Chapter 17

OLIVIA’S POV A soft, warm touch brushed against my forehead. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. The sensation was unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh reality I had been living in. My eyelids fluttered open, and through my hazy vision, I saw him. Dominic. He was leaning over me, his large, calloused hand pressed against my forehead as if checking for a fever. His face was close, too close, and for just a heartbeat, I forgot everything. I forgot the pain. I forgot the dungeon. I forgot the betrayal. It had been so long since he had touched me with anything other than indifference or anger. My heart betrayed me before my mind could stop it, leaping with joy at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he cared. But then I met his gaze. Cold. Impersonal. Detached. The warmth I had felt just seconds ago was nothing but an illusion. He wasn’t touching me out of concern. He wasn’t here for me. The only thing he cared about was the child in my womb. How can I forget that again and again when he had clearly said that he only worries about the baby and not me. I felt my stomach twist with shame at my foolish hope. How many times was I going to make the same mistake? How many times would I allow myself to believe there was still a place for me in his heart? Instinctively, I curled up slightly, pulling the blanket closer to myself as if it could shield me from the invisible distance between us. My voice came out small, hesitant. "Did I… do something wrong again?" I hated how weak I sounded. I hated that he had made me this way. Dominic didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. And then, his next words caught me completely off guard. "Olivia," he said slowly, as if testing the weight of my name. "Did you really have nothing to do with Elder Alyosha’s death?" I sucked in a breath. He was asking me. Really asking me. I was with him that night. Yes, I visited the elder but only for a brief period and he really thought that in that amount of time, I was able to kill him and come out of it without being touched. For the first time, he wasn’t throwing accusations. He wasn’t condemning me before I could defend myself. A flicker of something—hope?—bloomed inside me. I opened my mouth, ready to nod, to swear to him that I had nothing to do with it. That I had never hurt the man who had saved me. That no matter how much I had suffered in this pack, I would never be capable of something so monstrous. But before I could get a single word out— "Dominic?" A familiar voice sliced through the fragile moment like a blade. I turned my head toward the doorway. There she was. Evelyn. Always there, always behind Dominic. I should have known that he wouldn’t come alone to see me. Dressed in a soft, flowing gown, her hair styled effortlessly to give the appearance of someone delicate, fragile—vulnerable. The perfect act. Her sharp eyes flickered between Dominic and me, and in that moment, I knew exactly what she was thinking. She didn’t like what she saw. Especially after that clear warning. But I had no time to react before she did what she did best. She played the victim. Her breath hitched, and just like that, tears began streaming down her face, her lower lip quivering as if she had just walked in on something terrible. "I—I’m sorry," she whispered brokenly. "I didn’t mean to interrupt." I nearly laughed. What a joke. I had seen this performance a thousand times before, but it never ceased to amaze me how effortlessly she could switch from manipulator to poor, wounded girl in an instant. I clenched my fists beneath the blanket, my nails digging into my palms as I forced myself to stay silent. Evelyn turned to Dominic, sobbing as she spoke. "I was just… worried about Olivia. I wanted to check on her. She’s carrying your child, after all. But I see that you’re already here." My stomach churned at her fake sincerity. She looked at me then, her golden eyes shimmering with false kindness. "I really hope you’re feeling better, Olivia. I know this must be so hard for you." The bile rose in my throat. I turned away from her, refusing to acknowledge her presence. But she wasn’t done. With a soft sniffle, she shifted closer to Dominic, tilting her head up at him as if she was seeking comfort. "Dominic," she whispered, "every time I close my eyes, I can still feel it… the torment of the wolf poison running through my veins. The pain, the helplessness. The beatings, the humiliation. They told me I would never be a true Luna. That I would never belong." Her voice cracked at the end, and I watched as Dominic’s entire body stiffened. I already knew what was coming next. His face softened. His cold, unreadable mask crumbled, replaced with sympathy. The way he looked at her—concerned, guilty, protective—was something I had never seen directed at me. My heart twisted violently, but I forced myself to keep my expression blank. He moved before I could blink, stepping away from me and toward her without hesitation. I watched as he reached out and took her hand. Gently. Affectionately. Like it was second nature to him. Like I had never existed. And then, without looking back—without sparing me so much as a second glance—he led her away. The door clicked shut behind them, and the silence that followed was deafening. I stared at the empty space where he had stood, where just moments ago, I had almost believed there was still something left between us. How foolish. A shaky breath escaped me, my throat tightening. So he was capable of caring for someone after all. It was just never going to be me. Slowly, I placed a trembling hand over my belly. And at last—after holding them back for so long—the tears came.