Claimed by the scarred Alpha

VIVIANNE

We walked toward my car together, our footsteps synchronized in the way that came from years of walking side by side. The Sentinel waiting by the vehicle straightened when he saw us approaching and moved to open the rear door.

"Leave us." Lucian’s voice carried casual authority. "I’ll drive my sister home."

I turned to look at him in surprise. He rarely drove anywhere himself, preferring to be chauffeured so he could work or make calls during transit.

He met my eyes and smiled that same lazy smile that had charmed everyone since we were children.

I nodded to the Sentinel, who handed over the keys without question and disappeared into the night. Lucian slid into the driver’s seat while I settled into the passenger side, the leather cool against my skin through the thin fabric of my dress.

The engine purred to life. We pulled out of the courtyard and onto the main road, leaving the reception hall and all its ghosts behind us.

"You should start pushing for your first son to get married."

The statement came out of nowhere. I turned to stare at him, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead.

"I’m already in talks with Pack Texier."

A scoff escaped before I could stop it. "What did you offer them?"

"What was necessary to ensure marriage." His fingers drummed against the steering wheel in a rhythm I recognized from childhood. "Once the threat of Valcourt came, I suspected it would come to this and made a move."

He glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to the road. "There’s just something off about that Valcourt boy. I can’t decipher his motive and his obsession with Beaumont."

The words settled heavily in the space between us. I thought about Théo Valcourt’s masked face and the way he’d looked at Margaux like she was something he wanted to destroy slowly.

"Boys unlike girls are not easy to mold." My voice came out quieter than I’d intended. "Bastien will fight back."

"Convince him, Vivianne."

The use of the name here and in this space made something cold slide down my spine. I turned to look at him more fully. "We’re alone, you know. You don’t need to—"

His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and the expression in them made my words die in my throat. Cold. Assessing. The kind of look he gave people who’d forgotten their place.

"It’s been plenty of years, Vivianne." Each syllable came out precise and deliberate. "Don’t keep disappointing me."

I turned away and stared out the window at the passing trees. My reflection in the glass looked pale and drawn, more ghost than woman.

"Before my daughter was taken, she wanted to know the fate of that boy." The confession slipped out before I could stop it. "Étienne."

I watched his reflection carefully. He didn’t react. Didn’t even blink. He just kept driving with that same casual confidence he always wore.

"What about the boy?"

My hands twisted together in my lap. "Did you keep your promise to her? Did you save him?"

"No." The word came out flat and final. "No, I didn’t."

Something cracked in my chest. "But you left that night. You said—"

"Yes, I had more engagements." He made a turn onto the estate road, the headlights cutting through the darkness ahead. "It wasn’t easy saving your skin."

Tears burned behind my eyes. I pressed my palm against my mouth to hold back the sob that wanted to escape. "This feels like karma for what we did."

"There’s no such thing as karma." His voice carried the certainty of someone who’d never questioned their own righteousness. "It was us or them. We Moreaus protect each other."

He pulled into the circular drive in front of the main estate house and put the car in park. When he turned to look at me, his expression had softened fractionally.

"So clean your tears and focus on priming Bastien for marriage. Convince your husband too."

We both climbed out of the car. The night air felt colder now, biting through my dress in a way it hadn’t earlier. Lucian walked around to my side and paused just long enough to meet my eyes.

"Have a good night, sister."

He disappeared into the estate, heading toward the guest wing where he kept a room for when he stayed over. I stood alone in the drive for a moment longer, watching the space where he’d been.

The Omegas rushed to attend me when I entered. Their hands reached for my coat and my bag, their voices soft with concern and offers of tea or a hot bath.

"I can handle myself tonight."

They scattered immediately, retreating to whatever tasks occupied them when they weren’t caring for the family. I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and locked the door behind me with a click that echoed in the silence.

My room stretched before me. It was nice. Cream silk and expensive furniture that had been chosen by designers who’d never asked what I actually wanted. I walked past it all to the dresser in the corner and pulled open the bottom drawer.

The false cover came away easily. I’d installed it myself. It was one of the few things in this room that was truly mine. My fingers found the photograph tucked beneath it and pulled it into the light.

Two girls stared back at me from the faded image. Identical in every way that mattered. The same dark hair. The same sharp cheekbones. The same eyes that had learned too early how to hide what they were feeling.

I sank onto the edge of my bed and let the tears come freely now that no one was watching. They fell hot and fast, blurring the image in my hands until I could barely make out the faces anymore.

"I’m so sorry, Vivianne."

The words came out broken and useless. An apology to a ghost who couldn’t hear it. To a sister who’d died wearing my name while I’d taken hers and learned to live with it.

My fingers traced the outline of her face in the photograph. She’d been the stronger one. The braver one.

I pressed the photograph against my chest and curled around it, letting the sobs tear through me in waves that left me gasping. Tomorrow I would put my own mask back on. I would smile and play the perfect Luna and convince Bastien that marriage to some girl from Pack Texier was the right move for everyone involved.

But tonight I could grieve for the sister I’d lost and the daughter I’d sold and the boy I’d helped condemn to whatever hell Lucian had sent him to instead of saving him like I’d also begged.

Tonight, I could be honest about what we were. What I was.

A coward wearing a dead girl’s name and pretending it made me someone worth saving.