Chapter 97 So confused

Chapter 97 So confused
I was still buried beneath the heavy duvet, half-asleep in the predawn chill, when the knocking started.

My eyes snapped open, my heart instantly leaping into my throat. A cold wave of panic flooded my bloodstream. God, what could Ernest possibly want at this hour?

I pulled the covers up to my chin and squeezed my eyes shut, holding my breath, desperately hoping that if I played dead, he would get bored and fuck off.

He didn't.

The knocking grew sharper, more persistent. I dragged myself out from under the blankets, knowing better than to test his temper. That was the sickening reality of my life now. I caught myself experiencing a bizarre, twisted wave of nostalgia for the old days—the days when he simply ignored my existence, shoved me into the freezing basement, and watched his sons treat me like an unpaid maid. It was entirely messed up that I actually missed the hell of my previous life compared to the psychosexual terror of my current one.

I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open, my chin raised. It was like opening the door for the boogeyman.

To my absolute surprise, it wasn't Ernest.

It was Nate.

He was leaning against the doorframe in his varsity jacket, a leather duffel slung over his shoulder, his hair slightly disheveled from sleep.

"Nate?" I blinked, rubbing the crust from my eyes. "What are you doing? It’s five in the morning."

"Damon and I have early morning drills before homeroom," Nate said, his voice quiet as he flicked his eyes down the dark corridor. "If you want a ride, we're pulling out in ten minutes."
"What?!" My jaw dropped. "Why didn't you tell me last night?"

"We'll be in the driveway," Nate replied dismissively, turning on his heel and walking down the hall without waiting for an answer.

I scrambled.

I bolted into the bathroom, frantically brushing my teeth with one hand while struggling into my pleated uniform skirt and wrestling a brush through my tangled hair with the other. I didn't care if I showed up to the academy looking like a hurricane had hit me—I would rather walk into class looking like a complete disaster than give Ernest a single excuse to drive me.

God, I missed having the pack driver around. I was pretty damn sure Ernest had granted poor Thomas an indefinite paid leave just to strip away another shred of my independence, ensuring I had fewer ways to leave the estate without him. But as annoying and unpredictable as Nate and Damon were, being in their car was infinitely better than being anywhere near their father.

I threw on my shoes, grabbed my bag, and ran downstairs, bursting through the front doors exactly nine minutes later.

Nate’s black SUV was idling near the gates, exhaust curling in the freezing mist. I yanked the back door open and threw myself onto the leather seat, panting for breath.

"Next time you two decide to leave at dawn," I snapped, slamming the door, "at least have the decency to give me a heads-up the night before!"

"Sorry," Nate muttered from the driver's seat, shifting into gear. "I forgot."

We rolled out of the iron gates and onto the winding mountain road. I leaned my head against the cold glass, letting out a tired breath. But after five minutes, I noticed the scenery outside wasn't the smooth highway leading toward the private academy.

We took a sharp right, banking onto an old county bypass that cut through the industrial district.

I sat up, frowning. "Nate, what are you doing? You just took the wrong turn."

Nate glanced at Damon in the passenger seat. "Should we tell her already?"

"Tell her what?" I demanded, looking between the two of them. "Hello? What is going on?"

"Let's pick up Cole first," Damon said calmly, staring straight ahead.

"Pick up Cole?" My head spun. "What? Where? Isn't he back at the house?"

Nate slowed the car, pulling up alongside a rusted, graffiti-covered metal bus shelter on the outskirts of the lower district. Sitting on the cracked bench with his hood pulled up was Cole.

"What the fuck is going on?" I breathed.

Cole stood up, pulled open the rear door, and slid into the seat beside me. I instinctively shifted over to give him room. He pushed his hood back, a soft, tired smile touching his lips.

"Hey," he murmured.

A small, automatic smile broke across my face. "Hey..."

Being in the car alone with Nate and Damon always made my skin prickle with nervous tension, but having Cole sitting right next to me made the heavy air in my lungs feel a little lighter.
Nate stepped on the gas, accelerating back onto the empty road. "Alright. The whole gang is here. Roadtrip!"

"What?!" I turned sharply to Cole, my patience completely evaporating. "Cole, what is going on? What are you guys doing?"

"We're going to explain everything, okay?" Cole said, holding his hands up defensively.

"Okay. Then explain. Right now!"

Cole rubbed the back of his neck. "So... in case you haven't figured it out by now, Nate and Damon aren't actually ostracizing us. Not for real."

Damon snorted from the front seat, turning around with a smirk. "Did you Google the word ostracize this morning just to use it now, Cole?"

"Shut the fuck up, Damon," Cole snapped, rolling his eyes before looking back at me. "Anyway. They've been treating me—and you—like shit so Ernest won't do to them... What he did to me."
The breath I had been holding for days rushed out of my lungs in a long, shuddering exhale.

A part of me had suspected it. But after twelve years of their cruelty, I hadn't dared to let myself hope. Knowing for certain that their recent scorn was just theater lifted a suffocating weight off my chest.

And then, almost immediately, a surge of hot, incandescent anger took its place.

"Why the fuck didn't you assholes tell me?!" I yelled, smacking the back of Nate's headrest.

Damon turned around, his expression deadpan. "Because we didn't want Ernest to suspect anything, Iris. We figured it was a hell of a lot safer for you if you didn't have to carry the burden of lying to his face on top of everything else."

I crossed my arms tightly, glaring at the floorboards. I was still furious, but underneath the irritation, their logic made sense. Ernest had a sick knack for spotting any flicker of light or relief in my eyes and extinguishing it on the spot. It was probably for the best that I had genuinely believed they hated me.

"Well, our nice little plan just went to shit," Cole said quietly, leaning closer to me. "Because now you're going to have to lie to Ernest. About a lot of things."

I frowned, looking at him sideways. "A lot of things? Like what?"

Nate cleared his throat, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. "Have you ever heard of the Purebloods?"

I stared at him like he had grown a second head. "Purebloods? As in... The fifteenth-century scammers?"

"Yes, exactly," Damon answered. "So, the ones in the history books were definitely scammers. A bunch of powerful families who fabricated a lie to seize political power. It blew up in their faces, and they got slaughtered. But it turns out... The bloodline was real. Just not theirs."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling an oncoming headache. "I am so confused right now."

"Purebloods actually exist, Iris," Nate said, keeping his voice dead serious.