Content Warning:
This chapter contains scenes of violence and killing. Reader discretion is advised.
...
RAVYN'S POV
"I'm off duty," he murmured, his voice trying too hard to sound casual. "And I'm so glad I decided to play around tonight... because if I hadn't, I'd have never met a beauty like you."
I let out a low, breathy laugh, letting it dance between us. My hand crept higher along his ribs, nails just sharp enough to graze. "Then you must know about the recent disappearance of witches, nowadays."
It was like a match was struck in the stillness.
His whole body froze beneath me.
His jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed, and his smile wavered just a fraction.
But I saw it.
And I felt it.
Across the clearing, where my sisters were still giggling and draping themselves over the other men, I saw the same shift. The men stiffened. Laughter died mid-chuckle. Hands paused where they shouldn't have. Eyes narrowed, darting sideways.
My coven sisters noticed it too. One by one, they began to rise from the laps of their prey, slowly, fluidly, still playing their part—still laughing, still teasing—but their energy changed. Subtle. Dangerous.
They began to circle them.
A dance we'd rehearsed a hundred times.
They didn't know yet.
But they were already caged.
"Or at least," I added, my voice sickeningly sweet as I tilted my head, "you must have heard of it."
His throat worked around another swallow, this time slower. Not desire. Fear.
I felt his cock soften beneath me.
Perfect.
I could feel the others tightening the noose—soft hands caressing shoulders, giggles brushing against ears. But now it wasn't for pleasure. It was distraction. A performance before the storm.
The man beneath me let out a slow breath, like he was trying to steady himself. "Why...why would you ask something like that, hmm?" His voice faltered slightly, his hand gripping my thigh a little too tightly. "That's dangerous talk, pretty thing. Especially in these parts."
"Is it?" I asked, voice dropping into a lower octave, still playful, still smiling, but laced with something far more dangerous. "Because I think it's the only talk worth having lately."
He flinched.
Gods, he knew something.
They all did.
And whatever it was, it scared them more than my teeth ever could.
The man stiffened beneath me.
"Don't be so scared," I said, voice sweet like sugared poison, my fingers tracing the side of his jaw. "I'm just curious."
But the words only fed his fear. He gave a weak chuckle, trying to regain his footing in the conversation. "Curiosity is dangerous in times like these, Beauty. Especially for a woman like you."
I tilted my head, blinking slowly. "A woman like me?"
He shifted uncomfortably, trying to play it off. "You know… too pretty to be thinking about missing witches. Shouldn't you be worried about something softer?"
I didn't answer. Just kept smiling.
His hands slid off my waist slightly, his instincts screaming. "Let's not talk about that, hmm?" he murmured, brushing his lips near my cheek.
"I insist," I said softly, pressing my palm against his chest. His heart pounded too fast for a man trying to act unbothered.
He frowned. "Don't cross the line, girl."
And just like that, my smile vanished.
I stood up from his lap, slowly, deliberately, like a blade being unsheathed. His hands dropped away, and his gaze locked onto mine—just in time to catch the brief flicker of power in my irises. A shimmer of silver-green seeped into the pale blue, swirling like mist in moonlight.
His pupils shrank.
"They're all witches," he breathed, voice cracking with horror.
His words rang out like a dropped glass, shattering the false warmth in the air. Around us, my coven sisters stilled.
And then, slowly, they began to rise.
I giggled. Loud, bright, mocking. One of the men—red-haired, muscular—tried to stand. His legs buckled.
Then another. He gripped the nearest tree trunk, panic flickering in his eyes as his muscles refused to move.
"What… what the hell did you do to us?" the man beneath me whispered, frozen in place.
I leaned over him, grinning. "You wanted to be beneath me, didn't you? Well, now you are. What's the struggle about?"
He growled, trying to lurch up, but his spine wouldn't obey him. His eyes darted around, wild. "This is treachery," he snarled. "You're monsters."
"Oh please," I snapped, standing fully upright, arms crossed. "You really want to talk morality? After what your kind did to my family? My mother's still missing, you sick bastard."
He sneered. "Maybe she deserved it."
