The Alpha's Gamble - Chapter 103: Chapter 103
You are reading The Alpha's Gamble, Chapter 103: Chapter 103. Read more chapters of The Alpha's Gamble.
MADELINE
I’m never taking the wind smacking me in the face for granted ever again.
Breathing it in and filling my lungs with scents other than my own was a feeling I never thought I’d miss, or seeing these people that I grew up with live out their lives in the most mundane ways that used to make me want to run and hide. Seeing them now filled me with excitement, and I kept guessing what each person was off to do next.
Once in the woods, Landon and Logan dug up the barrels and grabbed two each. They were both sporting a frown, not the faces of two guys who were getting into mischief again.
I followed their movements, each heavy lift and dig of the shovel as they poured the dirt back in. They looked like two kids who had been forced to grow up and leave behind all that was fun, eyes narrowed and focus sharp on the task at hand, not at all the giddy boys who buried the barrels weeks ago. Something in them had died along the way. As far as Landon was concerned I didn’t give a shit, I’m glad parts of him died. But Logan, he was the king of mischief, I’m not sure where it went.
“Let’s go, stay close,” Logan’s warm fingers circled my arm, and he yanked me behind him. We hurried through the forest, down paths I’d never walked before, and wondered if it was safe to go there on foot. That was until the buzz echoed closer and the sound of drilling and hammering scared the crows in the trees.
“Wait,” I said and peeked from behind the trees at the large wooden pillar being raised by machines they had driven onto our pack.
“The Ember Ring is being hosted here? At the Obsidian Pack?”
Landon’s eyes shot to his feet, and Logan’s dragged over my face.
“Yeah, poetic, isn’t it,” he said dryly, and I stubbed my toe on a rock when he pulled my arm as we continued walking.
It wasn’t easy sneaking around a hundred workers, all of them being werewolves, but we managed to sneak around the trailers and around the tents where they had set up shop while building the arena. It would take at least two weeks to have everything ready and once they were done, it would land almost on the day of my fight. Watching the huge pieces being nailed and lifted by crane into the air to adjust into the metal railing they set up piece by piece was surreal. Logan pressed his index finger to his lips and flicked his head.
We circled the back of the trucks and rounded the massive pile of saws that lay on the ground—we continued until I saw three thick pipes attached to a tanker.
Landon hurried to fiddle with the iron lock on one of the pipes while Logan took care of the other two and once off, they pulled the barrels closer; Landon ripped a piece of shirt off and tied it around his nose and mouth and the second he unscrewed the barrel’s seal, Logan jumped in front of me, planted the palm of his hand over my mouth, blocked my nose and planted his other hand firmly on the back of my head as he drew a deep breath.
Just because my airways were protected didn’t mean I couldn’t tell exactly what it was; my eyes watered at first, my vision spotted from the stinging tears, and then came the burn and churned on my eyeballs like acid. I felt it on my skin, though no drop had hit me, the mere particles were latching onto my arms, and the blood rushed through my body in panic.
Liquid wolfsbane, that’s what they had filled the barrels with, and they’re pouring it into the tank. Holy shit… that’s bad.
I tried to follow the pipes to see where they led without moving my head, but only managed to spot them going under a table and slithering back around a tent. They went much further than that, but when I tried to turn my head, Logan tightened his hold and forced my head to stay put.
Landon hurried, one barrel after the other, and he emptied them into the tank. I grabbed Logan’s arms, my lungs were screaming for air, and I gagged against his hand, but he pressed harder and squeezed his eyes shut.
“What the fuck is that smell?” the faint voice came from far away but it wouldn’t take them long to find us. Landon’s eyes locked with my round ones, and he nodded in a hurry as he emptied the last barrel.
“Don’t cough,” Logan hissed as Landon screwed the barrel shut and put the pipe back. I was released, desperate to draw a breath and fill my aching lungs, but hit with immediate regret when it felt like I inhaled sharp nails that tore up the inside of my body.
The guys grabbed the barrels, and Logan ushered me forward while I choked on the cough that rose.
Footsteps were circling us, voices hissing and grunting, getting louder as they approached us.
