Chapter 5 – The Voice That Haunts Me

The dim light of the bar gave everything a grainy hue. Music still echoed faintly from the cheap speakers, but my mind was fixed on one thing—the woman who had just stepped off the stage.

She wasn’t like the others. There was something deeply strange about her outfit—layers of mismatched clothing that looked like a mix of thrift store and clown cosplay—but beneath the bizarre ensemble, I had seen something real. A flash in her eyes. A movement too smooth, too familiar.

I should have ignored her.

But I couldn’t.

Not when my wolf stirred the moment she opened her mouth.

That voice!!

I don’t want to believe it was that same voice from before. I may be hallucinating or probably I just don’t want to believe that the one at home is my mate.

Even going home now didn’t really please me.

That voice.

Five years. I had buried that night. Locked it behind steel in my memory. It wasn’t love or desire—it was instinct, primal and inescapable. My body had known her before my mind did.

And tonight, hearing her again—it was like waking a beast I thought I’d tamed.

I stared at the stage even after she vanished behind the curtain.

Mark clapped loudly beside me, still grinning. “That was a disaster in slow motion. But also… oddly mesmerizing. Like watching a cat trying to dance.”

I said nothing.

Mark raised a brow. “What? Don’t tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” I replied flatly.

“I’m thinking she’s cute in a chaotic kind of way.” He leaned forward on the table, calling a waiter. “Yo! Get the manager. I want to know who she is.”

The waiter nodded and jogged off.

I watched him go, my jaw locked. I didn’t stop Mark—not because I approved, but because part of me wanted to know too.

I needed a name and maybe….. hope.

And if Mark’s shallow curiosity could open the door, I wasn’t going to slam it shut.

“She probably just needed money,” I muttered.

Mark laughed. “Don’t we all? But that’s not what’s interesting.” He looked at me, sly. “You’re unusually quiet. You like her or something?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I wasn’t sure what I felt. Attraction? No. This wasn’t about romance. It was about recognition. Instinct. That voice haunted me. It curled inside my head like a whisper from the past.

“Mr. Devlin, Mr. Blackmoore,” the manager approached our table nervously. “You asked for the girl who just performed?”

Mark flashed a charming smile. “Yeah. The one in the…uh, rainbow catastrophe.”

“She’s new,” the manager said quickly. “Only fills in occasionally. Single mom. Keeps to herself. But she draws in a weird crowd, so I keep her on rotation.”

“Quite a business humor, huh?” Mark remarked

“Name?” I said sharply cutting in, in whatever Mark was going to say next.

The manager hesitated. “She doesn’t usually give her real name. Said she prefers to keep her work and personal life separate. Tonight, she went by—uh—Lulu Popcorn.”

“Lulu… Popcorn?” Mark repeated, nearly choking on his drink. “That can’t be real.”

“Pseudonym,” the manager confirmed with a kind of I don’t know look.

Mark chuckled. “Well, Miss Popcorn has an audience. She around?”

The manager looked uncomfortable. “She’s probably changing. She said she has to head out soon—kids at home or something. But if you’d like, I can call her over before she leaves.”

I gave a slight nod.

He turned and walked away.

“Do you actually care?” Mark asked, watching me with narrowed eyes. “Because you’re acting like a man about to start interrogating someone.”

I met his gaze. “She just seems familiar.”

“Familiar?” He snorted. “You sure it’s not your wolf acting up?”

That shut him up for a moment. He might’ve meant it as a joke, but the truth slithered under the words like a snake in the grass.

Because yes—my wolf was awake.

And agitated.

Even now, my blood boiled like I couldn’t wait to walk up to her and mark her once more.

A few minutes passed in silence before the crowd stirred again. The woman—Lulu Popcorn—was back. She’d changed out of the ridiculous costume and now wore a simple hoodie and jeans. Her face looked flushed from scrubbing off stage makeup. Her hair was down now—long, dark, and soft like I remembered.

The moment our eyes met, something inside me went still.

She froze for a second, then walked slowly toward our table. She kept her head high, though her eyes darted toward the exit like she was calculating how fast she could escape.

She probably had some wrong thought about being called to our table.

Mark stood and offered her a hand. “Great performance,” he said cheerfully.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice even.

Her voice.

That voice.

It was her.

Closer now, I could feel it. The scent. The slight shimmer of power beneath her skin—dormant, human, but threaded with something old.

“What’s your real name?” Mark asked, his grin wide.

She smiled tightly. “It’s Lulu. Lulu Popcorn.”

He chuckled. “C’mon, you don’t expect us to believe that.”

I leaned forward. “How many kids do you have?”

She blinked at me. Her smile faltered. “Excuse me?”

“Your manager said you had to go home to the Kids.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

Mark laughed again, clearly missing the tension. “Don’t mind Dom here—he’s just very direct. He never talks to women, so this is the closest thing to flirting he can manage.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get going.”

“I can drive you,” Mark offered eagerly. “It’s late. We’ve got a car outside.”

Her eyes flicked to me. “No, thanks. I’ll manage.”

“You sure? It’s no trouble or you married?”

My ears perked up for her answer but she deflected it.

“I said no.” She gave a tight smile, then turned and walked away quickly.

Mark whistled low. “Oof. Shot down.”

I stood and followed her without thinking.

Mark looked up, confused. “Dom?”

But I was already halfway across the bar.