The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 42: Chapter 42: The Moon Goddess Forgot to Take Pity on Me

Selene’s POV

I had promised myself I wouldn’t cry.

I swore it right here in this same room when Kael had dragged me here with the collar locked around my neck and stripped the last pieces of my name and freedom. I had stared at the stone walls then, numb but proud, and told myself I wouldn’t give them anything more. Especially not my tears.

But now they wouldn’t stop.

My body convulsed with each sob, my chest tightening as if ropes had wrapped around it. The cold tile beneath me was soaked through, muffling the gasps I tried so hard to hide. I pressed my face deeper into them, biting hard on my arm just to keep myself from screaming. But even that small act of control was slipping away.

The pain wasn’t just in my throat or chest.

It was everywhere. In the raw sting across my hips. In the tremble of my legs. In the places his hands had gripped too hard. There were bruises already...rising like angry flowers across my skin.

I dragged a shaking breath in, my fingers curling into my gown like claws. My arms had gone numb from how long I’d held myself there, bent forward, trying to disappear into the ground.

How could he do this?

The same man who used to chase me through moonlit halls as a boy. The same boy who once gave me a polished pebble and swore it was from the stars. He had shattered that version of himself tonight...smashed it like glass and made me bleed with the pieces.

gentle

touch hadn’t sought closeness. It had hunted something else...something vicious and punishing. I could still feel it lingering: the pressure of his grip around my arms, the way his mouth moved against mine like a monster. There was no tenderness in his voice, only disgust and

is where you belong, Selene... crawling and crying on the floor, right where

And God help me—I believed them in that moment. I had believed I was nothing. Because I couldn’t fight him when my innocence was

I pulled my legs to my chest, each movement slow and aching. My gown was twisted around my thighs, torn along one side, the delicate fabric stained and wrinkled. It didn’t cover much anymore. It didn’t matter now when I had already lost

fingers. I traced one absently with a trembling hand. My skin felt too

fix. But in the soul-rotting way that made you

And the worst part?

was because

that horrible, frozen way when your mind goes quiet and

clenched my fists so tightly my nails broke skin. I needed that pain.

aware of the condition I was sprawled in on the floor. My limbs were twisted

at all. But some part of me understood that if I stayed

bit into my skin. My other arm followed, trembling under the weight of my body and

under me. It felt like lifting a mountain. My

feet to the floor. The coldness shot through me like a jolt of reality. And then, I pushed myself

But still I stood.

One step.

Then another.