The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 125: Chapter 125: The Hidden Traitor

Selene sat quietly at the table, her hands wrapped around a cup of water that had long gone warm. She didn’t know how much time had passed and she had sat just like this, zoned in her own memories.

She only snapped back when she heard the opening of the door and saw Sara’s cheerful eyes.

"Selene! We’re back."

Sara came in first, her cheeks flushed from the night air, followed by Aswin and Rael who carried a basket of fruits.

Their laughter filled the room, but it faded the moment they caught sight of her expression.

Selene raised her eyes slowly. The heaviness there made all three of them stop.

"Selene..." Sara’s smile faltered. "What’s wrong?"

For a long moment, Selene said nothing. She just watched them—her friends, the ones who had risked so much already. Her chest tightened with hesitation. But then, she knew these were the people she was willing to trust.

So without hiding anything, she told them everything that happened that day.

The room grew still. Aswin set the basket down with a quiet thud. Rael crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue. Sara moved closer, pulling out a chair beside her.

"What is it?" Sara asked softly.

Selene’s hands clenched together. "There’s a witch," she said, her voice low. "A witch who has been helping the werewolves in secret."

The words struck the air like a blade.

Aswin’s jaw tightened. Rael straightened, his eyes narrowing. Even Sara looked stunned, as though the ground beneath her had tilted.

"What?" Sara breathed. "That can’t be—"

"It’s true," Selene cut in, her voice trembling but firm. "Think about it. How else could the werewolves have gained the knowledge they have? How else could they have easily chained all those witches recently?"

"And most importantly I am the living proof because they have used enchanted cuffs on me."

"That’s how they captured me. Those cuffs... they bound even my power. I couldn’t summon even a small magic."

gasp slipped from Sara. Her

face darkened, his voice hard. "That’s impossible. Pure-blood witches can’t be bound

the one who crafted them was far stronger than we

you understand what this means? To forge cuffs like that—cuffs that can suppress even a pure-blood’s power—it would take

fell again over

would one of our own... betray us

her head. "I don’t know. Power? Greed? Fear? I don’t have the answer. But what I do know is this: as long as that witch remains hidden, we’ll never be free. The werewolves will always have the upper

almost burning with rage. "If I find that witch,

be angry. Because his sister had actually been caught

His rage was justified.

won’t reveal herself. If we speak too soon and spread the words that we suspect someone has actually betrayed us, she’ll vanish

out, gripping Selene’s hand tightly. Her eyes were wide

than any of us have dared. I need to watch them and find their secret. This is

her when she came

trembled but did not loosen. Aswin exchanged a tense glance with Rael. None of them spoke for a long moment, but the weight of her declaration sank

was quiet, but there was steel in it. "If you do this... you won’t

lean on them. But deep down, she knew this path was extremely dangerous and she did not plan to take them with

family waiting for them. She couldn’t allow any risk to fall on them. On the other side, she had no one waiting

steady voice. "I’ll find her. No matter

was out there. And Selene would not rest until she brought

hides so well... if she could even create something like those cuffs...

turned

her gaze lowering to the table. "I’ve thought about it," she said, her voice soft but firm. "There’s only one

her head. Her eyes were calm now, steady with

know what has to be done." And after that,

his feet. His chair

his jaw tightening. "He’s right. We can’t

down. She stayed where she was, her hands

the only way," she

words cut through their protests, soft but

I’ve lived among them, I know their habits, their ways. I know how they move, how they speak, how

Her hand reached for Selene’s, gripping

grim. The tension in the room pressed like a storm