkind. “Alpha, Luna. Please, come with me.”

The room he led us to was small and nondescript, with a single table and a few chairs. As we sat down, the officer slid a notepad in front of him, his pen poised to write. “I understand you would like to reopen a case concerning a missing child. Can you tell me a little more about it?”

Both Elijah and the officer turned to me.

I hesitated, my hands trembling in my lap. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I’d recounted this story far too many times for comfort, cried too many tears that had gone ignored. I had poured my heart out on more than one occasion, only to be faced with ridicule.

But as I glanced over at Elijah, I felt the knot in my stomach loosen, even if only a little.

He wasn’t ridiculing me. He wasn’t judging. And maybe we weren’t truly in love in that way, but he hadn’t been lying when he had said he was my partner. My equal.

He was here to comfort me. And he was here to listen.

I took a shaky breath and began. “It was seven years ago. My daughter was taken from me when she was just a few weeks old. The authorities said she had probably died, but… I’ve never believed that. I’ve spent every day since then searching for her. No one has ever taken me seriously. They all think I’m crazy.” My voice broke, and I covered my mouth, trying to pull myself together.

The officer nodded slowly, his gaze softening a touch. I had a feeling he might not have been so understanding without Elijah here, but it didn’t matter. “Take your time.”

I felt Elijah shift beside me, and then his arm was around my shoulders, pulling me close. It wasn’t a romantic gesture—it was something deeper, something more meaningful. He was steadying me, letting me lean on him when I felt like I couldn’t keep going. For a moment, I let myself rest against him, drawing strength from his warmth.

“I don’t have any new evidence,” I admitted, my voice hardly more than a whisper. “But I can feel it. My daughter is still out there. I don’t know where, and I don’t know how, but she’s alive. I know she is.”

The officer didn’t interrupt, his pen moving quietly across the notepad as he took notes. When I finally finished telling my story, the room fell silent. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, so loud I wondered if they could both hear it.

But then the officer nodded. “Alright. I’ll reopen the case.”

My breath caught in my throat. “You will?”

He offered a small smile. “It’s not every day that someone comes in with this much determination after so many years. If you believe your daughter is still out there, then we’ll do everything we can to help you find her.”

Hot tears began to prick at the backs of my eyes, but this time, they weren’t from pain or anguish. They were from something else—something that I was still afraid to name, but I knew it had been there all this time, hiding in the back of my chest.

I nodded, unable to find the words to express how much this meant to me. But I didn’t need to. Elijah’s arm tightened briefly around my shoulders before he released me, his expression unreadable as he thanked the officer for both of us.

After that, we left the station in silence. As we walked back to the car, Elijah’s hand found mine for the briefest of moments.

“You did great in there,” he said quietly as we reached the car. “You were… brave.”

I swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were immediately threatening to spill over again. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He didn’t reply, but the gentle squeeze of his hand before he opened my door for me said enough.

The drive home was quiet, Thea dozing in the backseat with her new bear clutched tightly to her chest. I stared out the window, watching the scenery blur past, and for the first time in years, I felt a flicker of something I thought I had lost a long, long time ago.

Hope.