Chapter 19: The Bait 1
MARGAUX
I half expected him to lie. To play in my face like he’d been doing since this nightmare started. Instead, he shifted in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him, and his voice came out low and measured.
"If I say yes, what then?"
The question stopped me cold. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. He was right. What would change? The contract was signed. The vows were spoken. I was sitting in his car, being carried away from everything I’d ever known, and the mate bond humming between us didn’t alter a single detail of that reality.
I looked away from him, my gaze finding the window. The streets blurred past in streaks of light and shadow. We were moving fast now, leaving the city behind. The buildings thinned. Trees appeared in clusters that grew denser the further we went.
Then I saw it. The arc.
It rose from the ground like a massive, sleek, modern metal gateway, with the Valcourt crest carved into its surface. The structure pulsed with a faint blue light that traveled along its edges in rhythmic waves. Each pack had its own arcs scattered at strategic points outside its territory. Quick transportation for those who held the blood right to use them. A Valcourt arc could sit five feet from Beaumont land, but no Beaumont wolf could activate it. The magic recognized bloodlines. It kept invasions from happening in seconds.
The sight should have frightened me. Instead, something else pushed to the surface. A memory. A nickname that had slipped from his lips earlier, so quiet I’d almost convinced myself I’d imagined it.
I turned back to him, my pulse hammering in my throat. "You lied about the second part, too."
His head tilted slightly. "What part?"
"You called me Margotine." The words came out steadier than I felt. "Only one person has ever called me that."
The silence stretched between us, thick with something I couldn’t name. My hands moved without permission, reaching for the mask. I wanted to tear it off his face. I needed to see what was underneath, because everything was pointing toward one impossible conclusion.
"The mask," I said. "Take it off."
He turned away, his profile sharp against the window. "Nobody asks that of me. Not even my own wolves."
"I’m not just any wolf." My voice rose despite my efforts to keep it level. "I’m your wife."
He laughed. The sound came out dark and hollow, scraping against the inside of the car. When he looked back at me, his eyes caught the faint light from outside, and they glittered with something cruel.
"What you see might repulse you, Luna Margaux." He let the words hang there, deliberate and weighted. "Are you up for that challenge?"
He held my gaze, and time seemed to slow. Those eyes. I’d been seeing them all day, trying to convince myself they were just familiar in the way all wolves’ eyes could be familiar. But this close, with the bond he was still trying so hard to lock down singing between us and no distractions to pull my focus away, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
Tears pricked behind my lashes, hot and unwelcome. My throat closed around the question I was terrified to ask.
"It’s you, isn’t it?"
"Who?" His voice gave nothing away.
I didn’t think. My body moved on instinct, launching itself across the space between us. My arms wrapped around him before rational thought could stop me, and I pressed my face against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath expensive fabric.
"Thank the Goddess you survived." The words tumbled out broken and relieved. "I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re alive."
The bond flared hot and bright, flooding the space between us with sensation so intense it stole my breath. His walls shattered like glass, and I felt everything. Confusion hit me first, sharp and disorienting, like he couldn’t process what was happening. Then it morphed, twisting into rage so potent it burned.
Disgust followed. Cold and absolute.
He shoved me away with enough force that I slammed back against my seat. The breath knocked out of my lungs. I stared at him, stunned.
"I don’t know what the fuck this is about." His voice came out deadly quiet. "But it’s in your best interest that you stop it. Whatever game Beaumont told you to play to soften my heart, it won’t work."
"I’m not playing a game." My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. "I know it’s you. It doesn’t make sense, but it is, isn’t it?"
I forced myself to say the name out loud, the one I’d buried under years of guilt and grief.
"Étienne?"
The silence that followed felt alive. Dangerous. We stared at each other, and I watched his jaw tighten beneath the mask. His hands curled into fists against his thighs. The bond thrummed between us, wild and unstable, carrying emotions he couldn’t hide anymore now that his shields had crumbled.
The car rocked violently.
I broke eye contact, my head snapping forward. My hands shot out to brace against the seat in front of me as we lurched to a stop. Through the windshield, I saw them.
Gates.
Massive wrought iron structures that stretched toward the sky, easily twice the height of the car. The Valcourt crest dominated the center, rendered in gleaming metal that caught the moonlight. Two wolves in profile, their heads thrown back in silent howls, surrounded by intricate scrollwork that probably meant something significant to anyone who’d grown up in this pack.
We’d arrived.
