Claimed by the scarred Alpha

ÉTIENNE

The words struck me harder than I expected.

I blinked.

Séverine stared at me as though I had just spoken in a language she no longer understood.

"You hate her," she repeated, slower this time. "Or have you forgotten that?"

"Séverine..."

"No." She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. "No, because I need you to explain this to me."

I remained silent.

Her breathing turned uneven.

"Her family destroyed your life. They are the reason you still wake up screaming sometimes in the middle of the night. They are the reason you carry all that anger around inside you." Her eyes searched mine desperately. "You cannot even tolerate being touched half the time because of what happened to you."

Every word landed like a blow.

I wanted to interrupt.

I did not.

"You married her to torment her." Her voice cracked. "Do you remember that? Because I do. Everyone does."

I looked away.

"You said she would pay for what her family did. You said she was a means to an end."

My jaw tightened.

The memories were still there.

Every one of them.

The hatred.

The resentment.

The certainty that making Margaux suffer would somehow make everything balance again.

"So what am I supposed to believe?" Séverine asked. "That all of that just disappeared?"

"It wasn’t like that."

"Then what was it like?"

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because the truth was that I did not fully understand it myself.

She let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Do not tell me you simply forgave everything."

"I didn’t."

"So say it." Her voice had gone dangerously quiet. "Say what you actually mean, Étienne."

"Let us drop this... Séverine."

"No!!! Say it. I need to hear you say it!"

"Séverine..."

"Do not call my name like that! Why can you not say it? Fucking tell me how this happened."

The desperation in her voice made something twist painfully inside my chest.

"Tell me how the woman you once hated has somehow become more important than the woman who has spent years standing beside you."

I closed my eyes briefly.

There was no answer I could give that would not hurt her.

When I looked at her again, tears streamed down her face unchecked.

"You are not a weak man, Étienne."

I frowned.

"You do not forget things," she continued. "You do not abandon convictions overnight. You do not throw away years of fucking hatred because of a few moments of kindness."

The certainty in her voice faltered.

"Unless..."

The word hung unspoken between us.

Her expression crumpled.

"Oh, Goddess."

The realization seemed to hit her all at once.

Her hand rose to cover her mouth.

"Oh Goddess, you’re serious."

I felt my stomach sink.

"No," she whispered immediately, shaking her head. "No."

"Séverine."

"No," Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "Just tell me what she did."

I stared at her.

"What?"

"Tell me." Her voice broke. "Tell me what she did that was so special."

My chest tightened. "Séverine—"

"No, because there has to be something." She leaned forward despite the pain, desperation overtaking every trace of pride she had left. "There has to be a reason."

Her breathing turned ragged.

"Did she apologize? Is that it? Did she say the right thing? Did she do something for you that I didn’t?"

I remained silent.

She laughed shakily.

"I can do that," The words came out so quickly that they barely sounded considered. "I can do better."

My heart sank.

"Séverine—"

"I can."

Her eyes locked onto mine.

"Just tell me what it is."

Tears streamed freely down her face.

"Tell me what she did and I will do it."

Something sharp twisted inside me. "You do not mean that."

"I do."

Her answer came instantly.

"I have spent years loving you." Her voice cracked. "Years."

She swallowed hard.

"If she can change your mind, then tell me how. Tell me what I am supposed to do."

"Séverine."

"I will be better."

The words sounded pathetic even to her.

I could see it in the way her face twisted afterward.

But she kept going.

"I will stop arguing with you. I will stop pushing when you need space. I will become whatever version of myself you need me to be."

My jaw clenched.

"Séverine, stop."

"You got the file."

That made me freeze.

Her eyes searched mine frantically. "You saw in fresh light what her family did to you?!"

The room suddenly felt smaller.

"You saw everything."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"How could you possibly see her in a positive light after that?"

I looked away.

"It is the mate bond, isn’t it?"

The question was barely audible.

The bitterness in it hurt more than the accusation itself.

"It has to be." She laughed weakly through her tears. "Because otherwise none of this makes sense."

"Séverine."

"You have to love her."

"Stop."

"You have to forgive her."

"Stop."

"You have to choose her."

"Stop it, Séverine."

The words came out harder than I intended.

Silence fell instantly.

She stared at me.

I took a slow breath.

"This is not your fault."

Her face crumpled.

"It isn’t," I assured her.

"But—"

"It is not because you failed," I held her gaze. "It is not because you were not enough."

The tears continued falling down her cheeks.

"It is not because there is something she has that you do not."

My throat felt tight.

"You do not need to change anything about yourself for me."

For a moment, she simply looked at me. And somehow that hurt more than if she had shouted. Because I could see the exact instant she understood where this was going. The exact instant hope began slipping away.

"What I am trying to say," I said quietly, "is that when I thought she was drowning, something in me reacted before I had time to think at all."

The room remained utterly still.

"It was not loyalty. It was not an obligation. It was not even our fucking history."

I swallowed.

"It was something I have never once felt when I imagined losing you."

The words tasted like betrayal.

"And I have tried, Séverine."

Pain flashed across her face.

"I have genuinely tried to imagine it the same way."

My voice dropped lower.

"But I cannot."

The silence that followed was heavy with everything we could not bring ourselves to say.

"You love her," Séverine said. Flat, final, and stripped of the question mark it should have carried.

I did not answer.

I did not need to.

Her hand moved with surprising speed despite her injury, her palm striking my cheek with a force that echoed through my skull, the sound slicing through the hush of the infirmary.