[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 85: A bet?
The silence following Alex’s proposal was so thick it felt like it had physical weight, pressing down on the manicured grass of the De la Vega estate. I stood there, my hand still instinctively hovering near the mark on my neck, feeling the world tilt on its axis.
Alex stood in the center of the field, his chest heaving slightly, that manic, dilated light in his eyes making him look like a man who had just bet his last dollar on a spinning wheel. "How about a real challenge, Cassian?" he called out, his voice carrying easily to the gathered guests. "Unless you’re scared."
Cassian didn’t even look at him. He was methodically reloading his shotgun, the metallic snick-click of the shells sliding into place the only sound in the sudden quiet. "I don’t compete with amateurs, Hendrix," he said, his voice a flat, freezing line of indifference.
Alex’s smirk sharpened, turning into something jagged. "Funny. I thought you thrived on competition. Or is it that you’re only confident when you’ve already rigged the game?"
A few uncomfortable, whispered laughs rippled through the crowd. Mateo shifted in his seat, his eyes darting between the two men with the rapt attention of someone watching a train wreck in slow motion. Finally, Cassian looked up. He didn’t move his head, just lifted his gaze, his eyes so cold and dark they looked like twin voids.
"What are you suggesting, Hendrix?"
"A wager," Alex said, stepping forward. "Final round.... mounted shooting. Winner takes all."
Cassian’s expression didn’t change, but I saw his fingers tighten ever so slightly around the barrel of the gun. "And what exactly would I be winning?"
Alex’s gaze slid over to me. It wasn’t a look of affection or even lust; it was the look of a man eyeing a trophy he wanted to put on a shelf. "If I win, Noah comes to work for me. Full-time. Exclusively. I think he’s wasted as a glorified errand boy for Wolfe Industries."
"Excuse me, WHAT?"
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I stepped forward, my face burning with a mix of humiliation and white-hot fury. "I’m right here! Do I not get a say in this? I’m an employee, not a piece of furniture you can trade over a game of lawn darts!"
Alex ignored me completely. His eyes were locked on Cassian’s, waiting for the crack in the armor. Cassian’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in his cheek as his voice dropped to something lethal.
"And if I win?"
"Then I stay away from Noah. Permanently," Alex promised. "He stays yours."
Cassian stared at him for a long, tense moment. The air felt charged, like the seconds before a lightning strike. I stood there, my heart pounding against my ribs, looking between them. Part of me wanted to scream, to walk away, to tell them both to go to hell. But another part of me.... the part that was currently being vibrated into a state of hazy submission... was paralyzed. They were betting on me like I was a prize, a commodity, and as much as it made my blood boil, it made my skin feel electric.
"You better keep your word, Hendrix," Cassian finally said, his voice like the closing of a tomb.
"Oh, I always do," Alex replied with a sharp, jagged grin.
The setup for the final round was grueling. Ten targets were scattered across a wide, winding course. The riders had to maintain a full gallop while firing, judged on both their accuracy and their time. It was the kind of display that required total synchronization between man and horse, a level of focus that didn’t allow for a single distraction.
Alex went first. He mounted his mare with a frantic sort of energy, his movements clipped and fast. When the signal sounded, he took off like a shot. He was good... I had to give the cockroach that. He navigated the course with a desperate, high-speed intensity, hitting 7 out of the 10 targets. His time was a blistering 1 minute and 15 seconds. The crowd erupted, the socialites and aristocrats standing to cheer as he dismounted, breathing hard, his face flushed with a triumphant, wild light.
My chest tightened. He’s good. He’s really good. If Cassian lost... if I had to go with Alex... The thought sent a cold shiver through me. I looked at Cassian, expecting to see a flicker of doubt, but there was nothing.
He approached Obsidian, the massive black stallion huffing a cloud of steam into the afternoon air. Cassian didn’t speak. He didn’t look at the crowd. He just checked his gun, settled into the saddle, and became part of the horse.
Mateo raised the flag. I held my breath, my hands gripping the edge of my seat so hard my knuckles turned white. The flag dropped.
Cassian took off, and it was like watching a force of nature. He didn’t just ride; he commanded the field. Obsidian moved with a terrifying power, hooves thundering against the turf, but Cassian sat in the saddle with a stillness that was uncanny. He raised the shotgun with one hand, his eyes tracking the first target.
Crack. Hit.
Crack. Hit.
Crack. Hit.
He wasn’t even slowing down for the turns. He was galloping at full speed, his body leaning with the horse, fluid and deadly. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look away. Watching him was an exercise in pure, primal terror and attraction. He looked like a god of war, cold and efficient, clearing the course with a precision that made Alex’s run look like a practice lap. He reloaded mid-gallop without even looking at his hands, his focus entirely on the horizon.
Target 4, 5, 6, 7... all exploded into red dust. He was halfway through, and he was already crushing Alex’s time.
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. I was hyperaware of everything... the smell of the gunpowder, the heat of the sun, and the steady, insistent pulse of the plug inside me that seemed to be thrumming in time with the stallion’s hooves. It was too much. He was too much.
Cassian lined up for target eight. He was flying now, the finish line in sight, the victory practically his. He pulled the trigger.
Crack. The target shattered.
But then, everything went wrong in a heartbeat.
One of the course obstacles... a heavy wooden beam designed to frame the shooting lane... chose that exact moment to give way. Perhaps it hadn’t been secured properly, or perhaps the sheer vibration of Obsidian’s thundering approach was the final straw. With a loud, splintering crack, the beam snapped.
Large, jagged splinters flew into the air like shrapnel. Obsidian, as powerful as he was, was still a high-strung animal. The sudden noise and the spray of wood right in his line of sight sent him into a blind panic.
The horse reared, his front hooves clawing at the air, letting out a shrill, terrified whinny that cut through the silence of the field. Cassian, caught in the middle of a reload, was thrown off balance. He tried to grip the reins, but the horse bucked violently, a massive convulsion of muscle and fear.
I screamed, my hand flying to my mouth as I watched Cassian... the man who always seemed invincible, always in control... be launched from the saddle.
