Claimed by the scarred Alpha

ÉTIENNE

It would make Laurent’s suspicions solidify into certainty. It could even make Margaux believe I still held her dear to my heart somewhere.

I released the healer’s throat. He dropped back to his full height, gasping and coughing.

"Get lost." The command came out cold and absolute. "I want to talk to her alone."

He fled without another word. His footsteps echoed down the hallway at a near run.

I turned to face Margaux. She stood beside the bed in a hospital gown that hung loose on her frame. Her hair was still damp from the bathtub. Dark circles shadowed her eyes like bruises.

The clinical lighting made her skin look pale, almost translucent. It also highlighted the delicate structure of her features in a way the dim bedroom lighting hadn’t.

Pretty... The thought formed before I could stop it. She looked pretty standing there with righteous anger still burning in her eyes.

I shook my head and shoved the observation down in hell where it belonged.

My shields went up immediately and in full strength this time. I couldn’t afford to let her feel what I was thinking. I couldn’t risk this sick bond betraying me.

She scoffed. The sound carried contempt and something that might have been hurt.

"What do you want now?" Her arms crossed over her chest. "To tell me that you hate that the monster that tried to take me out did not succeed?"

"That would be my job." I gripped the manila folder tighter. The edges bit into my palm. "Not theirs. So no. I am not remotely elated about what happened."

The admission cost me more than it should have. I pushed forward before she could respond.

"And I do not want to fight right now."

"Right." Her laugh came out bitter. "But you are fine with injustice."

She took a step closer. The movement made the hospital gown shift, revealing the pale column of her throat where bruises should have been if someone had held her under physically.

"Do you know what he called me?"

"Only hit dogs holler." I met her gaze without flinching. "Are you dirty blooded?"

Her face went white, then red. Emotions I couldn’t name flickered across her features too fast to track.

"I might not be." Her voice shook with barely controlled rage. "But I will not stand for slurs being used. You letting him get away without so much as a slap on the wrist sickens me."

She paused and then drew in a breath that made her shoulders rise and fall.

"But why should I be surprised. Injustice and cruelty might just be the Valcourt’s motto."

The words hit exactly where she’d aimed them. I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. It was dark and humorless.

"Like you have never sided with injustice."

She swallowed. The movement traveled down her throat visibly. Her arms uncrossed and fell to her sides, hands curling into fists against the thin fabric of the gown.

I needed to move this conversation forward. Away from territory that would lead us both somewhere neither of us wanted to go.

"On to other things." I adjusted my grip on the folder. "Did you see who tried to kill you?"

"No." The answer came immediately. Certain despite the way her hands trembled. "I might sound psychotic to you like everyone else here seemed to believe I would if I told the truth. But I am fine with that. Whatever attacked me, it did not have a physical body."

She looked at me, making direct eye contact that didn’t waver even though I could feel the uncertainty bleeding through the edges of my shields.

"I could not see or touch a hand. But the weight was there. It felt like..."

She trailed off. Searching for words that would make sense of the impossible.

"Magic?"

The question hung between us. In the clinical light, details I’d missed before became obvious. The way her collarbones stood out too sharply. The hollow at the base of her throat. The delicate bone structure that suddenly seemed fragile rather than merely pretty.

I shook my head again and cleared the observation before it could settle.

"That is the only explanation right?" Her voice carried a desperate edge. A need to be believed that made my chest tighten. "I know it does not make sense."

"Well..." I shifted my weight. The folder felt heavier than it should. "I do believe someone did do something."

Her eyes widened fractionally. Surprise flickered across her face before she could hide it.

"And I promise I will find who it is." The words came easier than expected. Almost natural. "But I do not believe it is magic... I am not so sure about that."

The admission felt wrong even as I spoke it. Magic was rare. Almost extinct in our world. The witches who’d once wielded it had been hunted to near extinction generations ago and for good reason too.

But the camera moving on its own... The complete absence of physical evidence... The way she’d nearly died without a single mark on her body...

What else could explain it?

"Aside that though..." I straightened, putting distance between us by taking a step back. "I want to talk to you."

I turned to where Laurent still stood in the doorway. He’d been silent through the entire exchange. Watching with those eyes that saw too much.

"Give us some privacy."

He nodded once and with no argument or his usual commentary, he pulled the door closed behind him as he left.

The click of the latch echoed in the suddenly quiet room.

Margaux and I stood on opposite sides of her hospital bed. The distance felt simultaneously too much and not enough. The bond hummed beneath my shields, carrying fragments of emotion I tried not to identify or pay mind to.

I looked down at the manila folder in my hands. At the medical assessment, there were secrets her family had probably even killed to keep hidden.

The conversation we were about to have would change things. I could feel it already. The weight of words not yet spoken pressing against my chest.

I just wasn’t sure if the change would bring me closer to the revenge I’d planned for years or drag me somewhere I’d sworn never to go again.

"Did the head healer give any reason as to why he said those words to you? Why he called you what you believe he called you?"