Chapter 59: Who is Rachel?

Alyssa’s heart hammered against her ribs, her curiosity instantly piquing. No one else in the mansion dared to utter Elvira’s name, and she had been dying to know the truth, dying to know how Dorian had supposedly killed the woman everyone called his first love.

"I am sure you are aware that Dorian is well over a century old," Morgana began, her voice dropping to a low, secretive tone.

Alyssa nodded slowly, leaning forward eagerly. "I’m aware."

"Good. Dorian found Elvira on his thirty-fifth birthday," Morgana murmured, her eyes distant. "I still remember that day as if it were yesterday. She was his mate."

"She was also the last surviving member of a fallen bloodline, reduced to a mere slave," Sage cut in sharply. "The night Dorian found her, he saved her from her captor."

Alyssa’s breath hitched. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Why did that story sound so hauntingly familiar? It was almost the exact way Dorian had saved her from Gerald.

"He married her, of course," Morgana said, taking a slow sip of her tea. "But then, the unthinkable occurred."

Alyssa sat on the edge of the velvet cushion, her gaze locked onto Morgana’s lips.

"Dorian’s cousin, Joffrey, targeted her. We never understood why he would dare cross a sacred mate-bond, but his jealousy was a sickness. He always coveted everything that belonged to Dorian. It started the very moment Dorian was crowned Alpha of the North over him."

"But Joffrey wasn’t the rightful heir," Alyssa protested, defending the husband she was only beginning to understand. "Dorian was the true successor, wasn’t he?"

"By blood, yes," Morgana nodded. "But Dorian was wild in his youth, volatile and dangerous. Joffrey believed himself far more suited for the throne, and he was the oldest. When the crown ultimately went to Dorian, Joffrey lost his mind. He swore a quiet vow to strip away everything Dorian loved."

The deep-seated, bloodthirsty hatred between Dorian and Joffrey suddenly made sense to Alyssa.

"One winter, while Dorian and his warriors were away on a hunt, Joffrey slipped into the mansion," Morgana whispered, leaning in closer. "He drugged Elvira and slept with her. When she fell pregnant and delivered a child, Joffrey publicly revealed the treason. A DNA test was conducted before the high council, and when the truth came out, Dorian was completely shattered."

"Oh, Goddess," Alyssa breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. "What did he do?"

Morgana hesitated, her eyes flickering toward the closed door as she chose her next words with extreme care. "We do not know the exact details. We were not here when it happened, and only heard from the servants."

She paused, the silence in the room turning suffocating.

"But people said Dorian lost his mind to his beasts. He chased Elvira to the edge of the northern cliffs. In his fury, he pushed her over the edge, along with the newborn child."

Alyssa’s blood ran cold. Her lungs seized, her hands trembling so violently she had to set her saucer down before it shattered. She had assumed Pandora was exaggerating when she said Dorian had killed Elvira. But a newborn child? He had thrown a baby off a cliff?

"Conri and Bethany were present when it happened," Sage murmured softly. "They confirmed neither Elvira nor the child survived the fall. As punishment, Joffrey was banished from the North for twenty years. But since that day, Dorian has locked his heart in an icy fortress. He blames himself for Elvira’s death, which is why he forbids anyone from speaking her name."

"Which is also why we were stunned when we heard rumors of a new bride he was fiercely protective of," Morgana said, her eyes searching Alyssa’s pale face. "We had to see the girl who managed to thaw him out."

Sage leaned forward and patted Alyssa’s knee. "Dorian clearly treasures you. But you must remember, a Lycan only gives his heart once, and he gave it to Elvira. We’re telling you this because you need to know before falling for him."

Alyssa couldn’t speak. Her mind was a chaotic storm of horror and denial. Pandora had been totally wrong when she said Dorian loved her; he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Yet, beneath the paralyzing fear of the story, something flared within her. She was ready to stake her life on the belief that Dorian, the man who held her so gently in the dark, would never intentionally murder a mother and her infant.

An essential piece of the story was missing. And she knew Dorian was the only one who could give it to her, if he ever broke his silence.

Forcing her racing heart to slow, she pulled a tight, polite smile onto her face. "Thank you for telling me. It makes the rivalry between Dorian and Joffrey much clearer."

"Of course, dear," Sage beamed, clearly pleased with herself. "But let this remain strictly between us. And be wary of Joffrey Lowell."

Their conversation finally drifted to safer shores. They asked about her upbringing in the South, her family, and her childhood.

When Alyssa quietly explained she was an orphan and possessed no memories of her childhood, the aunts offered soft, sympathetic murmurs.

The tension slowly dissipated. Pandora eventually slipped into the room, and the women lost themselves in lighthearted pack chatter.

Then, a sudden knock rattled the door.

Pandora rose and pulled it open, frowning at the tensed guard standing in the corridor.

"Yes?"

"The Alpha King requests the presence of the entire family in the living room immediately," the guard reported, bowing his head. "Luna Kalista has arrived."

Sage rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, Goddess. That insufferable witch. I didn’t think she would actually make the journey from Stonecrest."

"I am truly not in the mood to endure her lecturing tonight," Morgana groaned, standing up and smoothing her skirts.

Alyssa looked between the aunts, then glanced at Pandora. "Who is Luna Kalista?"

"My father’s sister," Pandora explained, her tone dripping with boredom. "The oldest living female of the Hellborne line. You’ve met Uncle Conri, now you get to meet Aunt Kalista. She’s a pain in everyone’s butt."

Despite her anxiety, Alyssa felt a small flicker of amusement at how universally disliked the woman seemed to be.

"How old is she?"

"Two hundred and eighty-five, and she still rules her pack with an iron fist," Sage sighed. "We had better go before she sends her guards to drag us out."

Alyssa let out a soft laugh as she followed them out of the room. Inwardly, she prayed the matriarch would prove more like Sage and Morgana, and less like the tyrannical Conri.

Dorian was already waiting at the base of the stairs when they descended. The moment his eyes found Alyssa, his stoic expression melted.

He reached out, wrapping his hand securely around hers and pulling her against his side, his arm locking possessively around her waist.

"Are you alright?" he murmured against her ear, his scent washing over her.

She smiled up at him, pushing the horrifying cliffside story to the back of her mind. "I am. Your aunts are wonderful."

Dorian hummed softly, his thumb tracing her hip.

Suddenly, the front doors swung open. Two guards marched in, flanking a robust, striking woman who carried herself with a terrifying authority.

Kalista Hellborne, Luna of Stonecrest Pack, stepped into the light.

She was draped in a flowing black gown, her hands clasped rigidly behind her back. With her short, silver-streaked brown hair and piercing green eyes, she looked every bit the ruthless matriarch of their ancient bloodline.

Yet, as Alyssa stared at the older woman, she didn’t feel the paralyzing dread she had felt with Conri. Instead, a strange, electric shock of recognition flared in her chest, like she had seen Kalista before, a long time ago.

Kalista stopped in the center of the living room, her cold gaze sweeping over the gathered family.

But the moment her green eyes landed on Alyssa, she froze. The color drained from her face. Her hands fell to her sides, her mouth parting in sheer shock.

"Rachel?" she gasped, her voice barely a whisper as if she were looking at a ghost.

Alyssa’s brow furrowed, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of her neck.

Who is Rachel?