The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 33: Chapter 33: She Is My Criminal

I stepped back after fastening the collar, my fingers brushing over the polished leather like I was sealing a sentence I had waited years to speak. The little heart-shaped bell chimed softly in the silence, but to me, it screamed. Just like I had once screamed under her father’s man. Just like he did—before the end.

I looked at her.

Not the way I used to.

Not with hope or warmth or the weakness I once mistook for love. and my rage had only worsen after last night. And the thought kept bugging me that I am still falling for her innocent face.

"You think this is cruel?" My voice came out low, strained, shaking under the weight I carried. "You think this is humiliation?"

I paced in front of her, every step scraping through years of agony. Years of silence. Years of watching her live freely while the image of my father dying never left me.

"I’ll show you what humiliation really looks like," I said. My boots stopped. I turned, meeting her wide, trembling eyes. "It looks like my father. On his knees. Bleeding and Begging."

My voice cracked. But I didn’t care. I needed her to hear it So at least she can stop using her innocent face against me.

"My father was the Alpha of the Silver Dawn Pack. A warrior. Proud. Strong. Respected. And your father—" I pointed at her like her very breath insulted me, "—your father stripped him of everything. His pride. His strength. His name. His pack."

I stepped closer, close enough that my breath landed on her skin. She flinched. Good.

"Do you know how he died?" I whispered. "He died naked. Chained. Crawling on all fours across the courtyard in front of his warriors—his children. Forced to lick your father’s boots clean to buy us mercy."

Disgust curled my lip. "And when he was done, when he had nothing left to give—your father laughed. And slit his throat like a pig."

She inhaled sharply. Her chest heaved like she was suffocating.

Good.

"He made me watch everything."

My voice dropped lower, heavy with gravel and memory. "Your father made the guards hold my eyes open. I saw everything. Every drop of blood. Every scream. Every whip."

I moved without thinking.

Her whimper cut through the room, but I didn’t let go. I wanted her to hurt.

face," I hissed. "You carry his blood. And it disgusts

harder. Something shifted

want to see your eyes when

turned and yanked the

The chains snapped upward. Her arms jerked high. She gasped,

letting my fingers drift across her back. She flinched, and pain shot through her—visible

my father made," I whispered into her ear. "Every cry. Every

around, so she could see the hatred

again. Until the flesh peeled back. Until the bones showed. Until he collapsed. And even

now. But not

yesterday. My father... he was everything I respected, admired,

how many times,

my leather belt and snapped it once

the cold

I whispered. "Just one. Do you know

stepped forward and

Not gently.

fingers like they were weapons that

your father did?" My voice was soft now, like rot seeping through the

traced her

couldn’t breathe. I

her bones ground together. Until I

But I didn’t.

Not yet.

her to meet my eyes. They were wild now. Bloodshot.

want to know what hurts

She looked confused. Pathetic.