Chapter 32: Muddy 1
MARGAUX
Voices drifted through the fog of half-consciousness like ghosts whispering secrets they thought no one could hear.
"Did you see it? The way he carried her?"
"His face..." Another voice joined the first, younger and breathless with something that sounded like awe. "Like he was terrified she’d actually die."
"It’s almost romantic." A third voice chimed in, dreamy and wistful in a way that made my stomach twist even through the haze. "I thought he hated her."
The first voice returned, lower now, and conspiratorial. "You know what they say, though. The line between love and hate is as thin as a razor’s edge."
Someone moved closer to wherever I lay. I felt the shift in air pressure more than I heard actual footsteps. My body remained still, heavy and unresponsive, despite my consciousness clawing its way back toward the surface.
"The Alpha has always held such disdain for the Beaumonts." The dreamy voice came again. "Goddess knows why he’d marry into that pack if he despises them so much."
"Well..." The younger one dropped her volume to barely above a whisper. "It must be his past. Given he’s not actually Alpha Theo and—"
"Hush!" The sharp command cut through the gentle murmuring like a blade. "You could get your tongue torn out for saying that where someone might hear."
"We’re alone." The younger-sounding one said, but it was clear that the younger voice had lost its confidence, as its tone turned sulky and defensive. "I’m just stating the truth. Everyone who was here before the transition knows—"
The tickle started in my throat without warning. I tried to suppress it, tried to keep my breathing even and shallow, so they’d continue talking. Maybe they’d reveal something useful. Something that would help me in the short or even long run. But the tickle intensified. My chest seized with the need to cough. I held it back for three seconds.
I counted even. To five. To seven.
Then it burst out of me in a wet, painful hack that felt like broken glass scraping up my esophagus.
Gasps erupted around me. I also heard fabric rustling, and the voices that had been so casual and gossipy moments before transformed into startled squeaks.
I forced my eyes open. The ceiling above me slowly swam into focus. It was painted cream, and the ornate molding spoke of money and tradition. This was not Étienne’s bedroom ceiling. This had to be somewhere else. Somewhere clinical and sterile, judging by the sharp scent of antiseptic that burned my nose.
Three Omegas stood clustered near the foot of my bed. They’d frozen mid-movement like children caught doing something forbidden. Their eyes were wide with shock and, perhaps, embarrassment at being overheard.
They dropped into synchronized bows so quickly I heard their knees hit the floor.
"Luna Margaux." The oldest one spoke first, her voice shaking slightly. "We’re so glad you’re awake."
It was the most pathetic lie I had ever heard, but I would take it.
I tried to sit up, but my body protested immediately, my muscles screaming in ways that suggested I’d been unconscious for longer than a few hours. My arms trembled as I pushed myself upright against the pillows someone had stacked behind me.
My hand went to my throat. The skin felt tender under my fingers, swollen and painful in a way that brought memories flooding back. I remembered the water closing over my face... I remembered my lungs burning as they filled with liquid instead of air. The terrible pressure holding me under while I struggled and failed to break free.
Then Étienne’s face above mine. His scarred features twisted with something I’d never expected to see directed at me.
Fear.
For me.
The memory made heat creep into my cheeks. My chest felt strange and tight in a way that had nothing to do with nearly drowning.
He was so scared we would get hurt. My wolf’s voice surfaced for the first time since I’d woken, in a soft and almost lovesick voice.
"I guess the old Étienne is still there somewhere." The words came out as a whisper I hadn’t meant to speak aloud.
The feeling that bloomed in my stomach was warm and that in a way felt dangerous. It felt almost like hope, and hope was the last thing I could afford right now. Whatever instinct had driven him to save me didn’t erase what he’d done in his bedroom before I’d nearly died. It didn’t change the humiliation or the psychological torture or the clear promise that worse things waited in my future.
I shoved the warmth down and buried it deep where it couldn’t confuse me further.
The Omegas had straightened from their bows. They stood in a nervous cluster, exchanging glances like they were deciding who should speak first.
"We’ll fetch the head healer to check on you." The oldest one gestured to the others. "He wanted to be notified the moment you regained consciousness."
They fled before I could respond. The door clicked shut behind them with a finality that left me alone in the sterile room with nothing but my thoughts and the phantom sensation of water filling my lungs.
The head healer arrived within minutes. He was older than I’d expected, maybe in his fifties, with grey threading through dark hair and the kind of weathered face that suggested he’d seen more than his share of tragedy. His eyes were sharp when they landed on me, assessing and clinical in a way that made me feel exposed despite being moderately clothed in what appeared to be a hospital gown.
"Luna Margaux." He moved to the chair beside my bed and settled into it with ease. "How are you feeling?"
I took stock of my body before answering. Everything hurt in a dull, pervasive way that suggested extensive trauma. My throat felt raw. My chest ached with each breath like my ribs had been bruised from the inside out.
"Fine." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. "Mostly fine."
His expression suggested he didn’t believe me. He pulled out a small penlight and shone it in my eyes, checking my pupils with mechanical efficiency.
"Was it discovered who tried to kill me?"
The question hung between us while he finished his examination. He clicked off the light and tucked it back into his coat pocket before meeting my gaze.
"I’m sure the Alpha is still investigating." His tone stayed carefully neutral. "You can help his case by telling us if you saw something. Any detail, no matter how small, could be significant."
I searched my memory of those horrible minutes in the bathtub. The water closing over my face. The pressure on my head and chest. The complete absence of anything physical to fight against.
"That’s the thing though." My voice came out rougher than intended, scraped raw from the ordeal. "I didn’t see anyone there."
He leaned forward slightly, his attention sharpening in a way that felt predatory rather than concerned.
"I couldn’t touch whoever did it." The words tumbled out faster now, desperate to make him understand. "I couldn’t pull away or grab them or fight back because there was nothing physical to grab. But someone was there. Something was there and that something held me under and it was like—"
I stopped when I registered the expression on his face. The way his eyes had gone distant and assessing. The slight downturn of his mouth that suggested he’d already formed a conclusion I wouldn’t like.