The Witch and her Alpha

I was going to die.

Not the kind of death that swiftly carried you into sweet oblivion, calm as a wave or soft as fresh snow.

Not the kind you saw on TV, where an old woman shed a single tear while her loved ones held her hand. The room was sorrowful, yet somehow still filled with love.

No.

This death was cruel, slithering, and venomous, like a vicious snake. The kind that made you wish you'd never existed.

The kind of death you'd only wish upon the most wicked of people.

And the worst part?

I had no idea why this was happening to me.

Just a few hours ago, I'd been tucked in bed watching a N*****x series with my cat curled up on my lap.

Now I was tied to a wooden stake while a crowd jeered and cursed at me.

“Die, you filthy witch!”

“How dare you curse our Luna!”

What in the actual fuck was going on?

My panicked gaze snapped toward the man standing before me.

My heart thudded wildly in my ears.

This had to be a nightmare.

One of those ridiculously vivid dreams people talked about. The kind where you could fly through endless worlds and wake up wondering what the hell you'd just experienced.

Yeah.

That was what was happening.

I would wake up soon. Any second, my alarm would go off, and I'd go back to work.

I swallowed hard as the man raised a torch.

He stood tall, golden eyes blazing beneath blond hair as he slowly lowered the flame toward the wood.

Any second now... I waited and waited, but to my dismay nothing changed, except for the man's hand gripping the torch, which inched closer and closer.

“Catherine Wells, for the crime of poisoning the Luna, you will die a painful death.”

“I don't even know what you're talking about!” I shouted.

“Quiet, you filthy liar!” he growled.

“Please,” I whimpered.

His eyes burned with fury.

“The Luna has died because of your wicked ways. Now you will face the consequences.”

Then he dropped the torch.

I braced myself, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood.

Wake up, Rose.

Wake up.

Wake the fuck up!

The fire crackled against the wood, spreading rapidly until it reached my feet.

Then I screamed.

I screamed until my lungs burned as the flames licked at my flesh, consuming me whole.

The pain was agonizing. Excruciating. Nothing I'd ever felt in my life could compare to the sensation of being burned alive.

I screamed and screamed until I couldn't even hear myself anymore.

The last thing I saw were those golden eyes watching me coldly.

Watching me suffer.

Like my suffering was his right.

Then everything went black.

Several moments later, my eyes fluttered open.

A scream tore from my throat as I jolted upright.

I touched my face, then stared down at my trembling hands.

A dream.

It had been a dream.

I sucked in ragged breaths, too focused on calming myself to notice anything strange.

Then I froze.

My hands.

I slowly turned them over, staring at the unfamiliar fingers.

No.

My head snapped up as I frantically scanned the room.

“God. Buddha. Zeus. Whoever the hell is listening…”

Please don't let this be real.

This wasn't my bedroom.

The familiar gray walls were gone. So were my paintings, my furniture, and the pile of clothes I'd abandoned on the floor.

Instead, rough wooden walls surrounded me. A worn rug that looked suspiciously like animal skin covered the floor, while a small lamp flickered in the corner.

My eyes locked onto the flame.

Fire.

Golden eyes.

The screaming crowd.

It all came rushing back.

I scrambled out of bed so quickly I nearly tripped over my own feet.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Where was I?

Who were those people?

And why had they called me a witch?

I racked my brain for an answer, but nothing came.

Then—

“Sis?”

A knock sounded against the wooden door.

I jumped and backed into the wall.

The door creaked open.

A young girl, no older than twelve, stepped inside.

Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Catherine, are you okay?” she asked. “I heard you screaming.”

I stared at her.

She was small, with black hair tied into two short pigtails and blue eyes. Her dress had clearly seen better days, and her worn leather shoes looked like they were barely holding together.

“I—uh…” I scrambled for an answer. “I just stubbed my toe. Nothing to worry about.”

She gave me a once-over, clearly unconvinced.

Then her expression softened.

“Sis, if you don't want to go in my place, I understand. Truly.”

I stared at her, completely lost.

“The Ravers are a vicious pack. They're ruthless beasts. I don't want you to do something you don't want to do.”

Ravers?

Pack?

Beasts?

None of those words made sense.

“Don't worry about it, uh…” I hesitated. “Sis.”

The word felt bizarre coming out of my mouth.

I glanced around the strange room.

“If I may ask… what year is it? And what day?”

The girl's brow furrowed.

“You sure you're okay?”

“Yes.” I lowered my voice. “Just answer my question. Please.”

She stared at me for a moment before sighing.

“It's the fifth Blue Moon…”

She hesitated.

“…of the 742nd year of the Lyrian Age.”

The world seemed to slow around me as I took in her words.

At that precise moment, I knew with absolute certainty.

That I was no longer in the world I had always known.