The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 67: Chapter 67: Brain-Dead Alphas

Selene’s movement stilled at the mention of the name, Alpha Aeron. It was really absurd that someone was asking whether she had heard it or not. She did not only hear but...

She had never thought she would hear that name again, especially not like this, after a year, and from the mouth of her enemy.

For a fraction of a second, her eyes changed just enough for Sara, watching from the corner, to notice. But almost immediately, they returned to their usual calm, like the stillness of a lake after a ripple.

Kellan’s smirk widened, certain he had just found her weak point. He was always right—if anyone didn’t fear his father, then they definitely feared them, the Dusk Draven alphas.

"Ah... so you have heard of them. Good. Then you know you’re not just in trouble... you’re already dead."

Selene stepped closer until her shadow drowned his. The faint shimmer of silver bled into her irises, making him flinch before he could stop himself.

"If they’re so dangerous, then they’d better hurry," she murmured.

Then came the smile—cold, sharp, and promising pain. "Because if they take too long... there won’t be enough of you left for them to save."

Her fist struck him, again and again. Each blow was a solid, merciless crack against flesh and bone, the sound echoing through the damp stone walls.

Sara’s stomach churned at the wet thud of impact, at the way blood pattered against the floor like rain. Chains rattled violently with every strike, and Kellan’s smug laughter bled into low snarls, then into the guttural, broken sound of a man losing his arrogance.

the arrogant jerk was howling like a mangy mutt, begging for mercy. His lips was split open, his skin blooming with purples and reds from head to toe. But Selene didn’t

rage—it was routine. Beating bastards like him was just another day’s work... the fastest way to pry

head back until his neck strained. "How many witches does your father

What are you talking

Realization dawned, and for the first time, there was a shadow of unease in his gaze. Yet his lips curved in a bloodied

He laughed, the

nothing but pathetic little rats... hiding in your holes, too scared to even fight back. Or did you finally hire some other race

slid past her, settling on Sara with open mockery. "That one, sure. She looks like a witch. But you... silver hair and eyes like a blade—what the fuck are you? I’ve never seen a witch

mind, witches weren’t

they could barely keep safe. Creatures of their kind had been hunted,

of their magic drop by drop, forced to live long

in dungeons for years, chained in iron that burned their skin until it was nothing but scar tissue, fed only enough to keep them alive so their magic wouldn’t

were used for sport, their screams echoing in the night as young alphas learned to "play" with

torture witches. He made games out of it. He would whisper promises of freedom just to watch their hope crack when he

them to heal so he could start all over again. And when they were too broken to fight back, he would pass them along to the others

sideways. If he hadn’t been an alpha, that single slap

deaf?