I wondered for a second what they would do if they found us with empty barrels reeking of liquidized wolfsbane… but then I stopped wondering because the images were too horrific to live with. These were people who sought enjoyment in seeing others fight till death or serious mutilation against each other in a ring designed to keep the warriors in. Most common was for fights to end only when someone died. Even if you were unconscious, they still wouldn’t stop it unless the opponent called for it. They liked the thrill of the kill, it solidified their win, it was a matter of pride for many of them. For men like Volokov or the Timber pack, it wasn’t an option, it was the only way out. Kill or be killed. We took off toward the forest, hiding our scent in different directions and skated past the trees and through the bushes like our lives depended on it. Because they did.
Once away from earshot, I hoped, I folded over and felt my stomach stir as I heaved against a tree. Whatever they poured that shit into, I wasn’t looking forward to finding out why.
I met up with the guys at the meeting spot and Logan barged over to me when I stumbled out from between the trees.
He probably thought I was right behind him but with my blurred vision and the possible threat of pissed off wolves on my heels, it felt safer to go around and just meet them there.
Nevertheless, I prepared myself for a scolding when he appeared in front of me, eyes blazing with a raging fire and a deep wrinkle between his brows. Logan grabbed my arm, something I’d noticed he enjoyed, pulling me around like a dog on a leash.
I didn’t expect now to be any different, here comes the shouting and berating and tossing me back in the room and…
“What’s happening?” I said in a breath.
Logan’s fingers circled my shoulder and he pulled me in, rough enough so that I slammed into his chest and he glued our fronts together, locking his arms behind my back.
“I never should have let you come,” he whispered into the knotted pieces of my hair.
Did I involuntarily give off a vibe saying: I’m helpless and defenseless and need to be held in a pink fluffy bedroom where I can never be harmed? What the hell.
I pulled back and managed to calm the glare I held, because his eyes held nothing but deep devotion, a glittering spark on the surface of his eyes and emotions I rarely saw—if I ever had—bared in a raw depiction of everything I didn’t think he was capable of.
“What have we done?” I asked. Concern swept through me and flashed my eyes. The guys looked at each other, a silent message passed between them and Logan raised his shoulders to his ears.
“We just saved your ass,” he said oh so charmingly.
I’m never taking the wind smacking me in the face for granted ever again.
Breathing it in and filling my lungs with scents other than my own was a feeling I never thought I’d miss, or seeing these people that I grew up with live out their lives in the most mundane ways that used to make me want to run and hide. Seeing them now filled me with excitement, and I kept guessing what each person was off to do next.
Once in the woods, Landon and Logan dug up the barrels and grabbed two each. They were both sporting a frown, not the faces of two guys who were getting into mischief again.
I followed their movements, each heavy lift and dig of the shovel as they poured the dirt back in. They looked like two kids who had been forced to grow up and leave behind all that was fun, eyes narrowed and focus sharp on the task at hand, not at all the giddy boys who buried the barrels weeks ago. Something in them had died along the way. As far as Landon was concerned I didn’t give a shit, I’m glad parts of him died. But Logan, he was the king of mischief, I’m not sure where it went.
“Let’s go, stay close,” Logan’s warm fingers circled my arm, and he yanked me behind him. We hurried through the forest, down paths I’d never walked before, and wondered if it was safe to go there on foot. That was until the buzz echoed closer and the sound of drilling and hammering scared the crows in the trees.
“Wait,” I said and peeked from behind the trees at the large wooden pillar being raised by machines they had driven onto our pack.
“The Ember Ring is being hosted here? At the Obsidian Pack?”
Landon’s eyes shot to his feet, and Logan’s dragged over my face.
“Yeah, poetic, isn’t it,” he said dryly, and I stubbed my toe on a rock when he pulled my arm as we continued walking.
It wasn’t easy sneaking around a hundred workers, all of them being werewolves, but we managed to sneak around the trailers and around the tents where they had set up shop while building the arena. It would take at least two weeks to have everything ready and once they were done, it would land almost on the day of my fight. Watching the huge pieces being nailed and lifted by crane into the air to adjust into the metal railing they set up piece by piece was surreal. Logan pressed his index finger to his lips and flicked his head.
We circled the back of the trucks and rounded the massive pile of saws that lay on the ground—we continued until I saw three thick pipes attached to a tanker.
