Chapter 3 A Name That Haunts

Lyra POV

The weight of Dominic's arm across my waist felt like an iron shackle rather than a lover's embrace. His breath, still laced with whiskey, came in steady rhythms against my neck—right where a mating mark should have been. Right where it never was.

I lay rigid beside my sleeping husband, afraid the slightest movement might wake him. My eyes burned from unshed tears as I stared at the moonlight painting silver patterns on the ceiling. The same moon that had witnessed our union hours before—a union that ended with another woman's name on his lips.

Isabella.

The name echoed through my mind, foreign yet somehow familiar, like a ghost haunting the corners of this house I'd never truly been allowed to call home. My wolf paced restlessly inside me, confused and hurt. The mate bond hummed between us, undeniable yet incomplete without the marking. For two years I'd told myself it was some physical impediment preventing Dominic from completing our bond. Now I knew better.

My thoughts spiraled through the darkness. Who was she? When had she captured his heart so completely that even in our most intimate moment, it was her name he called? Was she still alive? Was she the reason he'd kept me from tonight's Moon Gathering—so he could meet with her first? And if his heart belonged to this Isabella, why keep me at all?

The question that wounded deepest sliced through me again: when he touched me, was it her he saw?

I turned my head slightly, studying Dominic's sleeping face. In repose, the hard angles of his jaw softened, making him look younger, vulnerable even. It was difficult to reconcile this man with the Alpha who ruled Crimson Pine Pack with unflinching authority. Harder still to reconcile him with the stranger who'd whispered another woman's name while inside me.

"We should confront him," my wolf urged, hackles raised in defiance.

Not yet. I needed strategy, not confrontation. I'd wait until morning, gauge whether he remembered what he'd said, and carefully extract what information I could.

With that decision made, I closed my eyes, feigning sleep while my mind continued its relentless vigil until dawn finally broke.

I heard Dominic stir and kept my breathing deep and measured, my eyes firmly shut. His weight shifted on the mattress as he rose, followed by the soft padding of his feet across the hardwood floor and the click of the bathroom door.

Only when the shower began running did I release the breath I'd been holding and open my eyes. I slipped from the bed, gathered my torn dress, and escaped to my own room, showering quickly and dressing in simple jeans and a forest-green sweater that hid the marks his rough handling had left on my skin.

I delayed going downstairs as long as possible, hoping Dominic would have left for his morning duties. But when I finally descended, I found him seated at our large dining table, two plates of untouched breakfast before him. His amber eyes locked on mine as I hesitated in the doorway.

"Lyra." My name on his lips sounded like an apology and an accusation simultaneously.

I stepped cautiously into the room, sliding into the chair opposite him. The space between us felt vast despite the relatively small table.

"About last night..." I began, my voice steadier than I expected.

"Last night was a mistake." Dominic cut me off, his tone clipped. "I shouldn't have done that."

I stared at him, momentarily stunned. So he did remember. I waited, expecting—hoping—for some explanation about Isabella, but his expression remained closed, giving nothing away.

"You were drunk," I offered, trying to open a path to the truth.

"That's no excuse." His jaw tightened as he pushed his plate away. "I lost control."

"Ask him about her," my wolf demanded, but caution held me back. If he wasn't volunteering the information, direct questioning would only put him on guard.

"Where did you go yesterday?" I asked instead, keeping my tone casual. "Before you came home."

Something flickered across his features—hesitation, perhaps guilt—before his expression smoothed into neutrality.

"It was the Moon Gathering," he said, as if that explained everything. "I attended as required, had too much to drink. I'm sorry."

The lie stung more than I expected. After two years of distance, I'd thought myself numb to his rejections, but this new deception cut deep.

"I see." I reached for the cold milk, grateful for something to do with my hands.

"I have matters to attend to." Dominic rose abruptly, towering over the table. "Pack business. Don't wait for me tonight."

He left without another word, his scent lingering in the air long after the front door closed behind him.

"He's hiding something," my wolf growled, and for once, we were in perfect agreement.

The days that followed felt like a weird kind of normal. Dominic didn’t bring up that night again, and he sure as hell didn’t try to get close to me. I searched every corner of Alpha house, combing through photo albums, records, even the pack registry. There was no trace of anyone named Isabella—not a single mention in any document I could find.

Frustration mounted with each empty lead. Had I imagined it? Was Isabella merely some common girl from Dominic's past, insignificant in the grand scheme of our lives? But the reverence with which he'd whispered her name told a different story.

By the fifth day, I'd exhausted all options within the house. I needed an ally, someone with knowledge of the pack's history who might speak freely. Serena, Marcus's wife and the female Beta of Crimson Pine, was my only real friend here—if "friend" wasn't too strong a word for our cautious association.

I found her at home, arranging flowers in a crystal vase. Her surprise at seeing me was evident in the slight raise of her eyebrows.

"Luna," she greeted me with a small bow of her head. "This is unexpected."

"I hope I'm not intruding." I smiled, trying to project a casualness I didn't feel. "I just needed some company."

Serena's home was warm and inviting, filled with handcrafted furniture and the scent of cinnamon. She led me to her sitting room, offering tea which I accepted gratefully.

"How have you been?" she asked, her tone gentle. "We've missed seeing you at pack functions."

A perfect opening. "Speaking of functions, I was curious about the Moon Gathering the other night."

"Oh?" She stirred honey into her tea, not meeting my eyes.

"I was wondering what Dominic did there. He came home quite late."

Serena's hands stilled, her brow furrowing slightly. "Dominic wasn't at the Gathering. He told Marcus he needed to be with someone important and left all duties to him." Her eyes met mine, curious. "I assumed he was with you, since you were absent as well."

The confirmation of his lie sent a chill down my spine, but I maintained my composure. "He was," I lied smoothly. "We spent a special evening together. I just wondered if he'd attended any of the ceremonies first."

"No," Serena said, relaxing slightly. "He didn't appear at all."

I took a deliberate sip of tea, steadying myself for what came next. "Serena, have you ever heard the name Isabella connected to anyone in the pack?"

The teacup in her hand trembled almost imperceptibly, but my enhanced senses caught the slight rattle against the saucer.

A flash of something—alarm?—crossed her features before she schooled her expression.