Claimed by the scarred Alpha

VIVIANNE

The Valcourt wolves filed out like shadows retreating at dawn, their departure slow and deliberate enough to feel like they were savoring our discomfort. I stood near the entrance of the hall and watched them leave one by one. They didn’t bother hiding their satisfaction. Some smiled. Others exchanged knowing glances that said they understood exactly what they’d witnessed tonight—Beaumont on its knees, dressed up in ceremony and pretense, but on its knees all the same.

Armand walked past me without a word. His hand didn’t reach for mine like it might have during a normal event. He didn’t pause to ask if I needed anything or if I planned to follow soon. He just kept moving toward the exit with his shoulders set and his jaw tight, and when he reached the doorway he turned back long enough to announce to no one in particular that he was retiring for the night.

The statement landed with the weight of a gavel. There would be no after party. No pretense of celebration. No toasts to my daughter’s future or polite conversations about how lovely the ceremony had been despite everything.

People understood immediately. The Beaumont guests who’d stayed began gathering their things, murmuring polite goodbyes while avoiding eye contact. Within minutes the hall had transformed from a wedding reception into an empty space filled with abandoned decorations and the lingering scent of flowers nobody had bothered to admire.

I remained where I was and let them flow around me like water around stone.

The slap echoed across the nearly empty hall.

My head whipped toward the sound. Beta Anthony stood with his hand still raised, his face twisted into something between fury and desperation. Chris stumbled back a step, one hand flying to his reddened cheek while shock registered across his features.

"I gave you one job." Anthony’s voice shook with barely contained rage. "One simple job to prove yourself worthy of the position you would one day inherit from me, and you couldn’t even manage that. Instead you came here to antagonize a fucking monster we’re trying so hard to pacify."

Chris straightened slowly. His hand dropped from his face, revealing the angry red mark that had already begun to bloom across his skin. "When did the Beaumont pack get so weak?"

The second slap came harder than the first. Chris’s head snapped to the side and he staggered, catching himself against a nearby table.

I moved without thinking. My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as I closed the distance between them, inserting myself into the space before Anthony could raise his hand again.

"That’s enough." My voice came out cold and final.

Anthony’s arm lowered immediately. He stepped back and bowed his head in a gesture that might have looked respectful if his hands weren’t still trembling with fury. "My apologies, Luna. I just needed to knock some sense into the boy’s head."

"He was trying to defend the honor of his friend." The words came out sharper than I’d intended. "And this pack."

I turned to face Chris, studying the twin marks on his face and the way his jaw worked beneath them. He looked so much like his father when he was angry. You could tell from the sharp lines and barely contained violence.

"I understand why you reacted the way you did." I kept my voice gentle despite the exhaustion pulling at me. "But we don’t have power over some things in this life."

Chris’s eyes met mine, and I saw everything he couldn’t say written in them. The helplessness. The rage at being forced to stand down when everything in him wanted to fight.

"Nobody really wants this," I continued. "But Margaux made this choice, and we have to stand by her."

Anthony moved closer, his expression shifting into something that looked almost apologetic. "We both know it’s his uncanny obsession with your daughter that’s making him act this way."

Chris’s head whipped toward his father so fast I thought he might lunge. The glare he fixed on the older wolf could have melted steel.

"I’m not so sure everyone in this pack wasn’t more than willing to make the trade with her." Chris’s voice came out low and dangerous. "I saw her face. She was terrified. Goddess knows what she is facing now."

He turned on his heel and started toward the exit. His movements were sharp like the soldier at heart that he was.

"This isn’t over yet." He said.

"Christopher!" Anthony’s voice cracked like a whip through the hall. "You don’t walk away from your Luna without being dismissed!"

Chris paused but didn’t turn around. His shoulders rose and fell with a breath he was clearly trying to control before he looked back at me.

"I hold no grudges," I said quietly.

He nodded once and disappeared through the doors.

Anthony scrambled after him, already shouting something I couldn’t quite hear over the blood rushing in my ears. I stood alone in the empty hall and let the silence press down on me like the physical weight it now felt like.

My eyes scanned the remaining guests automatically, searching for a familiar face. Lucian should have been here. He always positioned himself near the exits during pack functions, ready to smooth over any difficulties that arose, intercept anyone who might cause problems or even further push himself in matters that did not concern him. My brother was fixated with power.

But the space where he usually stood was empty.

Chris’s words echoed in my head. I saw her face. She was terrified. The memory of Margaux standing in that restroom just a few hours ago surfaced unbidden. Her questions about Étienne. The guilt that had been eating at her for years over a boy she’d been ordered by me to reject.

A boy I’d promised would be helped.

A boy Lucian had assured her and even me that he was going to save.

The weight in my chest grew heavier.

I gathered my dress and walked toward the exit, my movements mechanical and disconnected. The Omegas who’d been hovering near the edges rushed forward to help, but I waved them off with a gesture that probably looked ruder than I’d intended.

The cool night air hit me when I stepped outside. I breathed it in deeply, trying to clear my head of the images that wouldn’t stop playing. Margaux in that red dress. The way Théo Valcourt had gripped her wrist hard enough to bruise. The kiss that had looked more like a claiming than a celebration.

A familiar scent caught my attention. Cigarette smoke, expensive and French, the kind Lucian preferred when he thought no one was watching.

He stood near the edge of the courtyard with one shoulder propped against a pillar, the cigarette dangling from his fingers in a way that managed to look both elegant and careless.

"I thought you quit."

He turned his head toward me, his smile lazy and unbothered. "Tonight’s a fucked up night. I needed one."

I walked closer and stood beside him, close enough that I could smell the tobacco mixed with his cologne. We didn’t speak for a moment. I simply stood there while the sounds of departing cars and murmured conversations drifted over from the parking area.

"No after party?" he said finally.

"Well, it’s not really a party." My voice came out flat. "Never was."

Lucian took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly. The smoke curled upward into the darkness, disappearing into nothing. "This has really dwindled Beaumont in the eyes of many. I don’t like it."

He gestured vaguely toward the parking area where several cars still sat, their occupants probably gossiping about what they’d witnessed. "With the other packs coming to watch our humiliation too."

I didn’t respond. He was right, and we both knew it. The packs whose necks we’d been stepping on for years would gain some backbone now that Beaumont’s standing had been shaken. The Valcourt Alpha had made sure of that with his public display, making it seem like humiliating us had been his goal all along with the marriage.

But I was a woman. What did I know?