Chapter 101 Blockhead Alpha
Alberto stormed into the training room, his boots thudding hard against the stone floor. He didn’t pause, didn’t look around. His hand shot out and grabbed a practice sword from the rack near the door its edge dull but heavy enough to satisfy the burn in his chest. He turned toward the center of the room, jaw clenched, eyes blazing.
Before he could take a single swing, Samael stepped directly into his path.
“Bad idea,” Samael said flatly, arms crossed over his chest. “If you’re thinking of channeling whatever’s boiling inside you into steel right now, you’ll break something. Probably yourself.”
Alberto didn’t lower the sword. “Move.”
Samael didn’t budge. “You’re not thinking straight.”
Just then, Darius appeared in the doorway, his expression grim. “Fernando’s finally lost it,” he muttered, stepping inside. “Told Eliana Alberto was his mate. Right in front of her. Like he just tossed every political strategy into the fire.”
Samael snorted. “Not shocked. He’s been acting like a total nutjob since the moon cycle turned.”
Alberto’s grip on the hilt tightened. His knuckles whitened. “I need some space,” he said, voice low but steady. “If you don’t mind.”
Samael studied him for a long moment, then glanced at Darius. Neither spoke. After a beat, they both nodded and backed away, leaving the room without another word.
Alone, Alberto exhaled sharply through his nose and began.
He moved fast, faster than usual. Each strike was sharp, brutal, precise. He wasn’t practicing forms. He was punishing the air. Every thrust, every parry, every spin carried the weight of everything unsaid, everything buried. The clang of steel echoed off the walls, rhythmic and relentless.
He didn’t hear her come in.
But he felt her presence.
Instinct took over. In one fluid motion, he spun, sword raised, ready to strike.
Only to freeze.
Eliana stood there, arms folded, lips curled in a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. She looked unimpressed. Unmoved. Dangerous.
“Go ahead,” she said coolly. “Train all you want. Swing that blade until your arms fall off.”
Alberto lowered the sword slightly but didn’t step back. “What do you want?”
She took a slow step forward. “Just came to remind you of your place. Starting tomorrow, when I win the mate’s duel match and I will win your whole existence becomes hell.”
Her voice dropped, venom lacing every syllable. “I’ll make sure you beg for death before I’m done with you.”
Alberto stared at her for a long moment. Then, to her clear surprise, he took a step forward.
“I did watch you try,” he said evenly.
Eliana blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” Alberto said. “I watched you try. To charm him. To manipulate him. To act like you belonged here. And I watched you fail. Repeatedly.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You insolent little—”
Before she could finish, Alberto cut in. “Also, you kind of stink.”
She froze. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah,” he said, wrinkling his nose slightly. “Your breath could kill a rat at ten paces. If you don’t mind, maybe excuse yourself before you poison the whole room.”
For a heartbeat, Eliana looked utterly speechless. Her mouth opened, then closed. Color rose in her cheeks not from embarrassment, but from fury.
She took a sharp breath, clearly preparing to unleash something scathing.
Alberto didn’t wait. He turned his back on her, raised the sword again, and resumed his training as if she’d never been there.
The first strike cracked through the air like a whip.
Eliana stood there a moment longer, fists clenched at her sides, eyes burning with cold fire. Then, without another word, she turned and strode out of the training room, her heels clicking like gunshots against the stone.
Alberto didn’t look up. He didn’t stop. He just kept swinging harder, faster until his muscles burned and his lungs screamed for air.
Because tomorrow, the duel will end and announce its winner.
And he wouldn’t be watching from the shadows anymore.
Alberto lay sprawled on the training ground, his body limp, his breathing shallow. Sweat had long since dried on his skin, and his limbs felt like lead. His stomach twisted with hunger, but he didn’t move. He just stared at the ceiling, eyes dull, mind drifting somewhere far away.
The door creaked open.
Samael stepped in, holding a tray with a bowl of broth, bread, and a small cup of water. He knelt beside Alberto and set the tray down gently.
“Eat up,” Samael said, voice softer than usual.
Alberto turned his head slowly. “I could’ve gone to the dining hall if I wanted food.”
Samael gave a dry chuckle. “You know you can’t. Fernando ordered you to starve for two days. And doubled your shifts. Starting tonight.”
Alberto closed his eyes with a sigh. “My heart should be blamed for falling for a blockhead alpha.”
Samael laughed quietly, but genuinely. He dipped a cloth in the water and wiped the sweat from Alberto’s forehead, then gently brushed his thumb across Alberto’s dry lips.
Without a word, Alberto shifted, dragging himself closer until his head rested in Samael’s lap. He didn’t speak. Didn’t look at him. Just stared blankly at nothing, as if the weight of everything had finally pinned him in place.
Samael ran his fingers lightly through Alberto’s hair. After a moment, he asked, “What’s your plan for tomorrow? You can’t afford to use your Keeper’s power during the duel. If you do, Fernando will know the truth that you’re Beau and that might result to disqualification.”
Alberto was silent for a beat. Then, softly, “I already talked to Mira about it. She said she’ll send you to me.”
Samael nodded, just as the door swung open again.
Darius walked in, his expression unreadable. “There you are,” he said, glancing between them.
Alberto started to sit up, but Samael pressed a hand gently on his shoulder and pulled him back down. “Stay,” he murmured.
Darius raised an eyebrow. “What were you two talking about?”
Samael answered without hesitation. “His wounds flared up again. I told Mira to prepare medicine for him.”
Darius studied them for a second, then nodded. “Good. He looks like hell.”
“He feels like it too,” Samael said, keeping his tone light. “Go get that salve from the east cabinet. The one with the silver lid.”
Darius hesitated, then turned and left without another word.
As soon as the door closed, Alberto let out a slow breath. “He suspects something.”
“Maybe,” Samael said. “But he won’t say anything. Not yet.”
Alberto closed his eyes again, still resting against Samael’s leg. “Tomorrow changes everything.”
“It already has,” Samael replied quietly.
They sat in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the torches outside and the distant echo of footsteps in the corridor.