Chapter 130 - Alana POV Part 1

Chapter 130 - Alana POV Part 1
Damn wolves.
Damn their fated mates.
And damn Trevor for convincing me his son wouldn't be a problem.
I stared at the empty tunnel where JR had disappeared moments ago.
"I told you."
Trevor sighed beside me.
"Don't."
"Oh, I'm going to."
I turned on him.
"I said we stick to the original plan. You insisted your son could help."
"He can."
"Really?"
I pointed toward the tunnel.
"Because your incredibly useful son just abandoned the most important part of the fucking plan."
Trevor's jaw tightened.
"He'll come back."
"No, he won't. We both know how your kind is."
Not in time.
I knew wolves.
The moment that bond took hold, everything else became secondary.
Pack.
Duty.
War.
Common fucking sense.
All of it disappeared beneath one primal command.
Protect your mate.
This was exactly why I preferred working alone.
People were unreliable.
Emotions were worse.
Stephen, however...
Stephen was predictable.
The ground shook above us.
Dust fell from the tunnel ceiling.
Another explosion.
Screams followed.
I closed my eyes.
Listened.
Felt.
Magic flowed through these tunnels like veins beneath skin, carrying whispers from every spell being cast across the battlefield.
Witches were fighting.
Most of the mine. Well, Stephen’s. The only one that knew my true intentions was standing next to me, and right now I wish he didn’t. 
Stephen's hybrids were dying.
So were wolves.
Bears.
Vampires.
Everything was unfolding exactly as Stephen wanted.
Chaos.
He loved chaos.
Not because he couldn't control it.
Because he could.
Stephen had spent centuries convincing everyone that rage ruled him.
It didn't.
Ego did.
That was his weakness.
Always had been.
He needed everyone to know he was the most powerful creature in the room.
Needed submission.
Fear.
Worship.
That is why he wants Trinity...
He wouldn't send someone else.
He would get her himself.
A slow smile touched my lips.
The fool had practically raised me.
He thought he'd molded me into his perfect weapon.
Stephen believed he'd taken a frightened seven-year-old girl and burned every ounce of compassion from her.
He thought he'd erased my mother.
My coven.
My values.
My soul.
What he never understood was that I remembered everything.
Every scream.
Every body.
Every drop of my mother's blood.
I remembered hiding beneath that table while Stephen dragged her across the floor by her hair.
I remembered her looking at me.
Not screaming.
Not begging.
Just looking at me.
Her final words had never left me.
Live, Alana.
So I did.
I lived.
I smiled for the monster who murdered her.
I learned the darkest of magic.
Learned how to twist souls and species. 
Studied his weaknesses.
Helped bury his enemies.
I became useful.
Then indispensable.
Eventually...
Trusted.
Stephen thought he'd created me.
In truth...
He'd spent centuries sharpening the blade that would eventually cut his throat.
I looked down at the ritual circle.
Useless.
Months of preparation reduced to glowing symbols carved into stone.
This plan required three of us.
Trevor was to be the anchor to the physical realm.
JR supplied the bloodline.
I controlled the spell.
Stephen entered the circle...
And the trap closed.
Simple.
Elegant.
Fatal.
Now JR was gone.
The balance was broken.
The circle as it is now can’t contain Stephen.
"Fuck."
Trevor stepped beside me.
"Can we modify it back to what it was?"
I glared at him.
"You mean can I completely reconstruct an ancient containment ritual in the middle of a supernatural war because your son couldn't keep his dick under control?"
His eyebrow lifted.
"That's not exactly what happened."
"I don't care."
Another explosion rocked the tunnel.
I looked back at the circle.
Think.
There had to be another way.
Even the previous plan before JR showed up would take too long to prepare. 
Containment was now impossible.
But containment had never been the true objective.
Weakening Stephen was.
More specifically...
Separating him from his wolf.
That was the source of the bastard's greatest power.
His longevity.
His strength.
His regeneration.
His connection to the hybrids.
Strip the wolf...
And Stephen became flesh.
Powerful flesh.
But flesh nonetheless.
Flesh bleeds.
Flesh breaks.
Flesh dies.
My eyes slowly moved toward the dagger resting beside the ritual circle.
"No..."
Trevor looked at me.
"What?"
I ignored him.
The containment spell couldn't hold Stephen anymore.
But magic didn't disappear simply because a ritual failed.
It remained.
Waiting for direction.
"What if I don't contain him?" I whispered, talking to no one in particular. 
"What are you talking about?"
I grabbed the dagger.
"I can move the circle” 
Trevor stared at me.
"You can't move a ritual circle."
"No." A smirk played at my lips.
"But I can move its magic."