Chapter 20: The Bait 2
MARGAUX
I swallowed hard, a rough tremor rattling through me, then let out a scoff that cracked like glass, raw and too close to hysteria. "What the fuck is happening?"
The second girl turned toward me, and her expression shifted into something that might have been apologetic if I were stupid enough to believe it. "My apologies. That was rude, sister wife."
Sister wife. Sister wife?
The words landed like a slap—jarring, cold, and humiliating.
She raised her hand to fix her hair. The movement was deliberate and graceful. That was when I saw it: the ring on her finger caught the light from the estate’s windows, throwing sparkles across the gravel. A pink diamond. Massive. Set in what looked like platinum or white gold.
"My name is Séverine." Her voice carried the polish of someone who’d grown up in high society, every syllable perfectly enunciated. "Luna Séverine d’Armont-Montclair. We met once. At your debutante."
I searched my memory frantically, heart pounding as I tried to place her face among the dozens who’d attended that nightmare of an evening. Nothing came. She must have been one of those girls who stood in the back, watching with half-interested eyes while I’d danced with the boys my mother had preselected.
"But I’m Théo’s fiancée," she continued, and her smile widened slightly.
I looked between all three of them. Céline stood off to the side, clearly trying not to laugh. Théo remained perfectly still, his masked face unreadable. Séverine looked at me with something that might have been pity if it wasn’t so obviously fake.
"I’m the love of his life," Séverine added, and there was pride in her voice. The kind of certainty that came from knowing exactly where you stood in someone’s world.
"But he married me." The words came out louder than I’d intended. I turned to face Séverine fully, my hands clenching in my dress. "Surely you wouldn’t have let that happen."
"I did." She said it simply, like we were discussing the weather. "An Alpha is allowed to have multiple wives. I know he doesn’t love you, so I have no issue with it."
The casual dismissal sliced through me, sharp and corrosive. She stood there swathed in perfection—her dress, her ring, her composure—making my own worth feel as insubstantial as smoke.
"His reason for marrying you is well..." She paused, considering her words. "Nefarious as they come."
Céline stepped forward before I could respond, her expression shifting into something more businesslike. "I’ll leave the polycule dilemma to you guys." She then turned toward her supposed brother, her tone becoming gentler. "I’ll check on Father since he came earlier than we did because of his health."
Théo nodded once. Céline walked past us toward the main house, her footsteps crunching against the gravel until they faded into silence.
Séverine moved closer to me, and I fought the urge to step back. She looked me up and down. Her gaze lingered on the red dress that suddenly felt too tight and too obvious.
"I love your dress." Her voice dripped with false sweetness. "It would have been so pretty in white, I’m sure."
It made me want to claw the dress off, shred it, burn all the fabric until nothing remained but ash and my own shame.
"Perhaps when I am to get married," she continued, "we can go to fittings together. Like sisters."
Fury rose in my throat, hot and choking. This girl stood here talking about her wedding to my husband, like I was supposed to smile and help her pick out centerpieces. Like I was supposed to be grateful for scraps of his attention while she got everything that mattered.
Séverine gave a delicate yawn, covering her mouth with one hand. The ring glittered again, deliberate and mocking. "I’m so tired. I’ll retire for the night."
She walked back to Étienne, moving with the kind of confidence that said she’d done this a thousand times before. Her hand touched his arm, familiar and possessive. She rose on her toes and placed a kiss on the cheek of his mask. Her lips lingered just long enough to make her point.
"Be kind to her," she said softly, though her voice carried perfectly in the quiet night. "It is her wedding night."
Then she left, her smile sharp and satisfied as she brushed past me. Her shoulder knocked against mine, hard enough to feel intentional but light enough to pretend it was an accident.
I watched her disappear into the house, my chest heaving with the effort of keeping myself together. The bond thrummed between Étienne and me. It carried emotions I couldn’t decipher through the walls he’d rebuilt.
When I finally looked at him, both girls were gone. We stood alone in the courtyard, the fountain’s water providing the only sound besides my ragged breathing.
"Please drive me back home or find someone to do it."
The words slipped out softer than I’d meant—thin, shaking, almost broken. I despised how they sounded: pleading, desperate, stripped of every ounce of pride I’d clung to.
"Feeling a bit rash, aren’t we?" His voice carried amusement, as if this were all very entertaining.
Something inside me snapped. "I was willing to be humiliated. I expected it, honestly. But there’s a limit to the disrespect I’m willing to tolerate, and you’ve pushed me past it."
He walked toward me, each step measured and deliberate. I tried to stand my ground, tried to keep my spine straight and my chin up. But my body betrayed me. I took one step back, then another, until I’d retreated several feet.
He stopped just close enough that I had to tilt my head back to see his masked face. "But that’s what I want."
His hand reached out, fingers tangling in my hair. Not rough, but not gentle either. The touch sent shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with the bond screaming between us.
"For you to give up quickly," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "For those fools that truly make your pack to know. The Beaumont ruling wolves would sell them out to keep their pride."
He twisted a strand of my hair around his finger. The gesture was almost tender, if you ignored the venom in his words. "Is that not why you rejected me then? You couldn’t be mated to a traitor’s son?"