The gates swung open with a mechanical hum, smooth and well-maintained. The car rolled forward slowly, passing beneath the archway. I caught glimpses of manicured grounds on either side. Perfectly trimmed hedges. Stone pathways that wound through gardens I couldn’t fully see in the darkness. Lights flickered in the distance, revealing what had to be the main house.
Estate didn’t feel like the right word for what I was seeing. It looked more like a compound. Multiple buildings sprawled across the property, connected by covered walkways. The architecture was old, the kind of construction that spoke of generations living in the same place, adding wings and renovations as family lines expanded.
The main building rose three stories high, its facade covered in ivy that had been carefully trained to grow in deliberate patterns. Windows glowed with warm light from within. I counted at least twenty on the front face alone. Columns flanked the main entrance, supporting a balcony on the second floor.
The car pulled to a stop in front of a circular driveway. A fountain sat in the center, water cascading down tiers of carved stone. The Valcourt crest appeared again here, etched into the fountain’s base.
I turned back to look at him. He hadn’t moved. He sat perfectly still, his masked face turned toward the window, refusing to acknowledge what I’d said. Refusing to confirm or deny the name I’d thrown at him.
But I’d felt the truth in the bond before his walls slammed back into place. The confusion hadn’t been about whether I was right. It had been about how I’d figured it out.
The driver opened his door, the sound breaking the tension inside the car. Cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of unfamiliar territory.
Étienne stepped out first. He stood beside the car for a moment, his masked face turned toward the driveway behind us.
A rumble of engines reached my ears—more cars were arriving at the estate. As their headlights swept across the fountain, shadows danced over the courtyard.
He looked back at me through the open door. I stayed frozen in my seat, my hands gripping the edges so tightly my knuckles ached, breath caught in my throat, as if my body had forgotten how to function.
"Get out."
The command wasn’t loud, but it carried weight. I forced my legs to move and gathered the ridiculous red dress so I wouldn’t trip. My shoes hit the gravel; small stones crunched beneath expensive heels. The night air wrapped around me, cooler than in Beaumont, carrying unfamiliar scents.
The cars behind us rolled to a stop. Doors swung open. Voices and laughter carried over to me—the kind of easy conversation shared between people who belonged together.
Céline emerged from the first car; her dress was somehow still perfect despite the journey. The girl who’d pulled Étienne away earlier stepped out beside her. She was beautiful in a way that made other women notice. Dark hair fell in perfect waves. Her gown showed off her figure without being obvious. She moved with confidence, as if she knew her place in the world.
I watched Étienne turn toward her, and something in my chest twisted painfully—sharp and sudden, like jealousy and confusion warring inside me.
He walked to her without hesitation, his attention focused entirely on her face. "I hope the wedding wasn’t a bother."
She smiled up at him—not a polite or formal smile, but one that was warm, familiar. The kind of smile you give someone you’ve known forever—and plan to keep knowing.
"You know I’d do anything for you."
Then she kissed him.
Not a peck. Not some chaste display made for public viewing. She kissed him like she had every right to, as though she’d done it a thousand times before and would do it a thousand more. Her hands came to rest against his chest, fingers curling into his suit jacket, while his hand, steady and sure, settled at her waist.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My eyes stung, and my heart hammered, shock flooding me as my brain desperately tried to process what I was seeing, but the pieces wouldn’t fit together in any way that made sense.
He’d just married me. Hours ago. I still wore the dress. Humiliating as it was. The bond between us was still raw and new, humming beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. And he was kissing someone else, like I didn’t exist.
The bond flared hot with something that might have been satisfaction. His satisfaction, I realized—a dark thrill that almost made me recoil. It burned through me, twisting the knife deeper.
He wanted me to see this.
Céline’s laugh cut through my spiraling thoughts. She looked at me, still standing frozen beside the car like an idiot, and her grin widened.
"Guys, you need to stop." She stepped forward and jabbed Étienne in the ribs with her elbow. Hard enough that he shifted away from the kiss, though his hand stayed at the other girl’s waist. "Your new bride looks confused."
Confused didn’t begin to cover it. My breath caught, heart hammering as if someone had reached into my chest and rearranged everything without warning. The mate bond pulled tight—uncomfortable—stretching between us as he touched another woman. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, heat stinging my eyes while jealousy twisted sharply inside me.
"Does she?" Étienne’s voice carried across the space between us, cold and detached. He didn’t look at me when he spoke. "How unfortunate."