Wedded Witch (The Cursed Coven of Spells Hollow)

Chapter 22

OLAND

I watch her from the shadows, my breath caught in my chest as I take in the scene before me. There she is—Swyn, the woman I’ve been hunting, the one I’ve vowed to protect.

But instead of fear, instead of the wariness she should feel after running from me, she’s standing there, her shoulders relaxed, talking to them .

Three men, moving around her like they belong. Like they’re entitled to stand at her side, to shield her, when it’s my duty, my right to protect her.

My jaw tightens as I watch the bossiest one, the one with the sharp jawline, who seems to be the leader. He stands too close, his eyes never leaving her as though he could claim her with a look.

That should be me. I’m her Watcher. She belongs to me, to the Galdur family, bound by an oath as old as magic itself. The lines of protection we bear aren’t just tradition—they’re life and death, and she’s forgotten that.

Forgotten me.

The second man, damn near identical to the first and just as broad-shouldered, walks beside her like some casual protector, as if his mere presence is enough to keep her safe. I scoff quietly, feeling the pang of jealousy curl in my chest.

What does he think he can offer her? Nothing compared to what I’ve been trained for—decades of bloodlines and power that only I, as the Watcher, can wield.

The family’s magic flows through me as surely as it flows through her, and yet… she stands there, trusting them. These strangers.

And the last one…he shifts restlessly, his eyes darting between the others, ever alert like a predator circling his prey. His hand brushes against her lower back, protective but casual, as if touching her is second nature to him.

That infuriates me the most.

My hands clench at my sides, my nails biting into the skin of my palms. She looks too at ease, too comfortable, as if this is normal for her now. As if these three brutes could take my place, could offer her something more than what I’ve sworn to do.

Possessiveness surges in my blood. She’s mine. She was always supposed to be mine. I’ve followed her through towns, through miles of woodland, through magic, and yet here she is, smiling softly at these strangers.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous it is? Doesn’t she realise what she’s risking by trusting them instead of me?

The thought of them touching her, comforting her, loving her, drives a sharp spike of anger through me. They don’t know her like I do. Sure, she and I might be strangers still, but I know her family, her history, her struggles. I know her on a soul level.

They don’t understand her family’s history, the weight of the Galdur curse that binds us both. If she doesn’t break the curse soon, it won’t just be her life that’s at stake—it’ll be everything.

The world itself could unravel, and yet… she stands here, smiling like none of that matters.

I want to reach out, to drag her back into the safety she doesn’t realise she needs. But I can’t—not yet. I need to see how far this charade will go. I need to know what these men want from her.

Because they don’t understand the burden she carries, the curse that flows in her veins. Only I understand. Only I know how to protect her from what’s coming.

But I will take her back.

Soon.