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.

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

his face," I hissed. "You carry his blood.

pull away. I squeezed harder. Something shifted under my

to see your eyes when I

and yanked the

grinding against metal. The chains snapped upward. Her arms jerked high. She gasped, feet barely touching the floor, her shoulders

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

"Every cry. Every scream. And do you know what your father did

see the hatred carved into

again. Until the flesh peeled back. Until the bones showed. Until

trembled now. But not

was everything I respected, admired, and loved. But this bitch and her father ruined everything. They stole

many times, he was

leather belt and snapped it

gasped as the cold

Do you

forward and took

Not gently.

they were weapons that

did?" My voice was soft now, like rot seeping through the cracks. "He tore my

thumb traced her

breathe.

my grip until her bones ground together. Until I

But I didn’t.

Not yet.

grabbed her chin again, forcing her to meet my eyes.

want to know what hurts the most?"

She looked confused. Pathetic.