Все главы GAME OF ALPHAS : Глава 151 - Глава 160

CHAPTER 151: A Grimy Past AffairLuna Elodie’s POVI chuckled, tilting my head slightly, disbelief colouring my tone. “I fail to understand you, Alpha Sam. What did you just say?”There was no smile on his lips, the usual constant smirk all but history, but his eyes held something deeper—calculated curiosity, or perhaps something far more dangerous, but I also saw—truth. He leaned back in his chair, swirling the remaining wine in his glass. “Excuse me?” He asked smoothly, “Is it about the part where Alpha Thomson had a son of such age or what were you talking about?” He chuckled a little, staring at his glass. “Maybe I took a little too much wine.”I narrowed my eyes, studying him. Was he playing games? Or was he being truthful? Sam was many things—a strategist, a manipulator, a man who never let his guard down—but a liar? No. Not unless it fully benefits him, and from what I could think of, this won’t benefit him even in the slightest; I would make sure of that. “And here I was fla

CHAPTER 153 : Not The Prisoner Third person’s POV:The bedroom was large and vast, bathed in the soft glow from the chandelier hung high from the room, seated perfectly on the ceiling as its glow cast radiant light against the deep, midnight-blue walls. The air smelled of fresh lilies and aged books, a mixture of both elegance and slight solitude, one not favored by one woman in particular. The same woman who stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the clearing beyond. She was still—almost eerily so—her fingers grazing the barricaded window as if reaching for something beyond it that couldn’t be seen, or someone. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, giving her the structure of a perfect portrait of how still she was. She was dressed in a simple white nightgown and nothing else. Her whole focus was outside the window, hating the fact she was kept locked like a prisoner, her sense of freedom inhibited by this barricade, one she so desperately wanted to claw at. “Do

CHAPTER 155: Not Forever Pyra’s POV:My breath caught in my throat as Maverick lips pressed against mine. It was a kiss unlike any I had ever experienced—wild, urgent, filled with want and raw intensity. His hands instinctively reached for the back of my head, gripping me tightly like he never wanted to let me go. I didn’t want it to end but I had to. I tried to move away, but Maverick held on tight, refusing to let me bulge out. His tongue slid into mine, massaging and dancing around it. I was strong, yes, but not that strong. I can resist many things but this mustn’t have been one of them. I couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, my lips parting to allow Maverick's tongue to deepen the connection. I didn’t know where I was again as everything melted away like candy; sweet, delicious, and short-lasting. It was only two of us, lost in the intensity of the moment. Maverick's grip on my head tightened, his fingers tangling in my hair as he devoured my mouth. I felt his passion, his d

CHAPTER 157: Sirens Of Reverse Harem Pyra’s POV:I reached my penthouse in nothing less than a few minutes, popping into the shower as soon as the doors closed behind me. I could feel the cold water running down my back, wetting my hair, and falling to the ground in loud platters. I ran a hand through my face, as one thought clouded my senses; Maverick. The mention of his name sent a flash of images running through my mind, causing a blush to form on my cheeks. One thing that was for certain is that I do not regret what I had done. No. I do not. I wanted everything that happened and even more, but what hurt me the most was that I had given myself to Maverick yet again on a silver platter. I ran a hand through my face, wiping as much water as possible but more kept falling. What was happening to me? I shouldn’t be this weak of feelings. It was only fleeting, and I’m sure this was what Maverick had always wanted. Then when he was done, he would only discard me like some used toy

CHAPTER 159: Mad Ambition Natalie’s POV:My reflection stared back at me in the full-length mirror, and I could hardly believe it was me. The woman, no, the stranger looking back at me was poised, elegant, and the perfect epitome of grace and beauty. I marveled at how perfectly she was dressed—unable to believe I was the one. They had dressed me—like I was some kind of important guest and not the prisoner they once held me as. I twirled, watching as the rich, deep red gown hugged my curves just right, its satin fabric catching the light every time I shifted. Everything was to perfection, focusing on even the tiniest of details. Hell, even the lace detailing at the neckline gave it a subtle vintage charm, while the soft swirl of the skirt added a playful contrast. My hair, once uncombed, wild, and filled with dirt, had been carefully curled and pinned into a sophisticated updo. A few loose strands framed my face gently, adding to the softness of the look.I smiled, remembering just