The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Selene's Pov

The stone beneath me was cold. Hard. But I didn't move.

Tears had dried on my cheeks hours ago, leaving nothing but the tight sting around my eyes. My fingers still trembled from the confrontation. My muscles ached, but it wasn't the bruises that made them sore. It was everything else...the weight of being hated, the humiliation, the mark burned into my flesh, the helplessness that clung to my skin like rot.

No one came for me.

That was the only mercy the night offered.

I kept waiting. I thought someone would barge in through the door any moment and drag me away—maybe to the dungeons, maybe to be whipped in front of the entire pack. After all, I'd struck back. I had thrown punches and that too as a slave.

But nothing happened.

The silence stretched. My heart beat fast for a long time, but eventually, even fear grew tired. My body, pushed past its limits, gave up. I curled up on the floor of my tiny, suffocating quarters still filthy from the scuffle and fell asleep.

When I woke, it was to the sound of a single, firm knock. Not shouting or any threats.

I blinked, my head pounding. My back was stiff from sleeping on the hard surface, but the knock pulled me into full awareness. I sat up slowly, arms tightening around myself.

The door opened on its own.

An older woman stepped in. She wore the standard omega uniform but carried herself with an authority that made me instinctively straighten. Her hair was tied in a strict bun, black strands neatly tucked. Her face was lined but firm. She looked at me for a long moment, not with disgust or sympathy, just a measuring stare.

"I'm your new handler," she said curtly. "Assigned directly by Alpha Luca. My name is Mariam. From today, you take orders from me—and the Alphas. No one else. Is that clear?"

I nodded quickly. I didn't dare ask where the previous head maid had gone. Nor did I question this sudden change. I had learned my lesson.

Mariam set down a folded bundle of clothes on the small wooden stool in the corner. "Two sets. Okay, They are your uniform and your undergarments. Keep them clean. You will not get another if they got ruined. They're new. And that's a privilege most slaves don't get."

I glanced at the clothes. They were not good, not even soft, but… clean. The fabric wasn't coarse. The underwear looked plain, but not torn or used. I blinked rapidly, surprised by the wave of emotion that came with that simple kindness.

"Wash up. Eat in the servant's hall. Then report to me."

I nodded again, quietly.

Before leaving, Mariam added one last thing, her voice firm. "If someone tries to bully you again—tell me. I'm not here to protect you. But I also don't tolerate lies and sabotage in the Alpha's household. Stay in your place. Do your work. Keep your mouth shut. You'll live."

Then she left.

The silence returned.

I sat there for a moment, letting her words settle. There was no kindness in them. But there was also no cruelty. I could live with that. I didn't need protection. I didn't want comfort. I just didn't want to be dragged into more traps.

If they don't corner me, I won't lash out.

But if they do…

Then I'll make sure I bite harder than last time.

Because now, there's nothing left to lose. I've already been branded, stripped and humiliated. What could be worse than this?

I gathered the clothes and headed out of the room. The shared bathing chambers were a few halls away, but at this hour, no one was there. The building was quiet. Everyone had already finished washing, and has gone to wither eat or to work. That was fine by me. I didn't want their stares. I didn't want to hear their whispers again.

The warm water from the tap was rare. A luxury, really. I let it wash down my back in silence, scrubbing myself until my skin stung. I didn't care. I needed the old scent gone. The blood. The shame and that bitch's blood that was all over me. I needed to wash it off, which had clung to me like dirt.

Once clean, I slipped into the new uniform. It wasn't pretty—but it fit well. The sleeves weren't torn, the hem was neat, and for the first time since being dragged here, I didn't feel like a walking corpse.

I walked to the omega dining hall next. Heads turned towards me. Every pair of eyes followed me as I walked past rows of benches. Whispers rose from every corner but I ignored them all.

I didn't sit at the center. I picked a spot at the edge, close to the exit. My tray held stale bread and a ladle of lukewarm stew—but it was food. I ate slowly and quietly. Not once did I raise my head to meet their stares.

They wanted to see me starve. So i could collapse and they could further find a way to humiliate me.

But I wouldn't.

If they saw me suffer, it would feed their illusion of power.

I would not give them that.

Not anymore.

Each bite I took was bitter, but necessary. My body needed strength. Not for survival but for my plan.

It wasn't time yet. But soon. A few more days. Just a few more.

Just as I placed the last piece of stale bread into my mouth, a loud snicker broke the low murmur of the dining hall. I didn't have to look to know it was directed at me. The tone was too familiar.

"Well, well," a voice rang out, deliberately loud. "Look who thinks she's still worth something."

I didn't flinch. I kept chewing, eyes fixed on my tray.

A tray clattered onto the bench across mine. I saw movement from the corner of my eye—two omegas, girls I vaguely recognized from the cleaning rotations. One had red-stained nails and the other wore her jealousy like perfume. Cheap and choking.

"Didn't think you'd show your face again," the red-nailed one said sweetly, setting her chin in her hand. "After all, didn't you nearly rip out someone's throat yesterday?"