Chapter 96 Bullies, all the same

Chapter 96 Bullies, all the same
COLE

The damp midnight air bit through my jacket as we waited in the shadows of the abandoned logging mill on the pack’s eastern border.

Damon leaned against a rusted forklift, checking his watch every thirty seconds, while Nate paced a tight line through the gravel. Celeste was an absolute nightmare to communicate with. She never answered calls, treated burner phones like radioactive waste, went MIA for weeks at a time, and texted back in cryptic, half-formed sentences.

As usual, we were twenty minutes early, and she was half an hour late.

The crunch of heavy motorcycle tires on gravel finally broke the silence. The low, guttural rumble of a vintage Harley engine died down, and a lone figure swung off the bike, cutting through the moonlight.

She hadn't changed a bit. She still carried that leather-clad, hardened biker vibe, a faded denim vest over black gear, her silver rings clicking as she took off her helmet. Beneath the dark fringe of her hair, the deep scar running over her blinded left eye caught the pale moon, gleaming like a silver wire.

"Hello, boys," Celeste said, resting a hand on her hip.

I stepped forward immediately, my nerves raw. "Why the fuck did you take so long to answer us?"

Celeste’s lips curved into a dry, amused smirk. "Oh, someone's angry... What happened to your pretty face? Shit, which one are you again?"

Nate stepped between us, cutting through the banter with razor-sharp urgency. "Iris is in danger. We need your help."

Celeste rolled her good eye, pulling a pack of cloves from her pocket. "Yeah, no shit. Why else would I spend my Thursday night babysitting three dumb teenagers in a dirt lot?"

"No, you don't get it," Nate pressed, his voice dropping into a desperate, hollow register. "It's not about the Pureblood curse. It's our father."

Celeste paused, her lighter hovering inches from the clove. "What about Ernest?"

"He's abusing her," Nate whispered.

Celeste stared at him. "What?"

"He's abusing her." Damon shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped into the light, entirely devoid of patience. "Psychologically, physically and sexually. He finally realized she’s the spitting image of Ava, and he decided to make a move on her. He backed her into a corner where she has no choice but to comply. He’s a sick, predatory piece of shit, and we need your help to kill him. That's it."

The lighter clicked shut.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I had never seen Celeste look anything other than smug, powerful, and entirely untouchable. But right now, the color drained completely from her face. Her hands began to tremble, her good eye widening with a profound, sickening horror. She looked like she was about to burst into tears right in front of us.

The last time she had seen Iris, Iris had been a toddler wrapped in Ava’s arms. Hearing the reality laid bare like that shattered whatever composure she had.

"I told Ava..." Celeste choked out, pressing a shaking hand over her mouth. "I told her that man was a... Oh, God, that poor girl. How long has this been happening?"

"Recently," Damon said quietly. "A few months ago. He started dressing her in Ava's old gowns to parade her around for the social season... We think that’s when the obsession started. That's what Iris told us."

We hope so, I thought, the bitter acid burning the back of my throat. It was sickening that we had to actively pray the abuse hadn't somehow started when she was even younger.

"You're her mates!" Celeste suddenly snarled, her grief snapping into incandescent rage as she glared at the three of us. "There are three of you! You were supposed to protect her!"

"That's what we're trying to fucking do!" Nate roared back, his chest heaving as he pointed directly at me. "Why do you think Cole looks like that?! He caught Ernest kissing her! He attacked him, and Ernest locked him in an iron collar and starved him in a cell for a week! Our father is the Prime Alpha of this territory! He isn't just stronger than us—he controls the enforcers, the law, the money, everything! He keeps Iris compliant by threatening to butcher us, and he keeps us on a leash by threatening to tear into her!"

Celeste flinched at the raw fury in Nate’s voice. She dragged both hands through her dark hair, pacing back and forth in pure, frantic desperation.

"What do you need me to do?" she rasped.

Damon, Nate, and I exchanged a brief, stunned glance. Given how volatile she was, we had braced ourselves for an argument. Seeing her agree so instantly caught us completely off guard.

"We need you to do some witchcraft shit to weaken him," Nate said, stepping closer. "Make him vulnerable enough so we can kill him"

Celeste stared at him, her breath hitching. "Holy shit..."

