The Alpha's Gamble - Chapter 106: Chapter 106
You are reading The Alpha's Gamble, Chapter 106: Chapter 106. Read more chapters of The Alpha's Gamble.
MADELINE
After hearing their explanation on how exactly they "saved my life", I kneed the heel of my palm on my forehead. They told me about the fire that surrounds the ring once during every fight- something I already knew. The ring was divided, each fighter would return to their own side, their own half moon, as they called it, and the vent that they poured the wolfsbane into was connected to my opponent's half moon. We didn't know who my opponent was, but according to the rules, the younger one will be on the right, and the older on the left. After sticking his nose in bad places, Logan found out that I was the youngest of the fighters and therefore, he knew which side I'd be on. When the fire arose to separate us, wolfsbane would gather in the fumes and weaken the girl I was fighting.
Maybe I should've remained ethical, told them not to rig the game, but I needed the upper hand, and if anything, the wolfsbane would make this a fair fight.
Walking back to the mansion was mostly me staring at Landon’s hunched back and blocking out Logan’s constant rambling. By the time we got to the garden, Landon turned down the street without a word, and something about him looking so small was bothering me, not because I felt bad for him, but because his mind was elsewhere, and I couldn’t tell where.
“Where are you off to?” Logan asked.
Landon turned, a deep purple hue covered the skin around his eyes, and the charm I used to fall head over heels for, and run to like a stupid puppy being lured to the wolves’ den by the smell of meat, had entirely faded.
“Home. I’ve got,” I saw his fingers moving through the fabric of his jean pockets. “Stuff,” his melancholy voice was followed by an abrupt departure, and he was off to do stuff.
I couldn’t care less, good riddance, and hope he fell into a hole on his way there.
While I continued walking the road leading home, Logan grabbed my arm and pulled in another direction. Towards town.
“You need to stop pulling me around, I’m not a ragdoll.”
“Of course not, dolls aren’t as snippy,” he said dryly. Our eyes locked, a devious twinkle sparked in his, and he straightened his back, skipping down the road as we headed toward the streets full of people.
“Where are we going?”
“To have fun. What’s your favourite coffee shop?”
What?
His brows shot to his hairline, and he shrugged an unbothered shoulder.
“Fine, we’ll go to mine then.”
Logan led me to his favourite place where we got cake and coffee. We continued down the stores and stopped to do some shopping, he was piling clothes onto my arms and swiping his card, despite my insistent pleas for him to put them back.
We filled three bags, and two more in another store. Somehow, Logan was surprisingly good at picking out clothes for me, it was dresses and shirts in neutral tones, a lot of earthy colors, and the basic black and whites. Right up my alley. When I blocked him from going into another store, a lingerie store, telling him that I wouldn’t be caught dead walking in there with him, let alone allow him to buy anything for me, he grabbed the bags from my hands and continued down the street like a pack mule.
We turned down the corner and into a flower shop, where I stopped and looked at the midnight lilies and sunflowers. They had beautiful bouquets with mixes of flowers, big and small, bright and cheerful, and others more calmly toned.
I grabbed a bouquet and brought it under my nose.
The hyacinths and violets smelled like divinity, and the colors looked like a stormy sky with a pop of color from the carnations.
The ease with which flowers could make me smile was astonishing, and I pressed the bouquet towards Logan but found myself holding it like a dummy, telling a ghost to smell them.
The bags were on the ground. Where did he go?
I spun on my feet, put the flowers down, and did a full spin to see if he’d run off, but he was gone. I turned back to the store where his back came into frame through the window, and he pulled his card, sharing words with the florist.
When Logan came out, he could barely touch his fingers around the bucket in his hands.
“You got the bags?” he said and headed down the street.
“Did you buy their entire stash?” Disbelief dragged my words, and I hurried after his quick steps as we headed back to the mansion.
“No,” he scoffed and shoved his face into the ginormous bouquet. “Just the pretty ones,” he said.
