The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

"No…!" I rasped, trying to pull away. But his grip only tightened.

Laughter thundered through the room filled with mockery. A crowd of hyenas drunk on blood.

"Can't even control a little bitch like her?" someone hooted. "What kind of dominant are you, Alex?!"

His name is Alex. The brute who now had his hand buried in my hair, yanking me harder as the others goaded him on.

My breath hitched, heart slamming in my chest as pain tore across my scalp and neck. Alex growled and pushed harder, my face hitting Lucien's thigh with a thud that made me groan. I could barely think, could barely breathe.

Suddenly, his crushing hand was gone... gently pried away.

I gasped, the air burning my throat. My cheek still rested against Lucien's leg. His scent — wine and smoke and cold steel filled my senses. But I couldn't even process it before I heard his voice.

"Don't be so rough with my little slave, Alex."

His tone was soft almost playful but it dripped with mockery. Mockery that wasn't meant for Alex. It was meant for me.

To the casual observer, it may have seemed that Lucien was being merciful. His voice soft, his grip firm yet measured as he pulled Alex's brutal hand away from Selene's fragile neck.

But to the men in the hall, the ones who had lived through the fires her father lit. Lucien's words were laced with cruelty of a different kind.

He wasn't protecting Selene.

He was prolonging the spectacle. And the room knew it.

Kael's voice came next, sharp and disgusted like a blade unsheathed.

"Brother, why bother training her yourself? Just throw her in the Warrior's quarters. I bet she'll be properly trained in a single night."

A hush settled in the air, the kind that stretches before the explosion. Then the dam broke.

"Yes!"

"She belongs there anyway!"

"Throw her in the quarters, let the warriors teach her submission!"

"She's the tyrant's daughter, the most beautiful bitch in the werewolf domain. Let's all have a taste!"

Their voices were jagged, echoing off stone walls like the cries of wounded beasts finally let loose.

Because for them, Selene wasn't some fragile flower fallen from grace.

She was his daughter.

And they remembered her clearly.

The cold way she used to stare from behind her father's throne — unmoved, untouchable, wrapped in silk and pride.

She never flinched when warriors were dragged in chains before her. Never blinked when sobbing girls were pulled away, screaming for mercy. She'd walk by the cages without turning her head. She dined while others were whipped outside.

"She watched," a warrior growled now, stepping forward, voice shaking with fury. "She watched while my sister was dragged by her father's enforcers. Didn't say a damn word."

Another barked from the back, "My mate begged her for help. Her guard spat in her face. And she just turned away."

"She's not innocent," someone hissed. "She's filthy whore who knows how to gain sympathy with her tears."

And they believed it, every word. In their eyes, Selene wasn't a helpless girl caught in the tide of war. She was the war. Her name was sewn into the memories of their destruction, her face carved into the silence of every night they'd held loved ones as they died.

She had walked among their pain with her chin lifted and her heart cold.

"She's the reason our brothers died!" one man roared, fist slamming into the table. "The reason our mothers were defiled, our sisters ruined. Now it's our turn to take something back!"

"Let her feel what her father made us feel!"

"Let her scream like our families did!"

"She doesn't deserve pity. She deserves what she sowed!"

It wasn't just bloodlust. It was grief sharpened by years of silence. Vengeance born from too many funerals and too little justice.

The kind of pain that shapes men into monsters — not because they want to be, but because they've been left with nothing else.

They hated her pride. Hated the way her back refused to bend completely, how her eyes still held the dim flame of defiance. Even after all this, she still carried herself like royalty.

That infuriated them.

"She's still proud," one of them spat. "Still thinks she's above us."

"She should be crawling, begging to be spared."

"She should know what it's like to have everything taken."

"Let her serve in the quarters!" another voice rang out. "Let her atone with her body!"

The roar that followed was deafening. Dozens of warriors standing — fists pounding tables, mouths twisted in rage, voices hoarse from years of buried grief.

Selene's heart beat like a war drum, her breath shallow. But none of them saw a girl anymore.

Only the child of the man who had destroyed their past.

