Isla stared at Dominic, her eyes narrowing as she weighed her next move. He tilted his head slightly, silently daring her to oppose him. His grey eyes were more than just intimidating. They took her breath away. But she knew she needed to stand her ground. She didn't want to be seen as nothing but a pushover.
"No," she said firmly.
Dominic blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
"It's my phone," she continued. "We might be married on paper, but it's all fake. You don't get to interfere with my privacy."
Dominic stepped back, a strange twinkle lighting his eyes. He almost looked like he was pleased.
"Good," he said with a smirk. "You've got the right attitude."
He turned away, but Isla remained frozen in place, thrown off by his unexpected reaction. Her confusion only deepened as she asked, "How do you know Mikael Voss?"
Dominic stiffened and the air grew thick with tension.
"That's none of your business," he replied, his voice void of emotion.
"Really?" she shot back. "Is this how it's going to be?"
He turned to face her, his gaze turning icy. "Why don't you tell me why you were so desperate to marry a stranger?"
The words struck her like a blow to the chest, dragging memories to the surface. Memories she'd desperately tried hard to bury.
...
**Flashback**
"M-Mikael?" Isla whispered, dragging herself up to her knees. Her gaze fell on the unmoving form of her ex-boyfriend, dark red blood pooling around him in a growing puddle.
Panic swelled in her throat. He wasn't moving.
"I know you can hear me," she choked out, her voice trembling.
Still he didn't respond.
Pain radiated through her body as she bent over to nudge him. Bruises and gashes marred her skin, an ugly reminder of the horrifying violence he'd unleashed on her. Her torn panties clung to her and she tore them off with shaky hands. With her heart racing in her chest, she scrambled for her dress, her breathing erratic.
One last look at Mikael sent a chill ran down her spine. He wasn't supposed to die. He was a werewolf. Why wasn't he healing?
'We have to run,' her wolf, Spring, urged.
Isla whimpered, stumbling towards the door. The bruises on her thighs still burned from where his fingers had gripped her too tightly. Part of her prayed he would survive. The other part hoped he would stay dead.
---
Back in the present, Isla clenched her trembling hands into fists. "Like I said before," she snapped, "our marriage is fake. We don't owe each other anything."
Without waiting for a response, she stormed past Dominic.
"You don't need to worry about your things," he called after her. "They'll arrive soon."
She didn't respond. Upstairs, she shut the bedroom door behind her and slid down against it, her legs too weak to hold her up. Was marrying Dominic really the right decision?
---
Hours later, Isla jolted upright in bed, her heart racing. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. Still groggy, she pushed herself up and headed out the door in search of water. Her steps were unsteady, her mind still clouded with exhaustion.
As she walked down the dim corridor, a scent stopped her in her tracks—cedarwood and jasmine. The exact scent she remembered from the night she first met Dominic. It seeped through the half-open door of a nearby room.
Spring stirred within her, whimpering softly.
Mate, her wolf whispered.
Isla's breath caught in her throat.Her hand hovered near the doorknob, hesitant.
Then came the sounds of soft moans and grunts. She pushed the door open wider, her heart pounding.
The room was cloaked in darkness, moonlight casting faint patterns through the curtains. But it was enough for her to see the two figures tangled in the bed. A young dark haired woman was lying in bed while Dominic pounded into her from behind.
Her mind screamed at her to turn away, but her body was rooted to the spot. Anger and an unexplainable yearning warred within her.
His eyes locked with hers and he began to move his hips faster. The woman's moans rose higher and eventually, Dominic pulled away from her. She slumped forward on the bed and he got out of bed, stepping into what seemed to be the adjoining bathroom.
The moment the woman spotted Isla, she grabbed her dress in a panic and rushed out, her cheeks blazing.
Dominic's scent clung to every inch of the room. It made Isla dizzy.
"What the hell am I doing?" she muttered under her breath as she stepped further inside.
The bathroom door slid open, and her breath caught in her throat.
Out stepped Dominic, completely naked.
Her mouth went dry. He looked even more striking than she remembered. Wet, tousled hair clung to his face. Water trickled down his tattooed torso, over sculpted abs and along the ink winding down his ribs. His grey eyes gleamed, even in the dark.
He moved towards her like a predator stalking prey.
"What do we have here?" he murmured, cocking his head.
She struggled to speak because her thoughts were in total disarray.
Dominic lifted a hand, brushing his fingers along her chin. "What are you doing here?"
"You lied to me," she blurted out, her voice shaking.
His face remained unreadable.
"You're my mate. You knew that, didn't you?"
He didn't deny it. "Now that you know," he said, "what are you going to do? Reject me?"
The nerve of him to mock her and act like this meant nothing. Her fists clenched at her sides.
"You don't think I can?" she snapped.
Dominic arched a brow, leaning closer. "Go ahead. It's a dare. Reject me."
"I, Isla Del Cruz, reject—"
Before she could finish, his lips crashed against hers. The kiss was possessive, fierce, burning through every wall she'd built. And he was still naked, which made everything worse.
When he pulled away, his thumb caressed her cheek.
"You might regret it," he said.
"Regret what?" she asked, breathless.
"Using me. Did you think I helped you out of kindness?"
Her stomach dropped.
The anonymous text she'd received earlier resurfaced in her mind like a ghost. Doubt gripped her.
"How do you know my father? Why did you marry me?" she demanded.
A flicker of unreadable expression crossed his face. Then he turned away.
"I can't tell you that."
Frustrated, Isla grabbed his wrist and yanked him back. His eyes darkened as he pulled free.
"You really want to know why I agreed to marry you?" he asked in a low voice.
A lump formed in her throat.
"You're nothing but a means to an end," he said. "Specifically, a tool for my revenge against your father."
The words hit harder than any physical blow. Her heart sank, her but churning with disbelief.