WITCHE'S BEAST *(needs editing )

Chapter24

Aaron

Night fell on us faster than expected, and waiting for Rodger felt pointless. Something in my gut told me he might not show. Eve was slipping deeper into that new magic. She wasn't herself anymore-short-tempered, restless, her moods sharp as knives. I hated it. I wanted it out of her.

Sometimes she spoke in a strange, ancient tongue in her sleep, and every time she did, I felt my wolf tense. The thought of her suffering the child-bearing curse if she killed Rodger with Kalidah's magic... it was tearing me apart. I wanted pups with her-our pups. Losing that future was unthinkable.

We made love every night, and her body responded to mine in a way that made it painfully clear she was ready to carry. But if she killed him... everything would change. Lyra had promised to help keep Eve from delivering the killing blow, and I appreciated it. This was going to be a long, cursed night. I needed all of this over so we could go back home. This place had given us memories, but it was not home.

"Are you okay, brother?" Eric asked when he noticed my silence.

"I'm good. Just feels like he's not coming." Maybe Rodger was a coward after all.

"He'll come," Daniel said. "This is personal. Everlina took what he wanted most-the book."

He was right. If Rodger wanted Kalidah's magic, he would have to come and get it. And when he did, I would be ready. After everything he did to my mate, he deserved death. The only reason he'd survive was because we weren't allowed to kill him.

"Yeah," I muttered, agreeing with both of them.

Then we heard it-a scream from inside the house. All three of us ran.

Eve had Clara pinned to the floor without even touching her. Clara's skin was turning pale, her lips blue, her heartbeat barely there as Eve drained her magic like a starving beast.

"You're killing her, Everlina!" Sia cried, frantic.

I stepped forward. "Eve-love-look at me."
But she didn't react. Her eyes were vacant, her soul absent as magic poured through her like a river in flood.

Eric moved fast and knocked her down from behind, jolting her consciousness-but then Eve latched onto his energy. Daniel shifted instantly, baring his teeth, ready to attack her.

"No! Daniel, stop!" I snapped. "You'll get trapped like Eric-we have to reverse this, not fight her."

I looked at Agatha, who shrank away in fear.

"Annabelle!" I barked. "Create the binding circle. Now."

"Aaron," she said, warning in her voice, "once we do this, there's no going back."

"Do it."

The witches formed a circle and began chanting. Even my wolf shuddered-witchcraft was never my thing. Eve's body trembled violently, small and fragile yet carrying too much raw power. Agatha had been right-she was lost inside the magic.

Then Eve whispered, almost in a trance:

"When you cross fire with a witch... what do you get?"

Eric fell free immediately, gasping as he stumbled away and shifted into his wolf form. Daniel clutched his chest, shifting unwillingly as Lyra panicked and broke the binding circle to reach him.

The break snapped the spell. Eve collapsed.

I caught her in my arms as she went limp. "Eve... Eve..." But she was unconscious.

"What was that riddle?" Agatha demanded. "What does it mean?"

Before I could answer, Cynthia spoke, eyes wide with realization.
"When witches cross fire, a fire spell is created. I think we were supposed to use the fire spell to remove the magic from her."

But it was too late.

The clock struck midnight.

The witching hour.

And Rodger arrived.

His voice slithered through the air, taunting and dripping with malice.
"I wish I came earlier... to watch Everlina fail to control magic. What a useless witch."

Rage tore through me. I shifted instantly, my wolf taking over.

The witches linked hands and began a powerful spell. Eve stirred weakly and joined them, her voice trembling but determined. Eric and Daniel stood beside me in full wolf form.

Rodger tried to summon magic-but the binding spell held him.

We attacked.

Daniel lunged first, then Eric, then me. I clamped my jaws into Rodger's shoulder, tearing deep. His screams ripped through the trees as my brothers tore into him from both sides. The witches' spell kept him from defending himself, and we ripped him down until he was nothing but blood, pain, and breathless agony.

But not dead.

He couldn't be dead.

So we tied him down, his body mangled and his blood soaking the earth. His breaths came in wet, choking gasps as he lay there, helpless.

And the night was far from over.