They didn't care that she was young. They didn't care that she was marked.

They saw her as the blade that cut them… and now, they wanted to break it.

Not out of cruelty. But to make the pain stop. To let their ghosts finally rest. To say — for once — we had justice.

Even if it came at the cost of her soul.

The air was thick with rage, the heat of it suffocating. The wolves who once obeyed quietly now rose as one, bound by the shared torment her bloodline had caused them. It was no longer just vengeance — it had become judgment. And Selene was the sentence.

She couldn't breathe.

Her body trembled uncontrollably as their voices rose louder, overlapping with vicious intent. Her throat felt tight, but her legs moved before thought could stop them. Instinct took over — primal and desperate.

She stumbled toward Lucien's side, her fingers reaching blindly, and they found his hand. She clutched it without thinking, gripping it tight, nails digging in with fear.

Her heart screamed. Please…

She didn't say it aloud, but the plea was carved into her soul. She hoped that he would deny them. That he'd pull her behind him, tell them she belonged to him and not to their wrath. That he'd protect her, even mockingly, just to keep her from being thrown to them like a lamb to slaughter.

But then…

Kael rose and his voice shattered everything she had.

"The warriors of the Silver Dawn pack speak the truth," he said coldly. "They have all suffered because of this bitch… and her father. It is only right they take her to teach her a lesson. To avenge themselves and their families."

Selene's world shattered.

Her breath caught in her chest, and the tears she'd held back finally broke free. A sharp, guttural sob burst from her lips.

"No!" she cried. "You can't do this to me! Please I'm innocent! I've done nothing wrong!"

But it didn't matter.

Her voice was just another sound in the room. One that none of them cared to hear.

She didn't want this. She didn't want to be thrown into that pit. She knew exactly what would happen in the warriors' quarters.

The stories, she'd heard them growing up. Even as a noble, she knew. And now, stripped of her name and title, she'd become the kind of prey she once watched from afar.

She would rather scrub floors… be nothing… live invisible… anything but that.

"I'll do anything! Anything else!" she sobbed, falling to her knees, hands pressed to the floor. "Please don't make me go there! I'm not like him...I never was! I never hurt you...please...!"

Her voice cracked again and again as she begged, the words pouring from her like water from a broken dam. But the alphas… they didn't move.

They watched her crumble with the same expression someone might give to filth in the street.

And slowly, Selene felt her voice grow quieter.

Not from calm… but from hopelessness.

She looked up through blurred vision and realized something that stole the breath from her lungs... there was nothing in their eyes.

No pity. No disgust. Not even hatred.

Just… cold emptiness.

As if she were something beneath even their rage.

Rough hands grabbed her arms from both sides. two burly warriors dragging her up. She screamed, kicked, twisted her shoulders, but they didn't even flinch. She was too light for them. A leaf in the grip of giants.

Her eyes frantically searched the hall one last time and then she saw them.

The other two brothers.

Alpha Aeron and Alpha Luca.

They had been there the whole time.

Sitting at the back, quiet and detached. She hadn't noticed them until now and her heart sank all over again.

Luca… was watching with a faint glimmer of amusement, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly as if enjoying a cruel joke. His arms were crossed lazily, his eyes sharp, unbothered.

But Aeron…

Aeron looked right at her and yet through her.

His gaze was distant, unreadable. Cold and hollow. Like his mind wasn't even in the room. And even though their eyes met… she felt nothing. Not recognition. Not hatred. Just indifference. As if she didn't exist. As if her pain wasn't worth registering.

That silence pierced deeper than any insult.

Selene sobbed again, louder now, but no one came.

No one stopped them.

The warriors lifted her like a ragdoll, her legs too weak to stand, her cries choking on her lips. One man slung her over his shoulder with ease, her long hair dangling, her fingers twitching. Behind him, more men followed with dark eyes and cruel smirk.

She was being taken.

Dragged to a place where no dignity remained.

A place no woman ever wanted to go.

And in that final moment as the grand doors opened, and she was hoisted like lifeless dool past the threshold, a hollow numbness settled into her bones.

Her end had finally come.