Chapter 145
**ARIA**
The night carried a strange stillness, the kind that felt rehearsed, deliberate. I stood near the council hall, wrapped in a dark coat against the chill, but my unease came from somewhere deeper. Every step of the plan had been drilled into us for days, every movement plotted and rehearsed. And still, as I waited, I felt like a string stretched too tight.
Adam’s hand found mine briefly, grounding me. His eyes, cool and calculating as always, gave nothing away. Austin lingered at my side, restless energy radiating off him like heat. They were opposites in so many ways—Adam with his composure, Austin with his fire—and yet, in that moment, they were one. Both here for me. Both here for our sons.
“Remember,” Adam murmured, eyes flicking toward the south gate, “we let him believe this is his choice. If he thinks he’s dictating the pace, he’ll walk straight into it.”
“And if he doesn’t?” I asked, voice low, though I already knew the answer.
Austin’s lips curved into something sharp. “Then we drag him in.”
From where I stood, I could just make out the patrols circling the perimeter, their movements casual, almost careless. It was an illusion, of course—Fares and Sasha’s men were tighter than ever, invisible in their shadows. Rosalie’s wards hummed faintly in the air, weaving a net of energy that even I, no witch, could sense thrumming against my skin.
It was a performance, and Alaric was meant to be the audience who thought he’d found a flaw in the script.
The minutes stretched like hours until finally, movement stirred beyond the gate. Not the jittery skulk of a scout this time. A figure walked with deliberate slowness, as though daring us to stop him. His long coat rippled in the wind, pale hair catching the moonlight. Even at a distance, I knew.
Alaric.
The predator who haunted my dreams. The voice I’d heard whispering promises I never wanted. And tonight, he was here—real, unshrouded, stepping exactly where we wanted him.
Austin stiffened, fists clenching. Adam’s shoulders went taut. I forced myself to breathe.
He didn’t rush the gate. He paused just beyond it, head tilting up as if admiring the wards themselves. Then, slowly, he spread his arms, palms open. The gesture was almost mocking.
“I’ve come to talk,” his voice rang out, carrying effortlessly over the cold air.
The sound of it scraped against my spine. That same dark velvet tone I remembered from the woods, when he’d told me my children should never be born.
Cassius and Sasha moved into position, subtle as shadows, and for a moment I thought—foolishly, desperately—that it was working. That he truly meant to walk into our trap without a fight.
He stepped forward, crossing the invisible threshold where Rosalie’s wards shimmered. Nothing stopped him. Not yet.
Adam gave the signal.
In an instant, the stage came alive. Nets of enchanted silver thread snapped into place, dropping from above like lightning. Fares’s deltas surged from the dark, their formation flawless. The wards blazed with sudden brilliance, sealing the gate like molten glass.
For the first time since I’d seen him, Alaric faltered. His head jerked up as the net closed around him, silver threads sparking against his skin. His arms strained, but the weave held, glowing brighter as Rosalie whispered from her post inside the hall.
The trap had worked.
The impossible had happened: Alaric, the shadow in every whispered fear, was bound.
A cheer rose from somewhere in the dark, cut short by Adam’s hand slicing the air. “Hold!” he commanded, his voice steady. “Not yet.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes from Alaric. Even caged in the net, his presence was suffocating. He smiled—a slow, terrible thing that didn’t belong to someone defeated.
“Well played,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping the line of us until it landed on me. “But tell me—do you think cages make me less dangerous?”
Austin took a step forward, fury radiating off him, but Adam’s hand shot out to stop him.
“Don’t,” Adam warned under his breath. “That’s what he wants.”
Alaric laughed softly. “You’ve grown clever. I wondered how long it would take. Still—cleverness won’t save you. Not from what’s coming.”
The silver net hissed where it touched his skin, but he didn’t scream. He didn’t even flinch. His eyes stayed locked on mine, unblinking, as though the rest of the world was irrelevant.
I felt Matteo and Leon stir through the bond, restless even in their sleep, as if sensing the tension in my body. My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Adam’s voice was like iron. “Take him.”
Fares’s deltas surged forward, moving as one to drag Alaric toward the reinforced chamber prepared beneath the hall. For a heartbeat, it looked almost easy. Too easy.
Then Alaric whispered something. Just one word.
The ground shuddered.
The air split open with a crack like thunder, and from the darkness beyond the warded gate came shapes—dozens, maybe more. Vampires. Werewolves. Figures cloaked in the allegiance Alaric had promised us was greater than we imagined.
They had been waiting. Watching.
The cheer that had begun earlier died in every throat.
The trap had worked—but so had his.
Alaric’s smile widened as the net burned against him. “Did you really think I would come alone?”
And in that moment, staring at the flood of shadows pouring toward us, I knew: the real battle had only just begun.
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