We staggered into the kitchen where the smell of spices wafted in the air like faeridust, enchanting my senses and pulling me in like a sucker.
My stomach growled, and the bags dropped from my throbbing fingers.
Shit, that hurt. I massaged my fingers and tried to ease the redness. Looking at everything Logan had bought for me—it was insane—but I couldn’t wait to replace all the frills in my closet.
I hadn’t bothered looking up, too much in shock over the day we’d had, where we had actual fun together without doing any scheming. Just us. Just fun.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he said and flopped down on the chair. That’s when I noticed the spread laid out on plates and a bottle of wine that was uncorked, the smell of which tickled my nose and stirred something in my stomach. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a drink. It used to be a tradition I followed religiously every weekend… and weekday. Always a drink, or a bottle, or a bar, depending on how fucked up I wanted to get. It was a day-to-day thing, it helped me cope, it stilled the constant storm that brewed in my soul.
“I am,” I said and took a seat, all the while ogling the bottle of wine that stood in my eyesight.
Today was apparently all about being served. Logan took my plate and loaded everything on it, topping it off with a full scoop of gravy, and I was salivating. After making himself a plate, he took the bottle and reached for my glass, the cherry tone was hitting me hard—I could practically taste it on my tongue. The sensation of drowning my mind, forcing my body into a feeble state, and shutting the world out completely came back to me.
I shot my hand out and covered the top of the glass. Logan’s eyes shot to mine and he shook his head as if to say: what the fuck?
“None for me, thanks,” I put the glass down and grabbed my fork. The food looked delicious, and life, albeit sucky and hard most of the time, wasn’t something I wanted to escape from anymore. Not right now. If I couldn’t get rid of it by jumping off a cliff, I’m not getting rid of it at the bottom of a bottle.
Logan got up and took the bottle with him. He fiddled around behind me, but I was too busy moaning at the taste of the chef’s cooking and only noticed he returned when our shoulders brushed against each other.
“Good for you,” he said and poured soda into my glass, before filling his own.
After hearing their explanation on how exactly they "saved my life", I kneed the heel of my palm on my forehead. They told me about the fire that surrounds the ring once during every fight- something I already knew. The ring was divided, each fighter would return to their own side, their own half moon, as they called it, and the vent that they poured the wolfsbane into was connected to my opponent's half moon. We didn't know who my opponent was, but according to the rules, the younger one will be on the right, and the older on the left. After sticking his nose in bad places, Logan found out that I was the youngest of the fighters and therefore, he knew which side I'd be on. When the fire arose to separate us, wolfsbane would gather in the fumes and weaken the girl I was fighting.
Maybe I should've remained ethical, told them not to rig the game, but I needed the upper hand, and if anything, the wolfsbane would make this a fair fight.
Walking back to the mansion was mostly me staring at Landon’s hunched back and blocking out Logan’s constant rambling. By the time we got to the garden, Landon turned down the street without a word, and something about him looking so small was bothering me, not because I felt bad for him, but because his mind was elsewhere, and I couldn’t tell where.
“Where are you off to?” Logan asked.
Landon turned, a deep purple hue covered the skin around his eyes, and the charm I used to fall head over heels for, and run to like a stupid puppy being lured to the wolves’ den by the smell of meat, had entirely faded.
“Home. I’ve got,” I saw his fingers moving through the fabric of his jean pockets. “Stuff,” his melancholy voice was followed by an abrupt departure, and he was off to do stuff.
I couldn’t care less, good riddance, and hope he fell into a hole on his way there.
While I continued walking the road leading home, Logan grabbed my arm and pulled in another direction. Towards town.
“You need to stop pulling me around, I’m not a ragdoll.”
“Of course not, dolls aren’t as snippy,” he said dryly. Our eyes locked, a devious twinkle sparked in his, and he straightened his back, skipping down the road as we headed toward the streets full of people.
“Where are we going?”
“To have fun. What’s your favourite coffee shop?”
