Chapter 33 Celeste scheme

Chapter 33 Celeste scheme
Chapter 33
Annie’s POV

Celeste and I were sitting in the living room of Riley’s pack house.

The room was enormous, almost too big for comfort. The walls were made of dark wood, polished smooth, with stone accents that carried the smell of the forest inside. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, sending flickering shadows across the room. Outside, the night was quiet, but I could hear the distant rustle of leaves and the soft padding of paws on the ground. Wolves moved with grace and purpose, their eyes sharp even in the dark.

Some of them glanced our way and bowed their heads slightly. Others smiled, as if they recognized something in me that went beyond bloodlines or pack hierarchy. One older wolf, his fur silver at the edges, even placed his fist over his chest in a mark of respect before continuing on his patrol.

I noticed everything. I always did.

Celeste noticed it too.

She shifted on the couch, crossing her legs slowly. Her posture was calm, controlled, as if she owned every inch of the space she occupied. Her lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her smile never did. It was like a mask hiding the real expression underneath—calculated, measured, and sharp.

“Do you see how they look at you?” she said lightly, almost teasing. Her voice carried across the room, soft and smooth, like silk. “Everyone here respects you.”

I kept my gaze on the fire, watching the flames twist and dance. The warmth should have comforted me, but instead, it only reminded me of how exposed I felt, sitting here with her.

“I earned it,” I said calmly, keeping my voice steady.

Celeste laughed softly, tilting her head in mock disbelief. “Earned it?” she repeated. Her eyes glimmered with amusement. “You’ve not even been here that long, Annie. Yet they treat you like you belong.”

I finally turned to face her, my jaw tight. “I do belong,” I said simply.

Her smile tightened. A flash of something darker passed over her features. I saw it, even if she tried to hide it.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. “Back home, people barely noticed you. You were always… quiet. Invisible. But here? Look at them. They greet you like you’re someone important. Like you’re special.”

Her words sounded sweet, almost admiring, but I could feel the poison underneath. I could smell it. Every word she spoke carried a warning I didn’t want to acknowledge, a threat wrapped in silk.

“I trained,” I said, forcing my words calm and firm. “I fought. I bled. Respect doesn’t fall from the sky. I earned it every single day.”

Celeste’s shrug was slow, lazy, as if my words didn’t even matter. “Still, it’s strange,” she said softly, eyes scanning the room. Then she focused back on me. “You’re not an Alpha’s daughter. You’re not even from this pack. Yet… here you are. Everyone treats you like you’re part of something bigger.”

Something tightened in my chest. A warning bell rang inside me. I had seen this before—her subtle digs, her calculated words meant to unsettle me.

I stood up slowly, deliberately, trying to keep my movements calm. “What do you want, Celeste?”

She blinked at me, innocent on the surface, like she had no idea why I would ask. “Nothing,” she said softly. “I’m just… talking.”

But I knew her too well.

Celeste never just talked.

When she spoke this much, this calmly, it was always a setup. Planning. Waiting. Calculating. She had a way of planting doubt, of twisting words just enough to make you question yourself. And I refused to be the kind of person who fell into her traps.

I moved to the window, pretending to check the view outside. The night was dark and silent, the forest stretching endlessly. My heart was pounding now, fast and hard, echoing in my chest. I didn’t trust her. I never had. Not when we were younger, not now.

Her voice followed me, smooth and soft, like smoke curling around a candle flame. “You’ve changed, Annie. You act strong now. Important. Confident.”

I turned sharply, my hands clenched at my sides. “I am strong,” I said, my voice firm and steady. But inside, I felt the tension like fire under my skin.

For a moment, silence settled over us. Even the fire seemed to quiet down, the flames flickering less, like they were holding their breath with me.

Then, for the briefest moment, I saw her eyes darken. Something cold and sharp flashed across her gaze, and I instinctively stepped back. But just as quickly, her expression softened, her smile returning, calm and careful.

“I hope you don’t forget where you came from,” she said, almost gently.

I met her gaze without flinching, holding her stare. “I hope you remember who I am now,” I replied.

She didn’t respond.

Her silence was louder than any words could have been.

I left the living room, my chest tight, my steps purposeful. Each footfall on the wooden floor felt heavy, as if I was carrying more than myself—my pride, my history, my hard-earned respect. I didn’t want her words echoing in my mind. I didn’t want her subtle poison taking root in my thoughts.

I reached the hallway and paused, leaning against the wall. The house was quiet now, too quiet. I could hear my own breathing, slow but steady, as I tried to calm the tension that Celeste had left behind like a shadow in the room.

This pack was my home now. I had worked for every ounce of respect I had here, and I wasn’t going to let her or anyone else undermine that.

One thought burned clear in my mind, relentless and unyielding:

Celeste was up to no good.

And this time, I wouldn’t let her win.

I straightened my shoulders and walked down the hall, each step deliberate. I would watch her. I would be ready. Whatever she was planning, she wouldn’t catch me off guard—not again.

The fire in my chest burned as brightly as the flames in the living room behind me. I had survived before. I would survive again.