Claimed by the scarred Alpha

MARGAUX

I reached out to Chris through the bars. My fingers found his and held tightly. The platinum touched my skin with a burning sensation, but I didn’t pull away.

I couldn’t, especially when he looked at me as if I might vanish if he blinked. His hands trembled in mine, or maybe mine trembled in his—it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins when desperation bridges the gap between us.

Then I noticed it: a faint purple thread wrapped around his finger, visible in the dim dungeon light. The color made me think of bruises—something damaged but not quite broken. I blinked and looked at my own hand—there was a purple thread circling my finger in the same shade, with a translucent quality that suggested it was between solid and spirit, connected to his hand. What could that mean?

His hands trembled in mine. Or maybe mine trembled in his. It was hard to tell where one person ended, and the other began, when desperation closed the distance between us.

Then I saw it.

A purple thread wrapped around his finger. Faint but visible in the dim dungeon light. The color reminded me of bruises. Of things damaged but not quite broken.

I blinked and looked down at my own hand. Another purple thread circled my finger. The same shade. The same translucent quality that suggested it existed somewhere between solid and spirit. It was connected to his hand.

What did that mean?

The question sat on my tongue, but I swallowed it down. Too many impossible things had happened today. One more mystery felt like it would tip me over an edge I couldn’t see.

"I’ll get you out." I squeezed Chris’s hands through the bars. "I promise. And please try not to say anything that might anger him or make him pursue repercussions."

He nodded. His jaw worked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he just pressed his forehead against the platinum. The metal had to burn, but he didn’t flinch.

"Be careful." His voice came out rough. "Whatever game he’s playing, don’t trust him."

I pulled back slowly. My hands slipped from his. The loss of contact felt wrong, but I turned toward where Étienne stood several feet away. His back was to us. His shoulders held rigid in ways that suggested he’d heard every word.

"Wait."

The demand escaped before I could think better of it. My feet carried me forward. Each step sent dull aches through my body, but I ignored them. Étienne kept walking. His limp was more pronounced now. The injury he’d been hiding was suddenly visible in the uneven rhythm of his gait.

"Fuck, can you wait?"

Dizziness then slammed into me without warning. The corridor tilted sideways. My vision blurred at the edges. I reached for the wall, but my legs gave out before my hand found stone.

I collapsed against the cold surface. My shoulder hit first. Pain radiated down my arm, but it felt distant. Unimportant compared to the way the world spun around me.

Footsteps rushed back. Fast despite the limp. I heard him before I saw him. Before his hands found my shoulders and steadied me against the wall.

"Are you fine?"

The question came urgent and almost panicked.

I forced my eyes to focus on his face. The stag mask stared back at me, but I could see his eyes through the carved openings. See the concern bleeding through whatever composure he usually maintained.

My gaze dropped lower. First, to where a red thread was now wrapped around his finger. Bright crimson that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. I followed the thread with my eyes. It extended from his hand to mine and connected us in ways that shouldn’t be possible.

What the fuck was happening?

I shook it off my mind and trained my sight to look away from it. I needed something else to focus on.

Then I noticed his leg.

The ankle appeared slightly bent at an awkward angle beneath his trousers. I noticed the swelling and the foul odor, even through the fabric. He had rushed to me despite experiencing obvious agony.

Laurent’s words echoed in my mind. About how Étienne threw himself through a third-story window for me. About how he fell without hesitation the moment he sensed I was in danger.

"Your leg..."

The words came out soft. I looked back up at his masked face and tried to reconcile what I was seeing with what I thought I knew about this man who claimed to hate me.

His eyes met mine. The mask couldn’t hide the way they’d gone wide. Vulnerable in ways I’d never seen before.

"Are you fine?"

My wolf stirred. She’d been quiet since the attack. Exhausted from blood loss and trauma. But now she lifted her head with interest. With something that felt dangerously close to hope.

That question hadn’t come from Theodore Valcourt. It hadn’t come from the false Alpha wearing revenge like armor. It had come from somewhere deeper. Somewhere honest.

His shield had dropped and I could see he meant it. He was deadly worried about me.

"Are you fine?"

I asked back gently. I made sure to be careful. Because with him, it was like the wrong tone might make him remember to put his walls back up.

His expression shifted. Something passed across his features too quickly to name before his jaw tightened. He straightened away from me. The movement made him wince. Pain flickered through his eyes, but he tried to hide it behind cold indifference.

"I am."

The lie was obvious. I pushed off the wall. My legs felt steadier now. The dizziness had passed as quickly as it had come.

"That is clearly not true."

I moved closer and dropped to one knee before he could protest. My hands found his injured leg. He tensed immediately, but I held on.

I rolled up his pants a bit and looked.

The swelling was worse up close. Heat radiated from the injury even at a distance between us. I pressed carefully around the ankle. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"Well, this is bad." I looked up at him. "And it does not help that you keep moving and giving your healing factor a hard time."

The mask stared back at me. Expressionless and unchanging. But his eyes told a different story. They’d gone wary. Guarded in ways that suggested he didn’t know how to process this concern I had directed his way.

"You should not forget that your healing factor will be slower than mine." I stood but kept my hand on his leg. "We should go to the healer."

"I am not a child."

The protest came sharp and defensive as he pulled back from my touch.

"Since when did you care about me?" His voice dropped lower and more dangerous. "Are you not going to advocate for your man in the cage?"

The accusation stung. Heat crawled up my throat.

"He is my friend." I kept my voice steady despite the frustration building in my chest. "And yes, I will advocate for him."

"He certainly does not think so."

Étienne’s tone carried something I couldn’t quite identify. Not quite anger. Not quite hurt. Something closer to bitter amusement.

"Some people are just friends, Etienne." I met his gaze through the mask. "And they happen to be fine with it."

"I think you will always be naive."

The statement landed with finality. Like he’d made up his mind about me and nothing I said would change it. He turned away again. His limp was worse now. Each step looked painful in ways that made my chest tighten.

"Do you know what is up Laurent’s ass?"

The question caught me off guard. I blinked at his back and the rigid line of his shoulders.

An opportunity had presented itself. Clear as day, and it was left to me whether I took it or not.

"Yes."

He paused his walk, turning his head slightly; not enough to face me directly, but enough to show he was listening. "Well?" he prompted, impatience evident in his tone. "What is it?" "Since you enjoy making deals and don’t fully trust me," I carefully chose my words, "I want to make one too."

"Unbelievable," he muttered and began limping away again.

His dismissive posture made something inside me crack.

I leaned one hand against the wall for support, feeling the pain of rejection more than it probably should have.

He halted.

The silence between us stretched for several heartbeats before he finally turned back to face me. "Well?" His voice was softer now, less sharp. "Are you coming?"