Fated and Claimed by Four Alphas

**************

~Spring's POV~

I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or as a sign that my brother had just created another target for me.

I returned to my room, and after an hour or more, I heard the sounds of footsteps, and a moment later, the front door clicked shut.

I exhaled quietly, slipping back down the stairs.

Rhys stood at the kitchen counter, his hands braced on the granite, staring down into a half-made cup of coffee. His jaw was tight, but when I walked in, he didn't move.

"That was… messy," I said gently.

He snorted. "Understatement."

"I didn't mean to—"

He turned to face me, expression softening. "You didn't do anything wrong."

I nodded slowly. "I think she hates me."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She doesn't know you. She only saw what I let her see."

"Which was?"

He shrugged. "That you're close to me. And that I don't let people near me unless they matter."

That was a lot; my chest still tightened.

Rhys offered a sheepish grin. "Sorry for dragging you into that. I was also testing out something."

"Did you plan that beforehand or just at the moment?"

"What do you think?"

I leaned on the counter beside him, bumping his shoulder. "Next time, give a girl a heads-up before using her as a jealousy prop, whether impromptu or not."

He chuckled. "Deal. I guess it would be better if we start making gestures or talking with our eyes."

I laughed freely this time. "Deal."

And just like that, the crisis passed, but I knew, deep down, this was just the start of Rhys's personal life spilling into mine.

And I wasn't sure River would walk away so quietly next time.

****************

~Author's POV~

"The Dark Witch is here…"

The whisper fell like a needle in a glass room.

A young maid, barely sixteen, gasped as she peeked past the velvet curtains toward the estate's long driveway.

Then she turned and bolted inside, the silver tray she carried clattering to the floor in her wake.

Immediately, the mansion stirred.

Like a single breath held across every hall and corridor, tension rippled through the palace. In the east wing, servants stopped mid-step. Conversations died. Every eye turned to the grand windows just to take a peek.

Outside, a sleek black car, its glass tinted to a shadowed obsidian, rolled to a stop beneath the arched carport. The driver stepped out and hurried to the passenger's door, opening it for her.

A single pointed heel touched the driveway first. Then the witch rose.

She wore a form-fitting oxblood gown that hugged her curves like silk painted on skin. The fabric shimmered faintly under the sun, and her skin—pale and unmarked—almost glowed.

Her makeup was dark and flawless, lips painted blood-red, eyes sculpted in deep black shadow. Long oxblood nails matched her dress, and her hair was as white as snow, spilt down her back in a sharp contrast against the gown.

The guards didn't speak, nor did they move.

They'd been warned, and even if you weren't told, one knew better than to do something stupid against the dark witch, Nxy Vermillion.

She looked up at the mansion with a crooked smile, as if amused by its extravagance but her eyes narrowed in a way that held secrets.

And then, without a word, she turned away from the front entrance and glided toward the stone-paved sidewalk that curved along the gardens, toward the back of the estate.

Immediately, murmurs followed like fog amongst the servants.

"She went around the house."

"Why didn't she use the front? Is she trying to hex us?"

"Does she know the back is forbidden to outsiders?"

"Shh! Are you crazy? Don't question her."

Inside, Concubine Jade's head lady-in-waiting—Mistress Dame Marcella—was already waiting in the lower hall, her grey hair pulled tight, her heels echoing on marble as she moved with rare urgency.

She paused just as the rear door opened.

The witch stepped in without permission, the scent of spice and magic following in her wake like a storm cloud.

"Lady Jade is expecting you," Marcella said, bowing her head low. Her voice was crisp with strained composure.

The witch didn't speak. Only inclined her chin once.

Taking that as a cue, Lady Dame Marcella turned, leading her into the palace as they walked in silence through the back hall, up the private staircase past the closed wings of the eastern quarters where no one dared whisper now.

Servants turned their backs. A butler stepped aside and didn't lift his gaze. The walls seemed to breathe with held fear.

At the top of the stairs, Mistress Dame Marcella opened the carved double doors of the concubine's wing and motioned the witch inside.

"Concubine Jade awaits within," she said quietly. "She has cleared the wing for your arrival."

Nyx nodded without uttering a word more.

She was neither young nor old, but rumour had it that she had lived for a few hundred years.

Around her neck hung an amulet made of bone and phoenix feather, tied with crimson string, but as ancient as it seemed, something about its austere appearance made it more alluring.

She didn't bow.

The room was still, with velvet curtains drawn, and golden lamplight casting sharp shadows against the ivory walls. The air smelled of incense, rose, and sandalwood. Something magical.

Serissa stood stiffly in front of the witch, her spine straight, her fists clenched at her sides. Her breathing was controlled, but her jaw worked as if she were chewing back something dark.

"You requested me, Concubine Jade," the witch said in a voice that was soft but carried like thunder through the room.

Jade rose slowly, gesturing for the servants to leave. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I believe you've been informed of the matter?"

The witch's gaze drifted to Serissa. "The one who messed up a curse?"

"I…"

"Speak, child," Nyx ordered calmly with the raise of a brow.

Serissa inhaled. "It's not dormant anymore," Serissa said tightly. "Whatever this is—it's moving. Pulling at me. It's like it wants to rip something out of me."

The witch stepped forward, heels silent on the carpet, her snow-white hair brushing her waist. Her eyes were impossibly pale, and they glimmered now, reflecting a strange amusement.

"Ah," she whispered, circling the girl. "So the seed has bloomed."