The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

I didn't hear the gasps. Didn't feel the blood on my knuckles. Didn't notice the shocked faces gathering in a half-circle around me.

All I could hear was her voice—the head maid's filthy words echoing in my head like poison. Her insults still clinging to my skin like grease.

My breathing was sharp. My fists were aching. My body burning with fire. I was about to go at her again.

I didn't care if she was already half-conscious, bleeding on the courtyard stones. I didn't care if they chained me or beat me or dragged me to the dungeons this time.

She had spoken about my mother. She had spat on her name. And for that, I was going to make sure she never opened that vile mouth again.

I moved.

My foot lifted, ready to kick her across the face—

And then, I was flying.

Not forward. But backward.

A violent kick slammed into my ribs and knocked the air clean from my lungs.

I hit the ground hard, rolling once before I caught myself on my elbows, dazed, breathless.

What—

I blinked the blur from my eyes just in time to see him.

Luca.

Storming forward like a shadow cast from flame. His eyes were burning with anger, and his face—twisted with rage.

Not at her.

At me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, towering over me like I was filth. "Beating my people bloody in front of the whole damn estate?"

I pushed myself to my feet, wincing at the pain in my ribs, but I stood anyway. I would not kneel for him. Not again.

"She deserved it," I spat. "She talked about my mother like she was a common whore—"

"And you think that gives you the right to maim someone?" His voice cracked across the courtyard like thunder. "You think you get to lose control, to act like some wild animal just because your feelings got hurt?"

I laughed—low and bitter. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is that what hurts your pride? That a little slave girl dared to fight back?"

His nostrils flared as he looked at me with pure disgust, his voice curling like venom.

"Why am I even surprised? After all… it's in your nature, isn't it? Just like your father."

I froze.

"You couldn't stand anyone walking above you. Couldn't stand a single word that challenged your pride. You lose your reason the moment someone dares to speak." His eyes burned into me, cruel and merciless. "That's why you tried to kill her. Not because she insulted your mother. No. Because deep down, you're exactly like him—cruel. Bloodthirsty. Unhinged. A tyrant in chains."

My breath hitched, but he wasn't done.

"You didn't even last a few days before showing your true colors, did you?" He stepped closer, looming, his words cutting deeper than any blade. "You're not strong. You're unstable. A little slave girl, too broken to know when to bow and too proud to know her place."

The word slave hit like a slap to the face. He spat it with venom, like I was filth beneath his boots.

"That's all you are. A cursed reflection of your father. Nothing more."

I couldn't take it.

I lunged at him, fury blazing in my chest, but before I could even reach him—he grabbed me.

His arms clamped around mine, holding me back like I was nothing but a wild thing to be restrained.

"Then kill me!" I shouted, stepping closer, unafraid of his strength. "That's what you all want, isn't it? Just say the word and end it already, Luca! Because I swear to the Goddess, I am done living like this!"

His jaw clenched. His fists shook.

"Do you hear me?" I screamed at him. "I'm done! I'd rather rot in the ground than spend one more day crawling at your feet!"

And then I saw it.

That flicker in his eyes. That disgust. That cold, sharp look that said more than his words ever could.

He hated me.

And for one brief, broken second… it hurt.

But I welcomed the hurt.

It reminded me I was still human.

He stepped forward, grabbing my arms so hard I cried out.

"I warned you," he hissed, his voice so low it burned. "I told you what would happen if you kept crossing the line."

"I don't care!" I thrashed in his hold. "I'll cross every damn line until you hear me!"

"You're not worth hearing," he said, and those words cut deeper than any blade.

And before I could fight again, he moved swiftly.

He threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

"Put me down!" I screamed, pounding my fists against his back, twisting, kicking, anything. "You bastard! PUT ME DOWN!"

But he didn't.

Not even when I clawed at him. Not even when my nails dug into his skin.

"You can't die so easily, not before atoning for your sins," he muttered under his breath, his eyes going wild with fury and hatred. "You want chaos? You want fire? Fine. Then burn alone."

He stormed through the halls, every step a thunderclap. Servants scattered. Guards stared. No one dared to stop him.

No one dared save me.

"I hate you!" I screamed into his back. "I HATE YOU, LUCA!"

No answer.

"Coward! You're just a coward like the rest of them! You kill the ones who can't fight back! You call that power?!"

He kept walking.

"You're not my Alpha," I sobbed. "You're not anything to me!"

Still nothing.

Until finally, the hallway ended.

My body crashed down onto the stone floor of my room, tossed like I was no more than garbage.

I rolled once, groaning, the breath knocked from my chest.

He stood in the doorway, breathing hard, chest rising and falling, his eyes burning holes into the ground where I lay.

But he didn't speak. He didn't yell or curse or offer any cruel commands.

He didn't offer threats, not even the cold kind that usually rolled off his tongue like knives.

He didn't offer pity either—not a shred of it. Not even the hollow kind that dripped with superiority and disgust.

Just stared.

Stared at me like I was something alien. Something filthy. Something that had crawled out of a place he never wanted to understand.

As if trying to comprehend what kind of creature I even was—what sort of mistake the world had made in letting me exist.

And then he turned.

Without a word. Without a sigh. Without a flicker of remorse.

Without a backward glance. As if I had never even been there. As if I were nothing more than a stain.

The door slammed shut behind him, loud and final, like a sentence passed with no chance of appeal.

And I...

I didn't scream this time.

I just curled in on myself, staring at the ceiling, fists clenched. And whispered to the silence—

"I am not your slave."