Cursed to Three Alphas

3.

Chapter Three

Aria’s POV

My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the gasps and murmurs of the market crowd. My hand was still raised, tingling from the contact with his skin.

I had just slapped the Alpha.

Darius stared at me, his face contorted in a mixture of shock and fury. His left hand was pressed to his cheek, where an angry red mark was already forming. The air seemed to still around us, the once-bustling market now dead silent.

“You slapped me.” His voice was low, dangerous.

I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement, but I didn’t dare answer. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, but my legs were frozen, rooted to the spot as his dark eyes bore into mine.

The crowd erupted into whispers, the tension thick and suffocating.

Darius’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, and I knew he wasn’t going to let this go. “You all saw that, didn’t you?” he called out, addressing the onlookers. “The red witch dares strike her Alpha!”

I blinked, confusion washing over me like ice water. “What?”

“The witch!” he bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at me. “She’s the one who cursed our lands, the one responsible for the barren fields and sick livestock! She confessed her evil and attacked me when I confronted her!”

The murmur of the crowd grew louder, and panic surged in my chest. I shook my head violently. “No! That’s not true! I’m not a witch!”

But my words fell on deaf ears. The crowd had already started to shift, their fear and frustration morphing into anger.

Two of Darius’s guards stepped forward, their faces grim. Before I could react, they seized me by the arms, their grip bruising.

“Let go of me!” I screamed, thrashing against their hold. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Take her!” Darius barked. “Let everyone see the price of betrayal!”

The guards dragged me to the ground, the rough dirt scraping against my knees. My heart pounded as I struggled, but their strength was overwhelming. The crowd surged closer, their eyes filled with contempt and suspicion.

“Please!” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “I’m not a witch! You have to believe me!”

But no one stepped forward. Not even Celeste.

The guards worked quickly, binding my hands and feet with thick ropes. The coarse fibers bit into my skin, cutting off my circulation. I struggled harder, but it was no use.

“Strip her,” Darius ordered coldly.

My stomach dropped. “No! No, please!”

The guards ignored my pleas, their hands tearing at my gown. I fought with everything I had left, kicking and screaming, but it wasn’t enough. In seconds, I was left standing in the middle of the marketplace, completely exposed.

Shame burned hotter than the sun overhead.

The crowd jeered, their voices blending into a deafening roar.

“She cursed our pack!” someone yelled.

“She deserves it!” another added.

Rotten fruits and vegetables flew through the air, hitting my skin with wet thuds. Women spat at me, their eyes filled with disgust, while the men shouted obscenities. Even the children joined in, their laughter cruel and shrill.

I couldn’t stop crying. I felt small, broken, powerless.

The guards paraded me through the market, dragging me past every stall and shop. The humiliation was unbearable, but the worst part was the looks on their faces—the people I had lived among my entire life. Not a single one of them defended me.

By the time they brought me back to the center of the market, I was trembling so hard I could barely stand. The crowd had worked themselves into a frenzy, their chants of “Punish the witch!” echoing in my ears.

Darius stepped forward, his presence commanding silence once more. His smile was triumphant, like a predator savoring its kill.

“You’ve all seen her treachery with your own eyes,” he declared, his voice carrying over the crowd. “She will pay for her crimes!”

“No!” I screamed, my voice raw. “This is a lie! I’m not a witch!”

Darius ignored me, turning to the guards. “Prepare the pyre. Tonight, we’ll cleanse the pack of her evil.”

My heart stopped.

They were going to burn me alive.

The crowd cheered, their bloodlust tangible. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground. The guards hauled me back to my feet, but I was too weak to fight anymore.

I scanned the faces in the crowd, desperate for someone—anyone—to help me. But all I saw was hatred.

Except…

At the edge of the square, partially hidden in the shadows, two figures stood watching.

They weren’t cheering.

Their eyes met mine, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. One of them was tall, with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. His dark hair was tousled, and his piercing blue eyes held a mixture of anger and something else—something softer.

The other was leaner, his golden hair catching the fading sunlight. His green eyes were sharp, calculating, and entirely focused on me.

I didn’t know who they were, but something about them felt… different.

And then they were gone, disappearing into the crowd like ghosts.

The guards started dragging me toward the Pack Hall, but my mind was racing. Who were they? And why did it feel like they might be my only chance at survival?

As the heavy doors of the Pack Hall slammed shut behind me, sealing my fate, a single thought kept echoing in my mind:

Who were those men? And could they save me before it was too late?