The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 75: Chapter 75: The Storm in His Eyes

Selene’s POV~

My blood turned cold.

Why was he here?

Never...not in a thousand lifetimes, did I think I would meet him like this. Amid chandeliers and laughter, in a hall full of rotting wolves and power-hungry Alphas. Of all places, this was the last I ever expected to see him.

The Silver Dawn Alphas never came to gatherings like these; they kept to their own lands, aloof and untouchable. That was why I had dared to step into this den of beasts in the first place. I thought he would never be here.

And yet he was.

Even though my face was changed, my hair was as black as ink instead of silver, and even though my very scent was twisted by enchantment—I could not be sure. Would he still know me? Would the mate bond tear through all my protections and strip away my mask in an instant?

It shouldn’t be possible. I had used the strongest spell, the kind that bent bone and breath itself. It should hold. It had to hold.

I forced my lungs to steady and my heart to slow. I could not let fear unravel me tonight. I would not ruin everything because of him.

So what if he recognized me? I had done nothing wrong. I had no reason to hide. Why should I always be the one to bow my head, to run?

No. Not anymore.

as it pulled toward him. I cursed under my breath, cursed the mate bond, and cursed the demon part of me that wanted to throw myself at him. I hated it. I hated him. I hated the way my own body

the crowd, slipping between shoulders and

I felt

A gaze.

Heavy and Unyielding.

finally looked

away until there

my face stayed calm. No flicker, no emotion, no weakness. I

eyes

my breath escaping in a quiet

seem as though I was merely admiring the polished chandeliers, the sweeping gowns, and the laughter that gilded the air. But inside my chest, the old wounds bled

other Alphas trailing behind him like dogs desperate for scraps. A year ago, they had

dominance still uncertain, still contested. Yet now others almost bent their knees

both they and I had come so far in such a short time. A year ago, I had been nothing more than their broken toy, their shadow, their shame. And now, here I stood here, free enough to stand in a hall

something colder,

and untouchable. Perhaps because he had never directly dirtied his hands on me. Or perhaps because, in his eyes, I had always

was

of them. Still a brother to the one who had shredded my life apart piece by

never to return. The past was a corpse I had buried, yet