The Worthless Omega's Rise

Chapter 3: Silver haired witch

Harlow’s POV

I couldn't move

Couldn't speak

All I kept thinking of were my mother's last words. I'd been dragged away to a completely different pack, a Lycan kingdom, but now, I was about to get burnt on a stake. My legs were tightly tied to a pole and my hands were placed above my head. A tear slipped down my cheeks, as a warrior poured some liquid on my body, soaking me in it. I'd pleaded with them, showed them signs I wasn't a witch, showed them the slave scar on me, but they claimed I masked my scent with a werewolf’s.

Witches have always been hated, always been despised, they've always been killed or burnt on the spot just because they were vile creatures. A young lady took slow strides towards me. Judging from her appearance, I could tell she was a pack member, a Lycan as well, “You are a pretty girl, but I'm so glad I'm witnessing your death on the stake. Creatures like you shouldn't be given a second chance to live.” Her words stung my heart and I sucked in a breath, “I am not a witch.”

“You have silver hair. Does that make any sense? It's rumored that the coven leader of witches has silver hair as well. If we kill the coven leader, then all other witches are doomed.”

At the sound of her voice, all other people cheered, splashing some water on my face. Others made sure my face was bruised, slamming rotten tomatoes and objects on it. I flipped my attention to the sides, protecting my face from the gruesome act, but they chose not to stop.

“We should stone her to death! Her cries should fill this place.”

Perhaps dying might be the best option right now.

Destiny? To hell with it.

“Let everyone stop now.” The same pack warrior stepped forward, lighting up a touch, “it's time for the ceremony. I'm going to light this stake and make sure she's burnt to death.”

Loud cheers filled the space and I struggled against the rope, terrified to death. They could have just shot me with an arrow, worse—poison me. It was all better than this slow and painful death. While the pack warrior stepped closer, I closed my eyes, facing my head towards the heavens, “mother, I'm coming to see you now.”

“She's chanting a spell! Quick, lit the stake!”

My heart raced

Hairs rising on the nape of my neck.

This was it.

I closed my eyes tightly, preparing for the worst scenario possible, but a loud, baritone voice made my eyes fly open. “Stop the ceremony!” It sounded rushed, and I swallowed hard, watching as the most magnificent man made his way towards me. His hazel eyes sucked me in effortlessly, seizing my breath as I couldn't look away. His strides were slow, controlled, commanding, his gaze alone intimidated me so hard that my chest caved in, fear settling. His scent wafted into my nostrils, making my legs quiver.

The pack members gave way, moving aside for the young man. He had an air of superiority around him, one that made people bow, shrink in fear. Effortlessly, he overshadowed each of them who stood there. He then landed his gaze on me, his hazel eyes scrutinizing my appearance.

It was the same way Alpha Kelvin had stared at me, but there was no hate in them. He stared at me with awe, disbelief. He raised his hands and pointed at me, “this lady here is my mate.” He confirmed my thoughts, and flipped his attention to the men, “get her down from the stake. Now.”

Without hesitation, the ropes around my legs and hands were loosened and I was guided towards the young man. I swallowed hard, awaiting my gruesome fate again, but he wrapped his robe around me, his eyes filled with warmth, “why didn't you tell them you weren't a witch.”

My eyes stinged. He believed me. Someone believed me. I nodded slowly, clutching the thick robe around my shoulders, “they didn't believe me.”

“It's okay.” He said calmly, “I'll treat your wounds.”

At the same time, a pack warrior ran towards us, “Lycan king Devon, she…she can't be trusted. She might have made some enchantment on you to make you feel that way.” He said, glaring hard at me, disgust written all over his face. So my mate was a Lycan king, and his name was Devon? He slowly faced me, “What should we do to him?”

The pack warrior's eyes widened in terror, “I…I take back my words.” He stuttered, squabbling away with a tail in between his legs. He chuckled softly, his eyes filled with amusement, “don’t you think you should have dyed your hair?”

Devon guided me into the pack house, helping me climb up the stairs, “If you did, your life would have been spared now.”

I swallowed hard, clutching his hands, “I haven't been privileged to do so, but even if I was, I would never hide something given to me.”

Devon pushed a large door open, and my eyes came in contact with a whole new world. Judging from the stillness of the whole atmosphere, It was almost midnight, but this room was bright enough to be called day. He guided me towards a vacant bed and sat me down, “how did you get here? In the woods where my men captured you?”

I shook my head, blinking back my tears, “I…escaped from prison.”

The atmosphere changed immediately, his glassy eyes locking on me, “you wear the mark of a slave, but you were impris—”

“Lycan king Devon” A pack warrior yelled, taking slow strides inside, “your betrothed, Lady Stephanie is here.” my heart skipped a beat.

He was claimed too?