The Matriarch's Grip

SIENNA'S POV

The glass slipped from my hand, shattering on the floor, orange juice spilling across the tiles. I raised my hands instinctively, a frantic gesture to show I wasn’t a threat. My heart hammered against my chest as my voice trembled out of me.

“I’m not a witch,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

The grip around my throat tightened momentarily, and I