CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The council members were waiting when I stepped out. I hated it. I hated the sympathy in their eyes. Of course, they had heard. They heard the lash whip and my desperate cries but did nothing to help. Useless.

“Phoebe,” Uncle Al stepped forward.

My throat closed in grief, I could not breathe. I shook my head and took a step back. Even if he checked, they would be no scars because Father had healed them himself. Besides, it was not the first time he had done something like this. It was the first time any of them bear witness to it.

When I turned to leave, I spotted Morgan and his sister, Ace watching me with horrified expression. I tucked my sorrow away and smiled.

“Come on. You need to make me breakfast.” I grabbed on to Morgan’s arm and pulled him with me.

Every step felt like a punch to my gut. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes. The condensing stares of other witches did not help either. Every word was contempt and every look, hate. I was positive I was going to break down