What?
His brows shot to his hairline, and he shrugged an unbothered shoulder.
“Fine, we’ll go to mine then.”
Logan led me to his favourite place where we got cake and coffee. We continued down the stores and stopped to do some shopping, he was piling clothes onto my arms and swiping his card, despite my insistent pleas for him to put them back.
We filled three bags, and two more in another store. Somehow, Logan was surprisingly good at picking out clothes for me, it was dresses and shirts in neutral tones, a lot of earthy colors, and the basic black and whites. Right up my alley. When I blocked him from going into another store, a lingerie store, telling him that I wouldn’t be caught dead walking in there with him, let alone allow him to buy anything for me, he grabbed the bags from my hands and continued down the street like a pack mule.
We turned down the corner and into a flower shop, where I stopped and looked at the midnight lilies and sunflowers. They had beautiful bouquets with mixes of flowers, big and small, bright and cheerful, and others more calmly toned.
I grabbed a bouquet and brought it under my nose.
The hyacinths and violets smelled like divinity, and the colors looked like a stormy sky with a pop of color from the carnations.
The ease with which flowers could make me smile was astonishing, and I pressed the bouquet towards Logan but found myself holding it like a dummy, telling a ghost to smell them.
The bags were on the ground. Where did he go?
I spun on my feet, put the flowers down, and did a full spin to see if he’d run off, but he was gone. I turned back to the store where his back came into frame through the window, and he pulled his card, sharing words with the florist.
When Logan came out, he could barely touch his fingers around the bucket in his hands.
“You got the bags?” he said and headed down the street.
“Did you buy their entire stash?” Disbelief dragged my words, and I hurried after his quick steps as we headed back to the mansion.
“No,” he scoffed and shoved his face into the ginormous bouquet. “Just the pretty ones,” he said.
We staggered into the kitchen where the smell of spices wafted in the air like faeridust, enchanting my senses and pulling me in like a sucker.
My stomach growled, and the bags dropped from my throbbing fingers.
Shit, that hurt. I massaged my fingers and tried to ease the redness. Looking at everything Logan had bought for me—it was insane—but I couldn’t wait to replace all the frills in my closet.
I hadn’t bothered looking up, too much in shock over the day we’d had, where we had actual fun together without doing any scheming. Just us. Just fun.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he said and flopped down on the chair. That’s when I noticed the spread laid out on plates and a bottle of wine that was uncorked, the smell of which tickled my nose and stirred something in my stomach. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a drink. It used to be a tradition I followed religiously every weekend… and weekday. Always a drink, or a bottle, or a bar, depending on how fucked up I wanted to get. It was a day-to-day thing, it helped me cope, it stilled the constant storm that brewed in my soul.
“I am,” I said and took a seat, all the while ogling the bottle of wine that stood in my eyesight.
Today was apparently all about being served. Logan took my plate and loaded everything on it, topping it off with a full scoop of gravy, and I was salivating. After making himself a plate, he took the bottle and reached for my glass, the cherry tone was hitting me hard—I could practically taste it on my tongue. The sensation of drowning my mind, forcing my body into a feeble state, and shutting the world out completely came back to me.
I shot my hand out and covered the top of the glass. Logan’s eyes shot to mine and he shook his head as if to say: what the fuck?
“None for me, thanks,” I put the glass down and grabbed my fork. The food looked delicious, and life, albeit sucky and hard most of the time, wasn’t something I wanted to escape from anymore. Not right now. If I couldn’t get rid of it by jumping off a cliff, I’m not getting rid of it at the bottom of a bottle.
Logan got up and took the bottle with him. He fiddled around behind me, but I was too busy moaning at the taste of the chef’s cooking and only noticed he returned when our shoulders brushed against each other.
“Good for you,” he said and poured soda into my glass, before filling his own.
End of The Alpha's Gamble Chapter 106. Continue reading Chapter 107 or return to The Alpha's Gamble book page.