The Possessive Alpha
Chapter 110

ELLE POV

“What have I done?” I growl. My b***d starts to boil; it didn’t take longer than two seconds for her to obliterate my calm. “All of this is because of your stupid obsessions!” I yell over the music playlist I had chosen, still blaring through the speakers of the house and the rest of the pack.

“I did what was necessary to make you the best!” She sneers, her demeanor turning to ice as she stares at me with dead eyes. The same look she would adopt whenever we were alone together, “if I hadn’t taken advantage of the situation, you would be weak! Now, look at you! You’ll be written about for decades to come!”

“Are you serious right now?!” I yell, my voice transforming into Scarlett’s as she thrashes for control, wanting to tear apart the woman we are supposed to call mother. “This was never about me,” I say, taking a deep breath through my nose and composing myself, “this was about how you would look; at least be honest about the bullshit.”

“Tiberius was going to attack your father anyways,” she snaps, stepping towards me, her second-rate Alpha energy trying to push me into submission. Noticing her movement, Charity attempts to step in front of me in protection, but my sidestep blocks her path, “why not use their fued to my advantage?”

“He might be alive if you hadn’t betrayed his trust,” I snap, walking to the back of the room. My words seem to hit their mark, her physically flinching like I had slapped her. A sad look passes over her face, “sometimes, collateral damage, he was your mate! He was my father!”

“And if I had let him make all the decisions, you would be a sniveling little pack princess,” She mutters, her feet moving in steady and slow movements toward me, “you should be thanking me, you selfish little b***h. Because of my sacrifices, YOU will be the greatest Luna Born of all time!”

“I was already going to be that,” I reply, letting my aura roll freely, filling the small space; my mother is trying to ignore the pressure, but I can tell it’s starting to get to her. “You never feared me being a Luna Born, did you? That sob story you sold to the Ledgers was bullshit, wasn’t it?”

Hearing my accusations, a sardonic smile snakes its way across her features, distorting her face into something from a horror film. “It didn’t need to be the Ledgers, but when I asked a witch to find an Alpha male with a strong wolf, she presented me with Damon. Talking her into faking the mate bond between you was difficult and cost me a pretty penny, but she eventually gave in.”

With a small sigh, my mother continued explaining, “It helped that I had known her mother since childhood, and she was easier to manipulate. She would do anything to ensure the happiness of her son. I knew it and exploited it for my benefit. I had the perfect plan, and of course, being the disappointment you are, you had to screw it all up! All the dreams I had for our future are completely dashed now.”

Her sentence throws me off guard before a shrill laugh bubbles past my lips, filling the space; Charity uses my mom’s distraction to move behind her. “Well, you got scammed,” I say through the giggles, “the only reason the mate bond was easy to “fake” is because we are already mates paired by the Goddess herself. Not because of anything you did.”

Her eyes narrow at me as she weighs the truth of my words, unsure if I will be believed. Finally, she decides not to trust me, like I am lying to her or something. “I watched her put a spell on you,” she snaps, not liking the idea that someone might have been smarter than her.

“Some hocus pocus mumbo-jumbo,” I say, growing tired of this conversation that has taught me nothing more than I already suspected with the memories that have been trickling the last few days. “But I have s**t to get done, and I am wasting too many breaths on you.”

“Well, go along,” waving her hand, shooing me away like a pest, “you need to win Silver Run back for us; we have things to accomplish!” She says, her eyes meeting mine, her voice serious as she stares at me in excitement.

“Cynthia, you’re officially a prisoner of Silver Run,” I say, my voice becoming colder with each word out of my mouth. The excitement that had once passed over her face darkens as she looks at me, her eyes narrowing as she sizes me up.

“That doesn’t work for me,” her hand snapping out to grab the heavy crystal dish sitting on one of the end tables, launching the item directly at my head. Thank the Goddess for my catlike reflexes as I duck out of the way. Before I can register her movement, her foot flies out to try to connect with my face as I roll away before bouncing back to my feet.

“I taught you everything,” Cynthia says, getting in a protective stance, advancing slowly, and staying in the defensive position, which is perfect. I live in offense. “Do you really think you can beat me?” She says as she advances once more, her fist flying for my face, but I weave while my feet continue to carry me out of her space and away from her body, which only pisses her off more as she tries to put more force behind her movements.

With the next attempted blow, I spin outside her body, grabbing her arm, my fist crunching the bones of her face, before I reel back, making her come back at me. Charity does nothing but remains alert and watches the fight, so if she needs to intervene, she is quick to respond.

As my mother passes by the desk, she grabs the letter opener sitting there while she charges at me, ready to make a killing blow. Holding it in her left hand, she makes quick and jagged movements toward me, with no fluidity in her steps.

