Claimed by the scarred Alpha

SÉVERINE

A plan formed in my mind with terrible clarity. Prim. The Omega who’d been assigned to serve me since I’d arrived at this estate. The one who watched me with suspicious eyes and asked too many questions and disappeared at odd hours, doing goddess knew what.

"Well, I have about gotten tired of that poke-nosed Omega put in my charge." I kept my voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry to anyone passing by. "I bet she is in my room now, ransacking for something."

My familiar made a sound that might have been agreement. Then the buzzing stopped. He’d gone to scout ahead. To confirm my suspicions before I walked into whatever confrontation was waiting.

I moved through the estate with purpose now. Down one hallway and then another. Past closed doors and empty sitting rooms and all the trappings of wealth that suddenly felt suffocating instead of impressive.

My room sat at the end of the wing. The door stood slightly ajar. I’d left it closed this morning. Locked even, because I’d learned years ago that privacy was a luxury you had to fight for in pack houses where everyone thought they had a right to your space.

I pushed it open slowly. The hinges made no sound, indicating they’d used tools rather than brute force.

Prim stood by my bed, her hands moving over the sheets with practiced efficiency—smoothing out wrinkles that weren’t there and fluffing pillows that didn’t need it. She was merely playing the role of a dutiful Omega performing her assigned chores.

But her eyes, though, told a different story. They were too alert. Too focused on her surroundings instead of the work her hands performed. She was looking for something. Searching while pretending to clean.

She pretended like it was only now she noticed me standing in the doorway. Her spine straightened, and then she dropped into a bow that would have looked respectful if I hadn’t known better.

"Luna Séverine." Her voice came out smooth and pleasant. "Are you not going down for breakfast? I wanted to use the time to clean the room, and so I used the spare key—"

"So when did you start suspecting I was a witch?"

The question cut through her explanation like a blade. Her eyes went wide. Shock flickered across her face before she could school her expression back into neutral pleasantness.

"What?"

I stepped fully into the room and let the door swing shut behind me. The lock clicked into place without me touching it. Magic hummed beneath my skin, eager to be used after hours of restraint.

"You heard me." I moved closer. "That is why you are wary of me and digging through my stuff, right?"

Prim’s throat worked as she swallowed. Her hands clenched in the fabric of her apron. "I am not sure what you are talking about, Luna. But I will leave you be. It seems like..."

She did not finish as she made her move toward the door with steps that tried to look casual but came out too fast and way too urgent.

Fear rolled off her in waves that I could taste on the back of my tongue.

I moved aside and let her.

The door wouldn’t budge when she reached it. She pulled at the handle. Once. Then twice. Then harder with both hands as her breathing picked up.

"Did that feel good?" I asked conversationally. "Did it further confirm your suspicions like you wanted them to?"

She turned to face me. Her back pressed against the wood, as if it could offer protection. "If anything happens to me, I have friends I have told about you. If so much as the hair on my head is touched, you will be exposed for the monster that you are."

The lie was obvious. She was desperate, and that was what played against her the most. This was the kind of bluff someone made when they had no other cards to play.

Shadows gathered in the corner of our vision. My familiar shifted from his mosquito form into something more substantial. Humanoid but wrong in ways that made mortal eyes want to look anywhere else. His blue gaze fixed on Prim with the patience of something that had existed for centuries and would exist for centuries more.

"I watched you for months." His voice filled the room in a flat and detached manner. "You did not tell anyone. After all, accusing a Luna would be a great sin without proof. And proof is the one thing you wanted to have before you sang like a canary."

Prim’s face went pale. She looked between my familiar and me. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Fear had stolen her voice.

Good. Let her be afraid. Let her understand exactly how badly she’d miscalculated when she’d decided to spy on me. When she’d started digging into things that were none of her concern.

"You wanted evidence." I took another step closer. "Something concrete you could bring to whoever you were planning to tell. Laurent maybe? Or perhaps you thought you’d go straight to the Alpha with your suspicions?"

Her silence was confirmation enough.

"The problem is that you were always going to be too late." I smiled. The expression felt wrong on my face. Too sharp. Too cruel. But I couldn’t bring myself to care about maintaining the facade anymore. "Because by the time you had enough proof to act on, I would already know you were looking."

Magic crackled between my fingers. Small sparks that lit up the space between us. Prim’s eyes tracked the movement with the kind of terror that came from finally understanding how far out of her depth she’d swum.

"So here is what is going to happen." I let the magic unfold, revealing to her exactly what she had been suspecting all along. "You are going to take the fall for the attack on Margaux. You are going to confess to working with rogues to infiltrate the estate. And you are going to accept whatever punishment Étienne decides is appropriate."

"No." The word came out choked. "I did not—"

"You did." My familiar moved closer. His presence made the air feel heavier. "Or you will have. The details do not matter. What matters is that someone needs to be blamed, and you have made yourself the perfect candidate. It is either that or you die."

Prim slid down the door until she hit the floor. Her knees pulled up to her chest. Tears streamed down her face while she shook her head in denial that meant nothing.

I watched her fall apart with detachment that should have bothered me. It should have made me question what I’d become. But all I felt was satisfaction. Cold, sharp, and absolute.

The girl looked back up and then said, "I will not be the puppet of a witch."

My familiar heard that and laughed. It then tilted its head at me. "It looks like she believes she has a choice in the matter."

"I find that just as fascinating."

He turned back to face Prim. "Shall I begin the preparations then, Mistress?"

"Yes." I turned away from Prim’s crying form. "Make it a convincing story. Make it something Étienne will believe without question."

Magic filled the room. Thick enough to taste. My familiar went to work while I stood at the window and looked out over the gardens where Margaux was probably still dying. Where Étienne had probably already reached her. Where the mate bond I’d been denying existed was probably pulling them closer together with every passing second.

Prim’s sobs behind me intensified, growing more desperate as she pleaded for mercy, but I had no intention of relenting.

I closed my eyes against the sound and let my familiar do what needed to be done.

Fucking her memories up.