The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 68: Chapter 68: Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack

Selene suddenly stepped back, her shadow peeling away from his as if she’d just lost interest. But the mutter that left her lips was low and dangerous.

"It seems you don’t open your mouth with beating..."

Before Kellan could smirk again, she raised her hand and bit into the pad of her own finger, deep enough for blood to well bright and scarlet. In the same motion, she seized his chin, forcing his head up until his neck strained painfully.

Her smile was sweet in a way that made Kellan’s skin crawl.

"Now... when you open your eyes again, be ready to tell the truth," she whispered. "Or I’ll show you a thousand more methods like this."

Kellan jerked against the chains, but she was already moving, her blood trailing in a deliberate pattern across his sweat-slick skin. A strange symbol began to form on his forehead, the lines sharp and exact, each one drawn with unshaking precision.

The moment the last stroke connected, the mark brightened faintly, glowing like a dying ember... and then sank into his skin, vanishing as though it had never been there.

Kellan’s composure broke. He thrashed violently, eyes wild.

"What the fuck are you doing, bitch?! I told you—I don’t know anything! We don’t have any witches! Let me go!" His voice cracked into something that almost sounded like fear.

Selene didn’t even look at him. "We’ll see whether you truly know nothing... or whether your lies just ran out of time."

She turned, already walking toward the doorway. "Come, Sara. Leave him here with his misery."

a moment before following, her steps quick. When they were far enough that his chains were just faint rattles behind them,

gave a

yet even she had never reached the level needed to draw that symbol. It was an advanced level of witchcraft that only some old witches were able to perform. And

like Selene in front of her was really worthy

a heartbeat later

the throat of a man who had thought himself untouchable. It was followed by pleading, the words tumbling over each other in a cracked, desperate

She

enough on their own, but this... this was the highest tier. A spell that didn’t just twist sight and sound but turned the mind inward—forcing the victim to feel

scream they’d dragged from a

lash, every bite, every breaking

someone had prayed for it

from a safe distance. They became his reality. The roles reversed, and the torturer became

it was almost impossible to manipulate a mind so deeply without shattering it completely. And the darker a person’s sins,

would suffer more than

him—a collection of testimonies, names, and horrors. The things he’d done to young witches weren’t just cruel. They were... depraved. And now, listening to his choked, broken sobs echo through the stone hall, Sara knew he had

He knew exactly where

tightened. Her eyes misted despite herself, unbidden images

ago. She was barefoot and starved from who knows how long. Her wrists were nothing but raw rings of scar tissue from iron manacles. The way she had flinched at the sound of a man’s voice. How she had died within a week of freedom,

truth now—it was just another den of monsters. Monsters who hunted and chained and drained witches until nothing was