Willow pressed her palms against the wall, forcing herself upright despite the dizziness.She could taste her own blood, smell the stink of Marcus’s corruption—and beneath it, something else.Something older.A voice, soft but steady, echoing from the bones of her soul.
You are not only human, child.You are a witch.It is time you remembered what you are.
Libby’s voice.Clear, fierce, undeniable.
Willow’s breath caught.Power flickered beneath her skin, a heat that felt less like pain and more like...possibility.For a moment, she saw through Libby’s eyes—the battlefield two centuries ago, Matthew’s killing spell splitting the night, Liam and Jacob falling to the ground as she screamed their names.She felt Libby’s agony like it was her own, every heartbeat a knife.And in that reflection, she understood: this searing grief was what their mate had endured watching them die.What Willow had suffered was terrible, but what Libby had borne was worse.And now, Willow carried her vengeance too.
She climbed to her feet, wiping blood from her chin with the back of her hand.“You’re right,” she whispered to the air.“It’s time to get my Wicca on.”
The door to the basement slammed open.Ursula limped in, fury burning bright despite the bruises darkening her face.Beside her, Saffie strode forward, her eyes blazing, her hands already alive with a storm of green fire.Together, the three women faced Marcus and his enthralled minions.
“Ladies,” Saffie said, her voice wicked with promise as she strode to the east wall opposite Willow, her magic flaring.Ursula limped to the south, grounding them in fire and fury.Willow felt the rune binding her pulse, her own power tugging from the west.For a heartbeat she sensed the space between them, a missing tether, someone absent who should have made their circle whole.
She drew a ragged breath, her anger fusing with strength.“Let’s make this cinematic.”
The basement erupted in chaos.Spells cracked like lightning, bolts of fire and shadow colliding.Minions screamed as Ursula’s flames burned them to ash.Saffie’s magic slashed through the air, slicing another clean in half.Willow raised her hands, instinct guiding her and a wave of white light surged outward, blasting three men back into the walls with bone-breaking force.She reached out and held Marcus frozen where he stood.
The three women exchanged a glance, power weaving between them like threads of gold, fire and storm.Ursula lifted her hands and began to chant, her voice rich and commanding.Saffie joined a beat later, her tone sharper, like wind cutting across flame.Their words intertwined, ancient syllables echoing with raw magic, wrapping around Willow until her skin prickled with energy.She gasped, feeling the spell surge strong—then falter, the rhythm breaking, the cadence hollowing.The absence of the fourth voice left a ragged edge in their circle, the harmony incomplete.
“Hold the circle!”Ursula cried, sweat gleaming on her brow.
Saffie bared her teeth, pushing harder.“Push, Willow!Push with us!Even cracked, our chorus is stronger than his rot!”
Willow’s voice trembled but she forced it into the chant, her words lacing with theirs, patching the gap even as she felt the hole where someone vital should have stood.
“We’re missing someone,” Willow gasped, her power straining, sweat dripping down her spine.“The circle isn’t complete!”
“Then we hold anyway!”Ursula shouted, fire searing from her palms.“Better cracked glass than none at all!”
Saffie snarled, her eyes flashing.“Push, Willow!Push with us!”
Willow lifted her chin, her voice joining theirs.The three of them roared the last words together, the basement shaking as their combined power ripped through the enthralled men.Flesh blackened, bones snapped, screams filled the air before silence swallowed them whole.
When the last of the minions fell, Willow turned to her mates.The collars glowed red-hot, biting into their necks.She staggered forward, pressed her palms to the iron and let her power pour through her.The collars cracked, then shattered, falling away in sparks.Liam and Jacob surged forward instantly, pulling her between them.
“Claim me,” Willow said, her voice raw, trembling but resolute.“I know what I need to do.Claim me now.”
They didn’t hesitate.Liam’s teeth sank into the curve of her neck on the left side, Jacob’s on the right.Pain flared, then melted into fire, power, and oneness.She screamed, not in fear but in ecstasy, as the bond locked into place.Their blood mingled, their spirits entwined.One heart.One fate.One future.
As they pulled back, Willow stepped forward, her men flanking her, Ursula and Saffie behind.She reached for Marcus, her hand clamping around his throat, her power blazing through her veins.His skin burned beneath her touch, the scent of scorched flesh rising as she tightened her grip.
“You can take your curse straight to hell.”
Marcus choked, his eyes blazing with the same demonic fire she remembered from Matthew.For a heartbeat, the two images overlapped in her mind—Matthew striking Libby, Marcus striking her.Past and present fused, her fury doubling.
“No man can kill me!No wolf can end me!”he rasped, spittle flecking his lips.
“I am no man,” Willow snarled, voice low and dangerous.“And though I love my shifters, I am no wolf either.I’m a witch.I am the end you never saw coming.”
Marcus tried to sneer, but she saw fear flash in his eyes.She drew on the rune, on the power of the west, on the strength of every sister before her.Threads of his curse writhed like snakes around her fingers, but she wrenched them free, tearing them apart one by one.His power bled into hers, unwilling, broken, stolen back by the line of women he had underestimated for centuries.
He screamed, the sound raw and inhuman, echoing off the stone walls.His body convulsed, black smoke bleeding from his pores.Willow leaned close, her voice a whisper meant for both Marcus and the memory of Matthew.“This is for Elizabet.This is for Libby.This is for every life you stole.Every tear you wrung out of the women who defied you.Every howl you forced from the throats of men you cut down.”
Marcus howled, clawing at her hand, his power unraveling in a torrent of agony.She twisted her wrist, forcing his essence to collapse inward, unraveling him from the inside out.He staggered, the demonic glow of his eyes flickering.
“See?”Jacob’s voice cut through, sharp with grim satisfaction.“I told you—you would die screaming.”
Marcus’s scream reached a pitch beyond human before his body collapsed inward, crumbling to ash that scattered across the stone floor, carried by the breath of the goddess herself.
