Alpha Charlie's POV

With my lean and long fingers drumming on the table, I stared at the woman, no, the young girl, sitting in front of me with a deep frown in her face. We have been sitting like that for hours, and, honestly, I was losing it. The police detectives had told me that, as per what she had said, they had gone back to my mansion and checked every corner of it, but there was no camera that contained the evidence planted anywhere like she had said. The worst part was that she was calm and collected, and it was difficult for me as the Alpha of the Moon Pack to read her mind, and it was pissing me off.

She glared at me harshly, and I even stirred in my seat, wondering where the seventeen-year-old scared girl I picked out of the forest two years ago had gone. She was different now. Although she was still the same height, her hair, eyes, and skin had completely changed. She was a witch from the Orhan Coven, where she had escaped from getting married to an older man. She found herself in the Northern Pack, where Alpha Azeto didn't think twice about throwing her out because, as he had said, his pack was only for werewolves, not outsiders.

It was raining heavily that day, and because my wolf likes running on rainy days, we passed through the forest to finish our last lap, and that was when we found her. She was drenched and had passed out. Instinctively, I knew she was a witch because of how dark her orbs had turned. I am the strongest and most powerful Alpha among all packs', so I picked her up and took her to my mansion because I knew there she would have enough security and no one would dare to harm her. I wanted to take her to school because she was still young, but she refused, saying that she never liked school. I wanted to force her into the best school in the pack, but my wife Lilith, who had grown fond of her, asked me to respect her choice, and I did so.

She never worked, but she always had money, and I never dared ask her where she got it from as long as she was not stealing from me or my wife. When we celebrated her eighteenth birthday, things changed at the palace. No, we thought they would change, but they didn't. She was very understanding, and I was really happy for that. That night, as the band played her favorite song and I and my wife took her to the table so that she would make her wish and cut her cake, the lively atmosphere changed from a lively one to a tense one when we realized she was my mate.

I had waited for my mate for so many years until I met Lilith, who was also waiting for her mate. We fell in love, got married, and promised each other that when our mates came, we would reject them. That day, my wife, Lilith, was really scared. She thought that Ophra, which was the witch's name, wouldn't understand and would want to be with me because, honestly, she had grown fond of me. She had told both me and my wife how much she loved how I took care of her. She had admitted that no one had ever done that for her. My wife was pregnant and was one month overdue. She cried, saying she would never want her son to grow up without his father's love because we had gone for a scan and the doctor said she was carrying a boy.

Ophra came to her rescue because she laughed her heart out, telling Lilith that she was worrying for no reason and that she would never want to be with me. She said that she had her own reasons, which none of us had ever heard from her until today. She was never jealous; she never reminded Lilith that she was the one who was supposed to be with me, and even when our son was born, she loved him just like her own. I never understood the bond she shared with my son because, when he popped out of his mother's womb, he kept on crying nonstop and scanning her babby blue eyes around the hospital room as if looking for someone. The doctor said if we don't do anything to help him stop crying, then we may lose him.

The atmosphere in the hospital room changed when Ophra barged in, a bag of snacks in her hands, rushing in to see the new baby. The moment my son took her scent, he turned to look at her, giggling and throwing her tiny hands here and there as if calling for her. A wide smile appeared on Ophra's face as she hurriedly came to him and carried him. He stopped crying, remained calm, and giggled all the way home until he fell asleep. Since that day, they became inseparable; they were like mother and son, and it shocked everyone in our pack—even the pack's priest couldn't figure out what was going on when I asked him to come and try to see what was going on.

When he was one year old, the first word he said was mother, but he never directed it to Lilith but to Ophra. I lived in fear that one day Lilith might throw the poor girl out and she would be left wandering in the forest once again, but she never did. In fact, she never gave a damn about the fact that her own son was addressing another person as mother and never liked it when she touched him. I feel like she was more than happy because what she always did was party all day and night with her friends while Ophra took care of Limbart, our son.

"Sir, I have got concrete evidence against Miss Ophra," a detective said, pulling me from my dream world. I practically snatched the laptop from his hands, and my eyes widened as I watched the footage. Ophra was standing at the top of the staircases, with a faint laugh escaping her lips. She was recorded pushing Limbart down through the staircases, and when Lilith rushed to her, asking what she was doing, she pushed her as well.

I sighed, throwing daggers at her, and I groaned angrily at the sight in front of me. Ophra was already dozing peacefully instead of crying because of the guilt that washed over her, but she was not guilty at all.

"Miss Ophra, do you agree that you pushed Limbart and Lilith off the stairs on Tuesday night?" The detective, who shared a name with my son, asked her. She yawned lazily, looked around, and when I thought she wasn't going to respond, she uttered, "No, I don't."

"But we can all see the footage, Miss Ophra. This is you. Look at this raven tattoo on your back and the bracelet on your wrists; they are both yours; why are you refusing?" She was asked. Instead of responding, she just clicked her tongue in irritation, and in a calm voice she said, "I didn't push Limbart or Lilith off the staircases. I mean, why would I push them? Lilith took care of me when I first came in here, and Limbart is like my own son. So seriously, why would I do that, and for what reason?" She asked calmly.

When we were hosting Limbart's third birthday, or like she's always called him, Lim, she said she wouldn't be joining because she wasn't feeling herself and she would want to sleep. Lilith and Lim went upstairs to put on the best outfits I had bought for them, but it took them ages to come down. It was half an hour later that we were rushed upstairs by screams and found my son and darling wife lying on the floor with blood gushing all over them. The person who had screamed was Lia, Lilith's stepsister, and she said that she had seen Ophra with her own eyes pushing them down the stairs. Although I didn't trust her, she gave us some voice recordings where Ophra was screaming and telling Lilith that she never deserved to be with me because she was the one who was my mate, and she also said something like she wouldn't be taking care of her mate's other woman's son, so the best way she would get rid of them was by killing.

Honestly, I have never thought that Ophra could be that heartless. I believed her when no one else did, but that video the detective had just brought in proved my fears to be realities. She was the one who tried to kill them. "I would like to take her with me, detective Limbart. She wouldn't be locked up in these cells, but mine at home. I will make sure that she pays for the injuries she has caused both my son and wife," I announced sharply, leaving the room and heading to the hospital to look at my family.

Lilith was still in a coma, and the doctors said she may never wake up again, and my son, Lim, had regained his consciousness but had turned dumb. My once-parrot of a son couldn't speak anymore; the doctor said it was because of shock, but it doesn't matter because, for as long as my son remains dumb and as long as my wife stays in a coma, Ophra, or the witch of Orhan Coven, will have to pay for her sins.