That was the wrong thing to say.
My fingers twitched. My smile dissolved into stillness.
Then I raised one hand and tapped gently on my thigh—once, twice, thrice.
The signal.
Around us, the atmosphere shifted. A soft hum stirred in the air, like invisible tension stretching tighter and tighter. The forest around us fell eerily silent—no rustling leaves, no chirping insects, just stillness, like the woods themselves were holding their breath.
Then—
One of the guards jerked upward, feet no longer touching the ground. His body trembled mid-air like a puppet suspended by unseen strings.
"Wait—what the hell—!" he shrieked before his mouth vanished. Melted. Sewn shut by invisible thread.
Another levitated, eyes wide as saucers. Blood burst from his ears as Circe's magic unraveled him, first snapping his fingers back, then twisting them off one by one. His scream never came—his voice stolen too fast.
All around me, my coven sisters moved like dancers on a stage. No theatrics. No messy rage. Just clinical, coordinated power.
Limbs were torn as if they were no more than wet cloth.
Spines snapped like brittle branches.
One man exploded from the inside out—his chest cavity folding outward like flower petals as Lilith whispered a word in his ear.
Another began to sob—broken, terrified—before his heart caved in mid-beat. Blood burst from his chest in a hot spray, arching through the moonlit branches like a twisted, crimson ribbon before splattering across the leaves.
I stood in the center, untouched, watching. The man who'd dared call me "girl" still pinned below me, trembling as his comrades were eviscerated before his eyes.
He tried again to move—failed.
I looked down at him and chuckled. "Still trying?"
His eyes were wet now. Pitiful. He stared at the last man alive—a fellow soldier, maybe even lower—being flayed by invisible claws, chunks of his flesh peeling away in slow, slicing curls.
The final scream echoed through the forest.
Then silence.
My sisters stood still, breathing hard but proud. The scent of iron and magic coated the air. The ground was soaked with red.
I approached him.
He whimpered, crawling backward on shaking arms. "Please… please…"
I knelt beside him. "Just tell me where they are," I murmured, brushing the blood-splattered hair from his face.
His lower lip quivered. "I—I don't know where exactly they took them. We're not told. Only the inner court… the witches who serve directly under the Crescent Alphas. They… they should know."
He swallowed. "If you want to find them, you have to get into the castle. Into the court. Pretend to be one of them. That's the only way."
I studied his face. He was telling the truth. I could see it in the fear staining his soul.
Which made him useless.
I stood.
"No—no, wait. You said—" He reached for me. "You promised!"
I rolled my eyes. "Oh please. You'd have done the same. Why do you all cry when we reciprocate?"
I raised my hand.
A dark sigil flared to life on my palm.
His body convulsed, then twisted inward violently, bones cracking and crumbling like dry leaves. With a final scream that was more gurgle than cry, he collapsed, still twitching, his mouth stuck open in permanent, silent horror.
I exhaled slowly.
Then peeled off my glove.
My bracelet gleamed silver under the moonlight filtering in through the broken ceiling. I held out my hand—and his soul's core tore free of his chest and floated into my palm. It pulsed, pale and dull.
"Too dull," I muttered, unimpressed, before letting the charm settle onto the bracelet chain with the others.
Four charms now. Just four.
But we were just getting started.
"So, Ravyn," came a familiar voice behind me, light and curious, "what do we do now?"
I didn't turn.
"We should head to the lake," I said, fastening my glove again. "It's still a full moon. I know how much those spells took out of you all."
Circe appeared beside me, her lips quirking in a half-smile. "That applies to you too."
"Mmm." I nodded, lying smoothly. "Of course."
She knew I didn't need to recharge. None of them knew why I didn't. Not even Circe. I'd never told anyone what was buried in my blood, not even the coven that raised me.
The others—giddy from their kills, whispering and laughing like girls returning from a festival—began heading deeper into the forest, following the narrow path that led to the moonlit lake.
I watched them go, the rustle of their skirts blending with the distant hoot of an owl.
I loved seeing them like this. Free. Wild. Happy.
It made me happy too.