The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 41: Chapter 41: The Breaking Point

This Chapter contains mature and sensitive content, including scenes of psychological distress. These elements are integral to the characters’ journeys and the dark themes of the story, but they may be triggering or uncomfortable for some readers.

Please read at your own discretion.

If you are uncomfortable directly proceed with Chapter 46.

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Lucian’s POV ~

She turned her face away from me.

That one small movement. That one deliberate, shattering act... it broke something inside me.

As if I was filth. As if my touch would smear dirt on her body.

And she is some untouchable goddess who couldn’t bear to be tainted by someone like me.

My chest rose and fell with erratic breath. I stared down at her tear-streaked face, and all I could feel was heat boiling in my veins. Rage, shame, need all of them twisted inside me at once.

She wasn’t supposed to cry for him. Did he matter to her so much?

She wasn’t supposed to look at me like I was the monster...like I had stolen something sacred.

My fingers dug into her chin again, forcing her to look at me. "Look at me, damn you," I hissed, my voice barely human. "You don’t get to look away from me."

Her lips trembled, but her goddamn eyes still refused to meet mine.

snapped inside me. I could no longer tolerate her like this. All my reasoning was gone, and before I realized it... my mouth caught her

meant to be soft. It wasn’t meant to be gentle. It was anger — the rage boiling inside

her to feel what I had

burning through me. But I still wasn’t done... I wanted her to feel

gripped her thigh and clenched it hard enough to leave a mark, dragging her body flush against mine. Her already flimsy gown had ridden up past her stomach, leaving her bare beneath me, with only a single piece of

I held her close enough, I could make her understand...

But it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was enough.

roaming up the curve of her waist, tracing the softness of skin I had once only dreamed of touching. Every inch ignited something inside me—pain, need, fury—all tangled into a storm I

me, but I didn’t stop. My fingers slid over her stomach, up to the dip of her collarbone, memorizing every line like it could somehow erase the memories that haunted me. As if knowing her body now could make up for the years she had belonged to

needed her to feel this. To

buried under every shift of the moon, every silent night when my wolf cried

palm brushed over her breast, hesitant only for a second before I gripped it...not with tenderness, but with desperation, like

Still... it wasn’t enough.

was beneath me, the space between us remained—aching, hollow, broken because of what she had

trembled beneath

From confusion. From the

to shift, trying to close—anything to shield herself. But I held

beneath mine, soft and desperate, and it only fed

and broken between muffled cries. Her head turned to the side again, refusing to meet my eyes, her hair clinging to her tear-streaked

her body... gods, her body trembled like a fragile thread about to snap. Her chest heaved against me, and when I kneaded her breast, she let out a strangled sob,

I should have stopped.

I

still, I couldn’t