Chapter 153

Agnes

The house was as silent as a tomb when I returned from the bar.

I slipped off my shoes at the door, not wanting to wake Thea with the sound of my footsteps. The clock in the hallway read 1:13 AM, and there was still no sign of Elijah. No car in the driveway, no light on in his office. Nothing. Although, when I glanced at my phone, I did see one text:

“Something came up. Might not be home at all tonight. Talk later.”

The message soothed something inside of me, but not completely. I still had no idea where he was, or rather, who he was with.

Mason’s offer kept playing on repeat in my head, along with the memory of his warm hand on mine. Of course, I would never accept a marriage proposal for him. I didn’t love him anymore.

And yet…

For reasons I couldn’t completely explain, a tiny shred of me—perhaps some kind of hidden, nearly-forgotten part that had died along with our love all those years ago—wanted to say yes. Wanted to walk away from all of this and never look back.

But I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t. I’d made a promise from the very beginning to stay for Thea, no matter what, because she was as much a daughter to me as my own missing biological child. I wouldn’t abandon her over heartbreak.

I crept upstairs, pausing at Thea’s door. Carefully, I pushed it open and peeked inside. She was fast asleep, one arm wrapped tightly around her favorite stuffed wolf, the other splayed across the pillow. Not a care in the world.

I watched her for a moment, my heart aching. She was so innocent, so undeserving of the sort of ruthless drama that adults created. I didn’t want to believe that Elijah would do something as rash as remarrying the woman who had made his daughter’s life a living hell.

But then again, just as Mason said: mate bonds could make people do crazy things. Crazy, illogical, selfish things.

After closing her door, I quietly made my way to my bedroom. I changed back into my nightgown, brushed my teeth, and washed my face, trying to rinse away the smell of alcohol and the memory of Mason’s proposal. My reflection in the mirror looked tired. Maybe now I could sleep.

As I climbed into bed, my gaze fell on the small bottle of potion the witch had given me. It was supposed to help me communicate with my wolf, but after several attempts with no success, I’d nearly given up.

The witch had mentioned it contained a mild sedative to help induce a peaceful sleep. And peace was exactly what I needed right now.

Without giving it much thought, I uncorked the bottle and took a small sip. I set the bottle back on the nightstand and settled under the covers, hoping sleep would come quickly.

I didn’t expect to dream. The potion had never given me dreams before, just a deep, restful sleep. But tonight was different.

The house materialized around me, but it wasn’t the warm, lived-in home I knew. It was dark, shadows pooling in every corner. The air smelled musty and decrepit, and there was a strange stillness to everything, as if the house hadn’t been touched in years.

“Thea?” I called out. “Thea, where are you?”

No answer came. Just an echo of my own voice.

I moved through the hallway, my feet making no sound on the wooden floor. Everything was familiar, but slightly off—the pictures on the walls were faded, the furniture covered in a fine layer of dust.

I reached Thea’s bedroom door, which was closed. Something about it made me hesitate, although I couldn’t explain why—almost as if I might open the door and find nothing but an inky void beyond.

But after taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open anyway.

The room that greeted me was Thea’s, but it looked as if it had been abandoned for years. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, dust motes danced in the dim moonlight that filtered through the grimy windows. The once-bright colors of her bedspread and toys had faded to muted grays and browns.

“Thea?”

I stepped into the room, and the door suddenly slammed shut behind me. I spun around, grabbing the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. Locked.

Just then, a soft rustling sound came from the bed, drawing my attention. There was a small form under the covers, quivering slightly. Like she was hiding under the blankets, scared. Or maybe holding in laughter. It was hard to tell.

“Thea?” I said, relief flooding through me. “You scared me, honey.”

I approached the bed, reaching out to pull back the covers. But as my fingers closed around the fabric and pulled it back, a scream erupted from my throat.

Where Thea should have been, there was only a small skeleton, bones yellowed with age, empty eye sockets staring up at the ceiling. I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet and falling to the floor.

“No, no, no,” I gasped, scrambling away from the bed, my back hitting the wall. I gripped my hair, fingers tangling in my strands, and squeezed my eyes shut. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real.”

A cold draft swept through the room then, bringing with it the smell of decay. The skeleton seemed to twitch, as if trying to turn its head toward me.

I had to get out.

On my hands and knees, I scrambled to the door, reaching up to claw at the handle. To my surprise, it turned easily now, and I practically fell into the hallway.

But the hallway had changed. It was longer, darker, the walls seeming to pulse with shadows. The moment a ghostly hand began to stretch through the wall, pressing at the other side of the wallpaper, I knew I had to run.

And I did. Without hesitating, I scrambled to my feet and took off down the jet black hallway, my nightgown tangling around my legs and my throat raw from screaming.

Cold hands suddenly clutched at my back, ghostly fingers grazing my skin through the thin fabric of my nightgown. I tried to run faster, but more hands emerged from the darkness, wrapping around my throat, grabbing at my ankles, trying to drag me down.

“Help!” I screamed, but the sound was muffled, as if the darkness itself was swallowing my cries.

The hands pulled harder, their grip like ice against my skin. I thrashed against them, fighting with all my strength, but there were too many. I was being overwhelmed, dragged into the shadows.

Then, cutting through my terror like a beam of light, I heard it—a voice. Feminine, ethereal, beautiful in a way that transcended everything I knew and loved. I’d heard it before. Many times.

My wolf.

“I’m here…” her voice whispered, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “She’s here…”

She? Who was she? Olivia? Thea? Someone else?

“Go to our mate…” the voice continued. “He will protect us…”

Elijah, I thought. She’s talking about Elijah. I veered toward his study, opening my mouth to cry out his name. He would help me. I trusted him. Above all else, I trusted Elijah.

“Mason…”

That name stopped me in my tracks even as the ghostly hands continued to pull at me.

Mason? No, that couldn’t be right. Mason wasn’t my mate. Elijah was… wasn’t he?

But Elijah had the mate bond with Olivia. He was marked. And if he was planning to remarry her…

Could Mason truly be my mate? The one my wolf had been waiting for all this time?

The implications made my head spin. If Mason was my true mate, then…

The ghostly hands tightened their grip again, as if sensing my distraction. They dragged me down, the darkness closing in, suffocating me.

“No!” I fought harder, clawing at the empty air. “This isn’t real! Let me go!”

Through the panic, I heard another voice—masculine. Familiar.

“Agnes, wake up! Agnes!”

The world around me began to fragment, the shadows receding, the ghostly hands loosening their grip. I was being pulled up, away from the nightmare, toward the sound of Elijah’s voice.

“Agnes!”

My eyes shot open like a gunshot, and reality snapped back into focus. I was in my bed, the sheets tangled around me, soaked with cold sweat. My heart was racing and my throat was raw as if I’d actually been screaming and thrashing.

And Elijah was there, straddling me, his hands pinning my wrists to the bed.