His Witchy Mate

Lucian’s POV:

I observed from a distance as Alicia was paraded around the market, enduring the barrage of objects hurled at her. She attempted to shield herself from the onslaught, but it was clear that she was in considerable pain.

“You didn’t tell me that you were coming here. You should have tagged me along,” Elara’s voice sounded behind me. I turned to see her standing there, her expression unreadable. It unsettled me that she was witnessing this.Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

“I didn’t know that you would be interested in watching something like this,” I replied, not wanting to reveal my true intentions. The last thing I wanted was for Elara to suspect that I was secretly observing Alicia’s punishment.

However, her response indicated otherwise. She seemed to know more than she let on. Picking up a stone from the ground, she approached Alicia with a determined look on her face.

“What do you want to do with that? What are you trying to do?” I questioned, feeling a sense of unease at her actions.

“You should watch and see for yourself,” she replied cryptically before hurling the stone at Alicia, striking her exposed head. I flinched at the impact, a surge of guilt and helplessness washing over me. Despite my instincts urging me to intervene, I remained frozen, unable to stop Elara’s cruel act.

I watched in silent agony as Alicia bore the brunt of the stones thrown at her, blood trickling down her face. The chaotic scene came to a halt momentarily as Alicia raised her head, her gaze scanning the crowd, searching for the perpetrator of the cruel act.

Despite the turmoil churning within me, I maintained a stoic facade, unwilling to betray any emotion. I knew Alicia might misconstrue my silence, perhaps believing I had condoned the violence against her.

Tears welled in her eyes as Elara waved at her mockingly, inciting further aggression from the crowd. Unable to bear witnessing her suffering any longer, I turned away, Elara trailing behind me.

“What do you think you’re trying to do, huh?” I demanded, pausing in my stride to confront Elara.

“What? I only threw a stone at her. Are you angry at me for doing so? Didn’t you suggest we could punish her however we saw fit? Or are you still in love with her, unable to bear seeing her in pain?” Elara retorted, her words laced with accusation.

My scoff was bitter. “There’s no love left for her. You know she could die from such an attack. Any punishment is permissible as long as it doesn’t end in death.”

Elara nodded in understanding before returning to the market, attempting to mitigate the violence. Meanwhile, I received word from David about Alicia’s worsening condition.

“She’s bleeding severely from her head,” he informed me. With still thirty minutes remaining until her release, I retreated to the palace, seeking solace from the turmoil of my emotions.

Alicia’s POV:

As the stones rained down on me in the marketplace, each impact sending waves of pain through my body, I couldn’t help but seethe with fury and despair. The crowd’s jeers and taunts mingled with the sharp stings of each stone striking my skin, and I felt a deep, burning hatred welling up within me.

In that moment, all I could think about was revenge. Once I regained my freedom, once I reclaimed my powers, I vowed to unleash hell upon those who had orchestrated my suffering. The werewolves who had framed me, who had subjected me to this torment, would pay dearly for their cruelty.

The forbidden spell whispered among witches, rumored to grant unimaginable power at a grave cost, suddenly seemed like a viable option to me. Despite the dire consequences said to accompany its use, I was willing to endure any affliction if it meant exacting justice upon my oppressors.

My heart ached at the thought of my fellow witches enduring similar anguish. I couldn’t bear to see them suffer any longer, and I swore to do whatever it took to end their pain and restore our rightful place in the world.

With each passing moment, I counted down the minutes until my release from this nightmare. The punishment had run its course, but my determination to seek retribution burned brighter than ever before. As I awaited my return to the palace, I steeled myself for the battles that lay ahead, resolved to emerge victorious and reclaim what was rightfully ours.

As the stones pelted me mercilessly, each blow sending shockwaves of pain through my body, I felt a profound sense of helplessness wash over me. The crowd’s taunts and jeers echoed in my ears, mingling with the agonizing thud of each stone striking my skin. Blood trickled down my face from the wounds inflicted upon me, blurring my vision and staining my cheeks with crimson tears.

Amidst the onslaught, I lifted my head defiantly, searching for the source of this latest assault. My gaze locked onto Lucian, his expression carefully neutral, yet betraying no hint of remorse or sympathy. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had orchestrated this cruelty, if he had reveled in my suffering from the shadows.

Tears streamed down my cheeks unabated, a testament to the overwhelming anguish that consumed me. Even as Elara waved mockingly from the crowd, inciting further violence against me, I struggled to comprehend the depths of their malice. How could they revel in my pain so callously, revel in the spectacle of my torment?

As the barrage continued unabated, I felt a surge of despair threatening to engulf me. I longed for respite, for escape from this unrelenting nightmare. Yet, even as I yearned for release, a steely determination took root within me. I would not allow myself to be broken by their cruelty. I would endure, I would survive, and I would rise again.

Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against me, I clung to the flickering ember of hope within my heart. With each passing moment, as my strength waned and my resolve was tested, I vowed to emerge from this crucible stronger than ever before. And though darkness threatened to consume me, I refused to surrender to its depths.