Page 64 of Betrayed Alpha Mate

There’s a message burned into the ground.

“THE FIFTH WITCH RISES.

THE WARLOCK WAITS.

THE MOON APPROACHES.”

Beside me, Emily’s palms begin to glow with magic as if responding to the magic. She looks up at the sky—at the full moon—before turning to me and meeting my eyes.

“It’s time,” she states matter-of-factly, and I nod once before turning to the others, holding Emily’s hand firmly, protectively in mine.

“It’s time to go to Swan's Island,” I tell our friends, and there’s a collective shiver that runs down all our spines, because this is the moment we’ve all been working toward.

The final battle has arrived, and Emily is ready. So am I, and the others.

Chapter 24 - Emily

Swan’s Island rises out of the Atlantic like a secret the sea has kept too long, the abandoned land standing before us like a mystery, an eerie mist cast over its trees.

“Remember, there are three wicked witches remaining…” Delilah reminds us, her voice a terse whisper.

“The Harrower,” I say.

“The Veilcaster,” Arianna names the second witch who remains—the one who casts shields and can protect the evil witches from our attacks.

“And the Bloodletter…” Gwen murmurs grimly, as if recalling her horrific encounter with the evil witches nearly a year ago. The Bloodletter was the one who poisoned her, the evil magic taking over her body. She’d been in a coma for months after the poison had been removed, and it changed her.

“Everyone just needs to be careful,” Dominic says flatly.

“We work as a team,” Tyler adds.

The ferry cuts through the fog in near silence, its horn muted, swallowed by the thick, rolling mist that clings to the water like breath on cold glass. The ocean smells sharp and ancient here, thick with salt and iron like a barrier that’s meant to keep everything out. As the dock looms into view, my magic stirs, not in warning, but in recognition.

It’s like it knows this place, knows that our greatest adversary walked this soil.

Sean’s hand encloses mine as the ferry slows, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles like a steady, grounding reminder that I’m not in this alone. The bond between us hums softly, a quiet current instead of the storm it once was. Behind us, boots hit the deck, the familiar presence of our special army settling into place.

Nicholas stands rigid, eyes scanning the shoreline. Gwen murmurs under her breath, already tasting the dark magic in the air. Tyler and Arianna exchange a look that says “this is it,” and I feel for them, and for Dominic. They each have children waiting back home for them, while Dom has a son and a pregnant mate waiting for him in Nightmist. Hunter and Delilah move as one, her hand resting lightly over Donna’s arm.

Donna shouldn’t be here.

She’s heavily pregnant, her movements slow, deliberate, but her presence burns bright and unyielding. Her magic flares protectively around her womb, ancient and maternal, and when her child shifts, I feel it ripple through the air like a promise that needs to be kept amongst the witches.

We step onto the dock, and the moment my boots touch the weathered wood, the island answers me. It’s not a violent response, but rather, it’s hushed. It’s a low, resonant hum beneath my feet, as if the land itself exhales. Gold flickers beneath my skin, restrained, controlled. My magic stretches outward in gentle tendrils, brushing against pine roots and stone, saltwater and soil.

Swan’s Island does not reject me. It opens like arms to welcome us.

“This place is layered,” Gwen murmurs, her eyes unfocused as she turns slowly, palms flexing at her sides. “Wards over wards. Some protective. Some…sleeping.”

Delilah nods. “Older than any of us.”

“Which means,” Tyler mutters, adjusting the grip on his weapon, “whatever is waiting for us here has been in the works since the Blood Moon War.”

Sean’s jaw tightens, and I squeeze his hand once. “They’ve been preparing for a long time, and now they know we’re here,” I say calmly.

No one questions it because we all know it’s true. I exchange a glance with Sean, a part of me wishing that we could have still had time, but now there’s no room for mistakes. We didn’t get to practice, but we’d spoken about it on our way here, and we know what needs to be done when the time comes. Sean squeezes my hand again with the silent reassurance that he knows what I’m thinking, and that he has faith in me, faith in us.

The road inland is narrow, cracked with age, winding through dense forest where the trees crowd close, their branches interlocking overhead like clasped fingers. The fog thins the further we go, retreating until the world sharpens with unsettling emptiness. There aren’t any birds singing, no insects buzzing, and even the air seems to hold its breath.