The Alpha's Gamble - Chapter 80: Chapter 80

NOAH
Not sure if it was the thrill of having bashed through Landon’s home, or watching Tilly shake like a leaf under the blanket she used to cover up a bunch of shit I didn’t want to see, but I was filled with nerve-puzzling exhilaration. Limitless. Burning determination to fuck shit up once and for all. It was time I crossed a few things off my shit-list. One was done, and I had a few more to go; one after the other, I listed them in my head and made a mental check-list on my way home.
And once it was over, I’d go back to Maddie and… I don’t know, mend the colossal pile of ash of everything I managed to burn. Her trust carrying most of that weight.
“Noah!” Clara tramped out of the kitchen, apron tied around her waist and flavour dust sprinkled on her shoulder. Don’t kill. Do not kill. There are enough messes to last you years, you don’t need another. Especially not the corpse of the woman who birthed the girl you’re trying to reconcile with.
“Yeah?”
“Dinner, tonight, in the big hall. We’re having a few people over and I would like you and your brother to be there,” the ladle in her hand whipped around like a wand about to cast a spell, and she sighed. “It’s time this pack sees us as strong, happy. Capable. Not a crumbling mess unfit to lead.”
“Nobody’s saying that,” I said dryly and felt the wrinkle forming between my brows.
“They are. There’s been talk for days now, and it is time for damage control.” Damage control? Are the cleaners sweeping her out and mopping the floor of her reeking pride? That’s the only damage control I can see producing positive results.
“This is not a request, Noah. You will attend, you and your brother both, and we will display a united front to our people.” The headache started early, and I predicted it would grow into a migraine by the end of the night.
Wafting scents of greasy and pungent spices fanned out from the kitchen. From around the corner of the stove, I could see the chef glancing at Clara’s back, so I refrained from scrunching my nose, but I could hardly hold back the laugh bubbling up when I saw the wrinkles break out around his lips and his nose. If even the chef hates the smell, something’s majorly wrong.
But I stared at Clara’s stoic expression and tried to control my twitching shoulders wanting to roll back and put the bitch in her place. The air in her head needs a serious deflation.
“Will I see you there?”
“I thought it wasn’t a request.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want your word to confirm an understanding.” I took one step and cast an immediate shadow over her bony form. It’s clear that Clara never cared much for combat and strength training. Unlike many girls here, who were all athletically built due to hundreds of hours of training since they learned how to walk, Clara was skinny, all skin and bones, with no measurable strength. Except maybe in her hand from slapping her daughter around all her life.
The bitch raised her head, clearly unfazed by my invading her private space, but it wasn’t what covered her face or how her body reacted that interested me. It was how her heart picked up, beating faster than normal, and the bead of sweat that formed on her hairline. The smell of fear creeping out of her pores, desperation egging on her heart to run and hide. I was a threat, no doubt, and even if she wouldn’t admit it, her predatory brain couldn’t deny it. It sensed me, felt me. It knew that she was in danger. That I was able to, and would be very much delighted to snap her neck. Her wolf knew what stood in front of her, and probably covered in the back of her mind, begging Clara to step the fuck down.
I’m not certain that Maddie has any mental illness, but I’m positive that her mother does.
“We'll see you tonight,” my lips relaxed as the monotone words slipped out, and Clara blinked many times, bowing her head in response. It wasn’t until I was on the stairs that I heard her feet shift on the floor and her heart calmed from my absence.
“Madeline isn’t invited, please make sure she knows that.” She’s not inviting her daughter?
Let me see if i got this right: she wants me to attend a dinner with people whose mouths yap louder than a fucking seagel, spreading rumors and gossip around the pack, throwing their noses up at anyone who doesn’t feign the pretentious perfectionism of life that they do, without the one person who can deescalate the situation during the times when I want to throw a table at their heads?
Mybe Clara wanted a figh to break out, she wanted me to lose my temper and throw our guests out on their asses.
“You’re talking like a real Alpha,” Onyx snarked.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“Maddie is volatile, she can’t be trusted right now. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s the truth.”
“You’re agreeing with Clara, what fucking alternate reality have I stepped into?”
“Not stepped into. It's the one you created.”
When I walked into my room, not sure if I’d find Maddie soaking in a bath or sleeping on the bed, my palms grew moist. A constant turmoil was at war within me and it never settled until I saw her. Some people have a painting, or a book, that gives them comfort, something they stare at for hours or read until their eyes bleed. For me, it was her, I couldn’t carry her with me everywhere i went so i made do with the stolen glances and occasional sleeples nights when i had hours at my disposal to trace her face and the curve of her lips, the way her jaw tenses in her sleep and her eyelids flutter when she’s dreaming.
“Maddie?” not on the bed. The door to the bathroom was wide open, and the water was turned off. A wet towel hung on the chair in the corner and the carpet was damp by the half-open closet door.
Her smell lingered on the bed, the chair, the clothes she’d touched before she left, but it wasn’t her normal scent. It was poignant, seasoned with fear and anxiety.
“Onyx, find her or I swear to god-”
“She’s not in the house.”