The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 192: Chapter 192: Truth about Witch Mother

Serena’s POV

After Vaelen left, I sat down again on the bed. The room was quiet. Only the sound of the wind touching the window.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my thoughts. I told myself not to think too much now. Not about him. Not about them.

I had chosen this path myself. I would walk it till the end. No matter how hard it became.

The brothers... I pushed them into a corner of my mind. I’d think about them later. When I was ready. For now, I had work to do.

I pulled out a small notebook from under my pillow. It was simple, with pages filled with scribbles and glued notes. I opened it and started pasting the new papers I had collected over the past few days.

On every page, there were names. Words. Symbols only I could understand.

In the center, written darker than all others, was one name... Elarliya.

My so-called fake mother.

My hand stopped for a moment when I looked at that name. My chest felt tight again, but I didn’t let it stop me.

A week ago, I finally found out the truth.

We had been attacked from all sides. Everything was going fine before that... too fine, maybe. Then suddenly, chaos. And in the middle of it, I saw the sign. The same energy, the same power signature I once knew too well.

It was her.

The witch helping the werewolves was the witch mother.

For a long time, I couldn’t even believe it. My heart refused. The woman who had raised me, taught me, lied to me, abandoned me... was the same one behind all of this.

The pain turned to anger that night. The kind that burns quietly, steady, deep.

I gripped my pen tighter as the memory came back. The smell of fire. The screams. The blood.

I had been badly injured. I remember falling, the world turning black. And when I woke up later, she was there. Smiling at me like nothing had happened. Pretending to care.

And I fell for her trick... once again.

For days, she was feeding me lies that I was her daughter, even going as far as to change my appearance... my existence.

So I could perfectly fit in her pathetic story. And I did, without even realizing it. She had completely manipulated my mind and my memories. All I remembered was only her and no one else.

I was weak then. I believed her. I almost did.

But she forgot one thing.

if you are the most

body was broken, my soul remembered what she had done. And slowly, my memories

could see her lies falling apart, one by

almost had me," I whispered,

dates, places, spells, faces, everything I could recall. I wouldn’t let her twist my mind

wrote until my fingers cramped. Until my hand started shaking.

one who pulled me out from the ruins

mindless wolves, I saw flashes... of battles, magic, symbols from the old spellbooks I’d trained with. Pieces

Those memories saved me.

had messed with my

again, I told myself. Never again will I

small mark... a spiral inside a circle. A

whispered, closing the book,

a long time, staring at the closed notebook on my lap. The silence was heavy, but it didn’t

long while,

the alphas or werewolves.

flame flickering softly against the wall. I leaned back, my

I couldn’t

to go after her myself. But to do that,

thought about it, the more one thing

That woman was obsessed.

Not with me.

But with him.

My father.

still didn’t know if he was really my father or not. His voice had been calm, low, and distant... the kind that carried power but no

I asked him questions, he avoided them. When I asked what his past was, he

told me more than

kind of relationship did he have with

make

she loved, then how could she raise me? How could she smile at me every morning, touch my hair, tell me stories, and pretend to love

the memory of her gentle smile came back, the way she used to hum old songs

ached at the thought. It had felt

it all fake?" I whispered, my

to use a child like that, to pretend to be a mother, just

kind of love

hardened. "Love?" I muttered. "No.

still something that

My real mother.

Sameera.

my chest tighten. And yet, in all of father’s

Elara.

of my so-called

Not Sameera.