As I watch the way she holds the blade, moving with her, I can’t help but wonder if she is sorely out of practice or if this is just for show to throw me off my game and make me cocky. Continuing with her aggression, my mother steps into my space. Using this chance, I grab her outstretched hand with my right hand to keep the blade away from me while I turn into her space. With my back facing her chest, I land two hard blows to her stomach and one to her face using my elbow, her nose snapping with the break as b***d spurts everywhere.

The two blows into the stomach were enough to get the letter opener to fall to the ground, my foot instantly kicking it away and out of reach. With my back turned away from my mother for two seconds, she uses this mistake of mine to her advantage as she attacks from behind, placing my neck in the crook of her elbow as she attempts a sleeper hold. But I tuck my chin as my elbow connects with her stomach as I flip her over onto the coffee table in the middle of the room.

Glass shatters everywhere, tiny shards digging themselves into the carpet while my mother g****s, rolling onto her side in an attempt to stand. Her arms and face bleeding from the glass cutting her up. Charity and I stood above her, our stances locked, preparing her to become more feral with each injury.

Based on her fighting technique, I wouldn’t be surprised if these new injuries fuel her rage even more, making her more rabid and ill-prepared to fight. She is letting her emotions control her actions. She is letting them control her fight, and she won’t make it out alive because of that.

With a final g***n, Cynthia picks herself off the ground while she wobbles on her feet, barely able to stand, as a few glass shards stuck out from her arm, the small pieces embedded in the skin. “Is that all you got?” My mother taunts me as she teeters from side to side, barely staying on her feet.

Charity’s gaze meets mine, her face incredulous, as her eyes scream the question she refuses to mutter aloud: “Is this b***h crazy?” Waving me towards her, I make no movements towards her as Eli’s voice comes through the earpiece, asking for our location.

Knowing I am too focused on my mom’s sporadic movements and feral mindset, Charity responds quickly to our location and situation. Using one of the codewords we invented for the mission, she lets the others know we need to push the next phase by five minutes as we ran into unexpected complications.

My mother’s bloody body comes flying at me in a fit of rage, a wild, untamed scream escaping her lips, her entire demeanor consumed by rage and embarrassment over her failures. Spinning out of her way, she grabs my arm at the last minute before she throws me into the wall, my head banging against the drywall.

My mom uses my moment of dazed confusion to her advantage, grabbing a fistful of my hair to pull my head back and land in a couple of blows, my face already beginning to puff with bruises. Kicking her away from me, she growls before running at me, claws outstretched. Rolling away, I my legs around her feet and tug her toward me, her body falling to the ground with ease. Stradling her for a quick second, I land a few more blows to her face while she tries to buck me off using her h**s, a frustrated growl leaving her lips when it doesn’t work.

Because of the movement, my dress begins to ride up, revealing the dagger belt and sheath attached to my h*p. The silver at the base of the handle grabbed my mother’s attention as her eyes flash with recognition of the object.

As if everything is happening in slow motion, I see her make a move for the handle; blocking her movement, I grab the handle myself pushing it further into the holder, before tucking and rolling away from her. Standing on my two feet, I stare at the bruised and bloody face of the woman who gave birth to me, wondering how she could do this to her own daughter.

Her bruised and bloody face contorts with undeniable rage, her breathing uneven, and her bones start breaking as she tries to stop the shift her wolf attempts to force on her. “You don’t deserve that blade, b***h,” her voice comes out in a low animalistic growl as her eyes turn to a deep onyx black, letting me know her wolf is in control. “That dagger is meant for the Alpha of Silver Run, and you have done nothing to deserve it.”

‘Kill her,’ Scarlett says, speaking for the first time the entire fight, ‘you need to kill her, Elle, or she will never stop coming for you. We can never be free with her roaming around.’

Sensing my momentary distraction, my mother launches herself at me; thankfully, I duck at the last possible second, one hand resting on the hilt of my blade protectively, as I spin away from her. Hating that I sidestepped her once again, my mother growls, partially shifting before running at me again.

Waiting until my mother is right upon me, I unsheath my dagger tilting it upwards as my mothers half contorted body runs into it. A painful hiss escaped her lips as the silver blade slices through her skin like a hot knife slices through butter.

I feel nothing but her warm b***d as it oozes from her body, coating the blade and my hands. I thought I would be in more shock taking a life, but I am not. Seeing that she is still clinging to life, I move the blade downward, cutting through her abdomen as more of her dark red b***d gushes to the ground.

Neither of us says anything to each other in those final moments as she takes her last gurgled breaths as drowns in her b***d. Before her eyes close and the light dims for her eyes, I lean in to whisper in her ear, “Rot in hell, b***h,” dropping her lifeless body in a pool of her own b***d without a single drop of remorse.