The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 15: Chapter 15: The Weight of Survival

Luca’s POV

I walked in silence, my boots carrying me through the familiar corridors of the Alpha’s hall. Each step echoed through the stone walls, but I paid no attention to the sound. My mind was a storm.

A mess of emotions and responsibilities I couldn’t afford to ignore. I needed clarity, and for me, that only came through structure—through control. The best way to quiet the storm was to drown myself in work.

I pushed open the doors to my personal office. The scent of parchment and aged wood hit me like home. The long obsidian table stretched across the room with old maps and new plans scattered across it, corners curled, stained with ink, sweat, and decisions made in blood. I sat down heavily at the head of the table and exhaled slowly, willing the chaos inside me to settle.

There was no room for distractions. Not now.

Not with everything we had to rebuild.

The Silver Dawn Pack had been broken, shattered by the war we waged to take back what was ours. We had won—but winning did not feel like triumph. It felt like another burden. Another mountain to climb.

Our Silver Dawn Pack, once proud and vast, had been nearly wiped out. And now, thousands of Silver Dawn wolves lived under our rule, most of them still uncertain if they were prisoners or family.

My brothers and I had made the decision the moment we seized the Crimson throne. We would not become Alpha Eirik. We would not mimic the man who once wore the same cold smile as he butchered our father.

Four years ago, things were different. We were eighteen. Young. Naive. Back then, we believed peace was possible. Our father had spoken often of unity. He believed we could bridge the distance between our packs. That one day, Crimson Fang and Silver Dawn could stand together.

Alpha Eirik played along with the illusion well.

day. The sky had been clear, the air warm with the scent of pine and river wind. We were supposed to discuss treaties and trade. Strengthen

a few of our most trusted guards, because we believed in diplomacy. My father believed in

repaid that trust with

in the outer hall when the

scent of blood was already everywhere—fresh and iron-thick. My mother’s scream echoed through stone before it was abruptly cut off. When I saw her body, blood gushing

fought to his last breath, back to back with our

were forced

memory. I still remember Kael’s voice screaming my name. Lucian’s breathing turning into sobs. Aeron bleeding from his shoulder but

was our father’s Beta—Marek—who forced us to leave. He stayed behind to hold the line. Bought us enough time to vanish into

we

world, hiding in outposts, abandoned dens, and rogue

reduced to nothing

because he was merciful, but because he wanted the illusion of dignity

of

dead. His rule has ended. His legacy shattered beneath our hands. But the damage remains, etched into the soil and the hearts of the people he

my temples, staring down at the latest report from our border guards. It detailed the population

them are killed, starved and scattered. Some had simply stopped hoping. Others had disappeared without a trace. The ruins of what once was a proud pack were now our

many of them still feared us—others hated us. But I had made it clear from day one. This war was never against

not loathe the young mothers who wept for sons they had lost on both sides. They deserved peace. They deserved a life better than the scraps

build itself. And loyalty was

had to be