The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 103: Chapter 103: My Traitorous Body

Selene’s POV~

The house was perfectly dark when I stepped inside. I reached for the switch by the door, and the light flickered on, pale and steady, chasing the darkness back into the corners. The silence felt thick, pressing against my ears, but it was better than the noise of the world outside.

My body was still trembling, my breath uneven, and the fog in my mind had grown heavier. It was getting harder to focus, harder to see clearly, like my eyes were covered in a thin veil. I knew it would only get worse, so I had to prepare myself before the cycle swallowed me completely.

The first thing I did was lock the door and check it twice to make sure no one could come in. I couldn’t take the risk. Not in this state.

Then I headed straight for the kitchen. My legs felt weak, my hands shaky, but I forced myself to move quickly, pulling open the cupboards, the drawers, and the fridge. I didn’t need anything heavy, nothing that would take time to cook.

I only grabbed what I knew I would need—whatever was easy to reach—and bottles of water that would be my emergency ration. I didn’t trust myself to step outside once the heat took over, so I had to keep everything close, right where I could reach it easily.

Carrying the things in my arms, I made my way through the quiet hall until I found the guest room. It was simple, clean, and empty, and that was enough. I stepped inside and locked that door too.

The air inside felt cooler, and I set all the food and bottles on the bedside table, arranging them quickly before my hands started to tremble again.

My throat was dry, my chest still burning, but I told myself it was fine. I had what I needed. I could stay here. I could hide here until it passed.

pulled off my clothes one by one until only my lingerie clung to my skin, and then I stepped into the

it looked like salvation to me. I turned on the tap,

already damp with sweat, and the steam of my own body heat made the air thick. I

seconds it began to warm, my burning skin stealing its coolness. I slid deeper, letting it

closing on their own. The ache in me didn’t vanish, but for the first time it softened. The restless fire dulled, just a little, and I felt my muscles loosen against

relief was also gone. The cold water started losing its goodness. It should have numbed me, but instead it steamed against my skin,

chill that should have soothed me was swallowed up, leaving only more heat, more

pressed myself deeper into the tub, gripping the edges until my knuckles turned white,

the tears stung behind my eyes. I wanted to cry, to scream, to beg for it to stop,

much. Too heavy. Too consuming. My body felt like it was losing itself, like it was slipping past

streams, again and again, desperate to quench the fire

me, it grew warm, as if mocking me. I leaned back, my wet hair clinging to my face and bare shoulders, my chest rising and falling too fast, my whole body shaking as if it couldn’t

hold myself together, but the truth echoed louder in my mind—this wasn’t something I could fight. This wasn’t something I could

the walls of the bathroom seemed to blur, and shame burned hotter than the heat in my veins. I hated this. I hated how my body begged for something, anything, to release it. I hated how

survived two of these cycles already. I had found a way to endure, a way to

flushed with the thought alone, and I wanted to deny it, to refuse, but deep down I knew I had