Claimed by the scarred Alpha

MARGAUX

It was so relieving to hear that. Even if I did not fully believe that.

"Do you think her sacrifice is what allowed them to come back?" I asked. "To say goodbye?"

"I don’t know," he said. "But it feels like it, doesn’t it? Like the universe finally settling some accounts all at once."

I leaned my head against his shoulder, and he let me, his free hand coming up to rest gently against my hair.

"I’m sorry," I said. "For yelling at you earlier. When you told me it would be alright."

"You don’t have to apologize for that."

"I do," I insisted. "You didn’t deserve it. You were just trying to comfort me, and I threw it back in your face because it was too much, hearing anyone tell me things were fine when nothing about tonight felt fine at all."

"I understood," he said. "I still understand. Grief doesn’t exactly leave room for politeness."

"Still," I said. "I’m sorry."

He pressed a kiss against the top of my head, brief and warm.

"This is the first time I’ve actually grieved with someone instead of alone," he admitted quietly. "Every loss before tonight, I carried by myself. Even when Laurent was right there beside me, some part of me always kept the worst of it locked away where he couldn’t see it."

"Why?"

"Habit, I think. Or fear. Grief felt like something private. Something shameful, almost, like admitting how much it hurt made me weaker somehow."

"And now?"

He turned his head, and our eyes met properly for the first time since I’d sat down.

"Now it’s nice," he said, "having someone right here beside me instead."

Something in my chest loosened at that, warm and aching all at once.

"I feel the same way," I said.

We sat there for a long moment, foreheads slowly drifting together until they touched, no urgency behind it, nothing rushed or demanding, just the quiet, solid comfort of being close to someone who understood exactly what tonight had cost without needing it explained.

I closed my eyes.

I could feel his breath against my face, steady and slow, and for the first time since waking up from that white room, I felt something close to peace settle over me.

"We need to bury her properly," I said eventually, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "Isabelle. Not some rushed, quiet burial where we lay her to rest and move on as if nothing happened. Once the truth about her and her crimes comes out to Beaumont, it will be hell. I do not want that for her. She deserves a real service. She deserves to be mourned, and she deserves for people to know what she did tonight, even if most of them will never understand the choices she made or the price she paid for them."

"I agree," he said. "Whatever ceremony Valcourt can offer, it’s yours to arrange however you want it."

"Prim and her family too," I added.

I looked at him, and something changed in his expression. He seemed to hesitate, as though he had thought of something but wasn’t sure whether he should say it.

"What?"

"My family," he said after a moment. "Yann. My mother. My father, wherever their remains ended up." His gaze dropped to our hands. "They never got any of this. A proper funeral. A place to put them. Everything happened so quickly, and by the time the dust settled, there was no one left to do it."

"You want to bury them too."

He nodded.

"With Isabelle?"

"Not with her." He shook his head. "But maybe on the same day. Give all of them the goodbye they never got." He paused, his fingers tightening around mine. "Yann. My mother. My father. Isabelle. Prim and her family. Everyone who was caught up in this."

The weight of it settled over me.

All those people. All those lives that had ended without anyone stopping long enough to mourn them properly.

"I think I’d like that," I said.

His eyes lifted to mine and it prompted me to say something.

"There is something you should know."

"What?"

"Your family’s remains..." I hesitated, suddenly unsure how to say it without making it sound as though I had been keeping some terrible secret from him. "I have them."

He stared at me. "What do you mean, you have them?"

"I kept them." My voice softened. "Your mother’s ashes. Yann’s. Your father’s too, or what was recovered of him. I couldn’t bring myself to let them disappear completely after everything that happened."

For a moment, he said nothing.

"I should have told you sooner," I said quietly. "I know I should have. I just... it never really occurred to me to mention it. I had kept them safe for so long that, in my mind, they were already at rest in those urns. I had made peace with that. But now that you’ve mentioned burying them, after all this time, I realize how much it must mean to you, and I should have—"

His hand came up gently, his fingers resting against my lips.

"I’m not mad."

I looked at him.

"Not even a little." His thumb brushed lightly against my cheek as he lowered his hand. "You kept them safe. You made sure they weren’t lost. Do you understand what that means to me?"

I swallowed and shook my head.

"I don’t think I do."

"I’ve spent years not knowing where they were. Not knowing if anyone had even thought about what happened to them after that fire ravaged their bodies." His voice caught slightly before he steadied it. "They were seen as sinners after all. And all this time, you had them. You looked after them when I couldn’t."

Something tightened in my throat.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Really. Thank you."

"You don’t have to thank me. What happened that night will still haunt me."

"I do." he cut in. "I do."

He leaned closer, his forehead touching mine again.

"Thank you," he repeated, softer this time.

I barely had time to breathe before he kissed me.

There was nothing hurried about it. No desperation, no grief trying to disguise itself as something else. Just warmth, gratitude, and the quiet certainty that somehow, after everything we had lost, we were still here.

I kissed him back, my fingers tightening around his.

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