Landon hurried to fiddle with the iron lock on one of the pipes while Logan took care of the other two and once off, they pulled the barrels closer; Landon ripped a piece of shirt off and tied it around his nose and mouth and the second he unscrewed the barrel’s seal, Logan jumped in front of me, planted the palm of his hand over my mouth, blocked my nose and planted his other hand firmly on the back of my head as he drew a deep breath.
Just because my airways were protected didn’t mean I couldn’t tell exactly what it was; my eyes watered at first, my vision spotted from the stinging tears, and then came the burn and churned on my eyeballs like acid. I felt it on my skin, though no drop had hit me, the mere particles were latching onto my arms, and the blood rushed through my body in panic.
Liquid wolfsbane, that’s what they had filled the barrels with, and they’re pouring it into the tank. Holy shit… that’s bad.
I tried to follow the pipes to see where they led without moving my head, but only managed to spot them going under a table and slithering back around a tent. They went much further than that, but when I tried to turn my head, Logan tightened his hold and forced my head to stay put.
Landon hurried, one barrel after the other, and he emptied them into the tank. I grabbed Logan’s arms, my lungs were screaming for air, and I gagged against his hand, but he pressed harder and squeezed his eyes shut.
“What the fuck is that smell?” the faint voice came from far away but it wouldn’t take them long to find us. Landon’s eyes locked with my round ones, and he nodded in a hurry as he emptied the last barrel.
“Don’t cough,” Logan hissed as Landon screwed the barrel shut and put the pipe back. I was released, desperate to draw a breath and fill my aching lungs, but hit with immediate regret when it felt like I inhaled sharp nails that tore up the inside of my body.
The guys grabbed the barrels, and Logan ushered me forward while I choked on the cough that rose.
Footsteps were circling us, voices hissing and grunting, getting louder as they approached us.
I wondered for a second what they would do if they found us with empty barrels reeking of liquidized wolfsbane… but then I stopped wondering because the images were too horrific to live with. These were people who sought enjoyment in seeing others fight till death or serious mutilation against each other in a ring designed to keep the warriors in. Most common was for fights to end only when someone died. Even if you were unconscious, they still wouldn’t stop it unless the opponent called for it. They liked the thrill of the kill, it solidified their win, it was a matter of pride for many of them. For men like Volokov or the Timber pack, it wasn’t an option, it was the only way out. Kill or be killed. We took off toward the forest, hiding our scent in different directions and skated past the trees and through the bushes like our lives depended on it. Because they did.
Once away from earshot, I hoped, I folded over and felt my stomach stir as I heaved against a tree. Whatever they poured that shit into, I wasn’t looking forward to finding out why.
I met up with the guys at the meeting spot and Logan barged over to me when I stumbled out from between the trees.
He probably thought I was right behind him but with my blurred vision and the possible threat of pissed off wolves on my heels, it felt safer to go around and just meet them there.
Nevertheless, I prepared myself for a scolding when he appeared in front of me, eyes blazing with a raging fire and a deep wrinkle between his brows. Logan grabbed my arm, something I’d noticed he enjoyed, pulling me around like a dog on a leash.
I didn’t expect now to be any different, here comes the shouting and berating and tossing me back in the room and…
“What’s happening?” I said in a breath.
Logan’s fingers circled my shoulder and he pulled me in, rough enough so that I slammed into his chest and he glued our fronts together, locking his arms behind my back.
“I never should have let you come,” he whispered into the knotted pieces of my hair.
Did I involuntarily give off a vibe saying: I’m helpless and defenseless and need to be held in a pink fluffy bedroom where I can never be harmed? What the hell.
I pulled back and managed to calm the glare I held, because his eyes held nothing but deep devotion, a glittering spark on the surface of his eyes and emotions I rarely saw—if I ever had—bared in a raw depiction of everything I didn’t think he was capable of.
“What have we done?” I asked. Concern swept through me and flashed my eyes. The guys looked at each other, a silent message passed between them and Logan raised his shoulders to his ears.
“We just saved your ass,” he said oh so charmingly.
End of The Alpha's Gamble Chapter 103. Continue reading Chapter 104 or return to The Alpha's Gamble book page.