Claimed by the scarred Alpha

MARGAUX

My father emerged from the crowd, his face set in the expressionless mask he wore during council meetings. Chris’s father materialized beside him, looking equally grim.

"Christopher." Beta Anthony’s voice carried across the space. "Step back."

Chris didn’t move. His chest heaved under my hands, his whole body vibrating with the need to do something.

His father crossed the remaining distance between them in three strides. The slap came without warning, loud enough that people flinched. Chris’s head snapped to the side. A red mark bloomed across his cheek.

"I said step back." Anthony’s voice shook with fury, but the truth was that behind it, there was clearly fear. "You will not start a war over your wounded pride."

Chris touched his face slowly, his fingers coming away from his cheek. He didn’t look at his father. He looked at me instead, and I saw everything he couldn’t say written in his expression. The helplessness. The rage at being forced to stand down when everything in him wanted to fight for me.

"My apologies, Alpha Théodore." Anthony turned to Théo and bowed his head in deference. "My son spoke out of turn. He’s young and doesn’t understand the complexities of pack politics."

"Clearly." Théo’s tone suggested he found the whole situation amusing rather than threatening.

My father moved to stand beside Anthony. He looked at Chris with an expression I couldn’t quite read, then turned to address Théo with a diplomatic tone.

"If you prefer to skip the reception, that’s certainly your prerogative." His voice carried the neutrality of someone who’d spent decades navigating difficult situations. "We’ll drink to Margaux’s happiness in her absence."

Then he looked at Chris, and something shifted in his face. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "I’ll remind you, Christopher, that Margaux is Valcourt property now. You have no say in her movements or decisions. If you can’t accept that reality, you’re welcome to leave."

Property... Oh.

The word hit me hard and left me reeling sideways mentally. I stared at my father, waiting for him to correct himself, to soften the statement somehow. He didn’t. He just looked at Chris with that same flat expression until the younger wolf finally dropped his gaze.

Théo’s hand found mine again. "It has been a great day, Father-in-law." His grip was possessive and deliberate. It was like he wanted to rub it even more in Chris’s face that he could do nothing despite the bravado and how big he talked. "We’ll be in touch about the territory agreements."

He pulled me toward the exit before anyone could respond. I looked back at Chris, who stood frozen between his father and mine. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He took half a step forward like his body wanted to follow even though his mind knew better.

Anthony’s hand shot out and gripped his shoulder, holding him in place.

"Chris." My voice came out broken.

I felt sorry for him. I knew all he wanted to do was help me.

He shook his head once. A sharp, frustrated movement that said everything he couldn’t voice out loud.

"Margaux!"

Shanelle broke through the crowd, running toward us with her dress hitched up around her knees. Théo didn’t slow down. He just kept dragging me toward the doors while my best friend chased after us.

We burst outside into cool night air. A black car sat waiting at the curb, engine already running. Théo pulled me toward it with single-minded determination.

"Wait." Shanelle caught up to us, breathless and wild-eyed. "Please. I just want to say goodbye properly."

Théo opened the car door. "No."

"Five minutes." Shanelle’s voice cracked. "Just five minutes. Please."

"You have a phone." Théo gestured toward the car. "Call her."

He practically shoved me into the backseat. I caught myself against the leather seats, my dress tangling around my legs. Théo slid in beside me and slammed the door shut, cutting off Shanelle’s protest mid-sentence.

"Drive," he said to the driver.

When the car lurched forward, I twisted around to look out the back window. Shanelle stood on the curb, one hand pressed against her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Behind her, the reception hall glowed with warm light and the silhouettes of people who were probably already gossiping about what had just happened.

The scene blurred as we picked up speed. I faced forward and blinked hard against the burning in my eyes. I would not cry in front of him. I would not give him that satisfaction.

"Did you hope your white knight was going to fix everything?" Théo’s voice cut through the silence. "Did I shatter a fantasy?"

I turned to look at him. The dragon mask reflected the streetlights as we passed under them, making him look even more inhuman. I hated that I couldn’t see his face. Hated that he got to hide behind carved scales while everything I felt was written across my expression for him to read.

"If I didn’t know better," I said carefully, "I would almost think you’re jealous."

He scoffed. The sound came out dismissive and cold. "You wish."

The car accelerated, carrying us further away from Beaumont territory and toward whatever waited for me in Valcourt. I pressed my face against the window and watched familiar streets give way to unfamiliar ones. The city lights thinned out. Buildings grew sparse.

Movement caught my eye as we turned a corner. A figure stood on the sidewalk, partially illuminated by a streetlamp. To my surprise, it was uncle Lucian.

What was he doing here?

He raised his hand in a small wave, his smile visible even from this distance. The gesture felt almost comforting, like he was trying to reassure me that everything would be okay.

Then rage exploded through the bond.

The emotion slammed into me with such violent intensity that I gasped. It wasn’t mine. It couldn’t be mine. This was fury so absolute and consuming that it felt like it could burn straight through flesh and bone.

I whipped around to face Théo. "You lied."

He went very still.

"You did feel it." My heart hammered against my ribs. "The mate bond. You felt it this whole time."