Claimed by the scarred Alpha

MARGAUX

Theodore’s grip held firm around Céline’s throat as she clawed uselessly at his fingers, fighting a fight she could not possibly win against a hand that should not have been solid in the first place.

"If you do this," I said quickly, "the blame falls on someone innocent. Maybe even me. They will say a Beaumont girl killed Alpha Dorian’s daughter."

"I can be seen now," he said, his attention still locked on his sister. "I can be felt. I do not need to hide behind anyone’s misfortune."

"You flickered in and out not long ago." I kept my voice steady despite the pressure still holding me in place. "And if she dies here, by your hand, I have to wonder if you ascend the same way your other self did. The version that made peace with Laurent."

That stopped him.

His grip loosened fractionally, his head tilting toward me though his hand stayed wrapped around Céline’s throat.

"I do not want that," he said.

He dropped her.

She hit the floor hard, immediately scrambling toward the door, her hands slapping against the wood as she screamed. "There is a ghost in here! A demon! Someone help me, please!"

The door did not budge. The sentinels outside continued throwing their weight against it with no success. Whatever that Theodore had done to it was going to hold.

"I still want her to suffer," Theodore said, turning back to me. "As much as I suffered. I do not believe I can leave this place until that happens."

I took a careful step closer to him.

"You can still have that," I said. "Without ending her."

"Would death not be the simplest path for someone like her?"

"Simple, yes." I held his gaze. "But she has made her obsession with power abundantly clear in this room already. Perhaps there is a better compromise available to both of us."

He waited, his form still flickering at the edges.

"What if your father knew what she actually is?" I said.

Céline went still against the door.

"What?" Her voice came out small.

Theodore’s expression shifted, something calculating moving behind his rage. "Perhaps you have a point."

"But the moment I agree to that," he continued, "and I ascend like last time, what stops her from controlling the narrative entirely? There are a thousand ways to spin a story once the only witness capable of contradicting it has vanished."

"I have a mate," I said, "who would lose his mind if anything happened to me. I am not going anywhere."

"Then you have a favor to fulfill," he said. "Tell my father his daughter was the reason I was driven to what I did. But make certain he understands he played his own part in it too. His delusional grief, adopting a replacement to atone for what he failed at the first time, none of that absolves him." His voice hardened. "I am dead. The goddess did not hand him a substitute son to balance the scales for the damage he caused both of us. He needs to face the darkness he created."

I nodded slowly, committing each word.

"And in case my father refuses to believe a woman’s word against his daughter," Theodore added, "tell him the reason his health has been deteriorating is because Céline has been poisoning him. Slowly. Deliberately. With hollowroot. Her long game to finally claim the Alpha seat for herself once he was gone."

"Hollowroot?" I repeated, the name catching in my throat.

It was the sort of herb every healer knew. In careful, measured doses, it dulled pain, eased agitation, and helped restless patients sleep through unbearable nights. Used responsibly, it was medicine.

Used over months...

It became something else entirely.

My stomach tightened as the pieces fell into place.

No one would suspect it.

Not when the symptoms crept in so slowly they could be mistaken for age.

Theodore watched realization spread across my face.

"You understand now."

I did.

At first, the Alpha would simply seem more tired than usual. Then the forgetfulness would begin. Small things. Misplacing important documents. Forgetting conversations he’d had the day before. Calling trusted pack members by the wrong names.

Everyone would chalk it up to stress.

To grief.

To the burden of leading a pack after losing a son.

"But she didn’t stop there," Theodore said quietly.

I swallowed.

With enough time, the confusion would worsen. His thoughts would wander mid-conversation. He would struggle to make decisions he once made effortlessly. Some days he would be himself. Other days he would forget where he was or why he’d summoned his council in the first place.

Eventually, people would whisper.

The Alpha was declining.

His mind wasn’t what it used to be.

Dementia.

The diagnosis would come so naturally that no one would think to question it.

No one would think to examine the medicine being handed to him every evening by the daughter he trusted more than anyone.

"The healers won’t find it," Theodore continued. "Not unless they specifically search for hollowroot accumulation. The doses are too small. She never gives enough to kill him outright."

"That is a lie!" Céline screamed, launching herself away from the door and straight toward me, her hands curled into claws, every ounce of composure she had carried since I met her completely abandoned.

Theodore moved faster.

A burst of raw energy slammed into her mid-stride, throwing her sideways into the wall hard enough that the impact knocked the air from her lungs. She slid down, gasping, blood trickling from somewhere along her hairline.

Theodore studied her for a moment, something satisfied settling into his expression.

"That is acceptable," he said, turning back to me.

"You will need protection, though," he continued, before I could respond. "Once she recovers from this, she will not forget what happened here, or who witnessed it." He drifted closer to me. "I will give you something for our deal. My sister will never be able to physically harm you. Not with her own hands at least. So you get to leave this room and sing like a Canary."

"No," I said immediately. "That is not what I asked for."

"Too late."

His form had already begun to fade, the electric blue dimming into something softer, more translucent, the same dissolution I had witnessed once before in an infirmary room with a different version of him.

"This is my parting gift," he said, his voice growing distant even as he spoke. "But before I go... I will let you know who the witch is. The witch is Séverine."

My breath caught entirely.

"What?" The word tore out of me, sharp and disbelieving.

He was already gone, the space where he had stood empty and silent, and the door behind Céline finally gave way under the sentinels’ combined force, splintering open as they poured into the room with weapons drawn and confusion written across every face at the sight of Céline crumpled against the wall and me standing frozen in the middle of it all.