"Can you do it or not?" I demanded, my patience hanging by a thread.

"I don't know if I can conjure enough power to bring down a fucking Alpha," Celeste stammered, shaking her head. "Fuck, I wasn't expecting this—"

"Well, then she’s useless," I spat, turning on my heel toward the SUV. "Let's go."

"I can try!" Celeste yelled, stopping me in my tracks. "Look, I’ll figure something out. I... I wasn't expecting this, but I'll figure something out. Whatever it takes to pull Iris out of that house. I just need a little time."

"Iris doesn't have time!" I fired back, stepping right up into her space. "Every day we drag this out is another night she spends locked in that house with him!"

"You don't need to knock him unconscious," Damon reasoned, his tone analytical and cold. "Just create an opportunity… Dampen his senses for three minutes. We'll do the rest."

Celeste took a slow, shuddering breath, trying to steady her hands. "Did you tell her? About her father? About her bloodline?"

"No," Nate replied flatly. "We agreed not to tell her."

Celeste frowned deeply. "Why the hell not?"

"Because if she finds out what she is, she might snap," Nate argued, crossing his arms. "Sure, she might tap into that power and kill Ernest herself, which sounds great on paper if she’s not arrested and tried for it. If she exposes her Pureblood lineage, she’s going to get killed just like her father."

"That is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard," Celeste snapped. "She has a far better chance of controlling the dormant strength if she actually knows what's happening to her!"

"She is emotionally unstable, Celeste!" Nate raised his voice. "You have no idea what she’s carrying right now—"

"She deserves to know!" Celeste cut him off, her scarred eye blazing. "It's her blood! It's her birthright! She spent her entire life believing her real father was a coward and a traitor! She deserves the truth!"

"No! It's too dangerous!" Nate stepped forward, his jaw tight. "She can't handle—"

"Handle what? The truth?!" Celeste challenged, stepping into his face. "Who the hell are you to decide what she can handle?!"

I watched Nate’s throat work as he bit down on his own tongue. I could see the words screaming behind his eyes: Because I'm her mate. He wanted to claim absolute authority over her safety simply because the universe had tied our souls together.

"I need to cast a new ward over her to conceal her powers and hide her," Celeste added, her voice dropping into a stern command. "She isn't a child anymore. I need her consent to do it."

The words struck a heavy, ugly chord inside my chest.

Celeste was right.

We were standing in the dirt, making unilateral decisions about Iris’s life, lying to her face, and hiding her own history from her. We told ourselves we were hiding the assassination plan to spare her the moral guilt, but deep down... we were terrified of what would happen if she wasn't helpless anymore.

What if she knew the truth and chose to sacrifice herself to protect us? What if she didn't need us at all?

We were keeping her in the dark because it gave us an illusion of control. Underneath all our grand declarations of being her protectors, we were doing the exact same thing we had done for twelve years: stripping away her choices, moving behind her back, and telling ourselves it was for her own good.

Bullies again, all the same.

"Alright," I spoke up, cutting through the silence. "We'll tell her about her bloodline."

Celeste looked at me, nodding firmly. "Good. And I want to talk to her myself."

"No. Absolutely not," Nate objected immediately. "Ernest keeps her on a leash, metaphorically speaking. We can’t risk him being suspicious of you, we need you to be able to cast that spell on him."

"I have to talk to her!" Celeste insisted, her voice breaking with raw emotion. "I’m the only real family she has left. The only person in her corner who isn't tied to this God forsaken pack of yours. She deserves to know about her father, she deserves to know there’s someone out here who actually cares about her. I want to see her."

I looked at Celeste, weighing the risk.

"Fine," I said. "You can talk to her. But there's a condition."

Celeste narrowed her good eye. "What?"

"You don't say a single word about our plan to kill Ernest," I said, my voice dead, steady, and unyielding. "And you pretend you don't know a damn thing about him abusing her."

Celeste blinked, clearly confused. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because the burden of killing our father belongs to us, not her," I replied, holding her gaze. "And Iris deserves the chance to meet the only family she has left on her own terms. It will be her decision to tell you about it or not."