Claimed by the scarred Alpha

CÉLINE

Laurent tried to pull away. His arm twisted in my grip with enough force that I should have lost my hold. But I’d spent years learning how to make my body an anchor when necessary. How to use leverage and positioning instead of raw strength.

I tightened my fingers around his forearm and held on.

He stopped struggling. His eyes found mine with confusion that looked genuine enough to almost be convincing.

"Can you drop it now?"

The question came out sharper than I’d intended. Years of watching him perform this particular charade had worn my patience down to nothing.

"Drop what?"

His face arranged itself into innocence. Like he truly didn’t understand what I was asking. Like the past several years had been erased from his memory, and he could play dumb without consequence.

"Following that fraud posing as my brother, like he is the real thing."

The words hung between us. Heavy and unavoidable. Laurent’s expression flickered. Something passed across his features too quickly for me to identify before the mask of confusion settled back into place.

"My father is sick." I kept my voice level despite the anger simmering beneath my ribs. "And even he is not as deluded as you are."

That landed. I saw it in the way Laurent’s jaw tightened. In the way his eyes went hard for just a moment before he remembered to keep performing his role.

"Sometimes even my father recognizes that is not his Theodore."

I turned back toward him fully and let him see the cruelty in my smile. It made him understand exactly how tired I was of watching him pretend.

"You know that too, right?" I tilted my head slightly. "Or has that shattered mate bond fucked up your head worse than my father’s dementia?"

Laurent flinched. The movement was small and barely visible. But I’d been watching him long enough to catch every tell. Every micro-expression betrayed what he was really feeling beneath the careful performance.

"I am not deluded."

His voice came out quieter than before. Defensive in a way that told me I’d hit exactly where I’d been aiming.

"I just do not want anyone to suffer anymore." He pulled his arm again, gentler this time. It was almost as if he’d given up on actually escaping and was just going through the motions. "What Étienne needs is healing. And I have a feeling the goddess returned the mate bond between him and that girl because something divine is meant to happen."

A laugh bubbled up from my chest. It came out harsh and bitter. The kind of sound that would have made my mother wince if she’d still been alive to hear it.

"You think so? Because I beg to differ. After all, there was nothing divine about the bond you and my brother shared."

The statement landed like a blow. Laurent went still in my grip. His breathing changed, becoming shallower and faster, like I’d knocked the air from his lungs.

"It cost Theodore his life. Remember?"

I watched the words sink in. I watched as Laurent’s face went pale. The way his eyes widened just slightly before he could control the reaction.

"You playing matchmaker and savior for those two will not erase what you did."

Laurent stiffened. His entire body went rigid under my hand. When he spoke, his voice came out strained.

"I did not kill Theodore."

"Oh... But you did." I kept my tone conversational. Matter-of-fact. Like we were discussing the weather instead of my brother’s death. "Both you and my father."

Laurent shook his head. The movement was jerky and borderline desperate. "That is not—"

"My brother was stupidly in love." I cut through whatever defense he’d been about to offer. "He loved both you and Father. And he could not bear to disappoint either of you two."

The truth of it sat between us. Undeniable because we’d both lived through it. We’d both watched Theodore tear himself apart trying to be everything to everyone. Trying to reconcile impossible expectations with his own heart.

"So he made the choice that would disappoint neither."

Laurent’s breath caught. His eyes went glassy with tears he wouldn’t let fall. Good. I needed him hurt. It felt good to double that pain and give it to another. Father’s words still hurt me, so it was okay that I handed that pain over to the progenitor of it. He had to feel a fraction of what I was currently feeling.

"That was all Alpha Dorian." The protest came out weak. Unconvincing even to Laurent himself if his expression was any indication.

"I remember begging you to reject him." I retorted.

Only then did my grip on his arm loosen slightly. Not enough to let him escape, but enough to make the hold feel less aggressive and more intimate in a way that would make this harder for him to dismiss.

"If you had been the one to reject him, he would still be with us today."

Laurent gasped. The sound punched out of him as if I’d physically struck him. His knees seemed to weaken. He swayed slightly before catching himself.

Perfect.

I released his arm and moved around behind him. My footsteps were quiet against the study floor. The broken glass crunched under my shoes. A reminder of what desperation looked like when it overrode self-preservation.

"I have a feeling."

I stopped when I stood directly behind him. Close enough that my breath would have brushed against the back of his neck if I’d spoken any louder.

"Those two becoming a pet project for you is more about convincing yourself that the mate bond can work in any and every situation and will not result in personal tragedy."

Laurent’s shoulders tensed. His head started to turn like he wanted to look at me. But he stopped himself halfway through the movement.

"We can make a bet, though."

I let the suggestion hang there for a moment. Let him wonder where I was going with this.

"The history book will repeat itself. A match of fate will not save both of them."

My hand came to rest on his shoulder. Light enough that it could have been mistaken for comfort if you didn’t know better. If you couldn’t feel the threat woven through the gesture.

"This will only end in tragedy. Just like you and my brother’s ill-fated love story."

Laurent’s breathing had gone ragged. Each inhale sounded like it hurt. Like the air itself was cutting him on the way down.