All Chapters of My Mate, My Bully: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

× Alvera × I’m sitting here, completely zoned out, with the voices of the elders droning on like white noise in the background. It’s hard to stay present when the room feels suffocating, and I swear the air itself carries this skepticism from everyone. My mind, however, is somewhere else entirely, spiraling. How in the world am I supposed to tell Trix about all this discontent? It’s one thing dealing with the elders, their disapproval is like an old wound that just keeps reopening. But the rumors I’ve heard about the general pack members, the older wolves who don’t have a direct hand in leadership but whose opinions still shape the collective vibe? That’s what’s really unsettling. When did this become a full-blown problem, and why didn’t I see it coming?I drag a hand through my hair, my fingers catching on knots I haven’t had the energy to brush out. The thought of having to break this to Trix feels like I’m about to throw a stone into a pond already teeming with ripples. How do

× Alvera ×Milda doesn’t flinch. “It’s not about love,” she counters. “It’s about stability. The longer Trix and Dixie remain together, the more divided we become. We’re trying to protect our way of life.”I take a steadying breath, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. “And you think threatening a raid, an act of violence, will protect our way of life?” I demand. “Do you hear yourselves? We’ve survived wars, rivalries, and more because we stayed united. And now you’re willing to tear us apart over your discomfort with change?”“We’re talking about survival,” an elder insists. “If Trix truly cared about this pack, he’d make the right choice.”The audacity of it almost knocks the air out of my lungs. I bite back a surge of anger, locking eyes with him. “The right choice?” I repeat, my voice dripping with disbelief. “Trix has done nothing but lead us with strength and fairness, and now you’re questioning his loyalty because he dared to follow his heart? Because he chose a ma

× Trix ×     I’m hurrying through the corridor, practically buzzing with anticipation.  My heart’s in overdrive, like I’m this close to actually sprinting. All I want to do is see Dixie, make things right, and finally explain everything that’s been keeping me from her today. I know she must be pissed, and, oh man, the thought of her sass is both terrifying and hilarious, but I have to smooth things over. But, just as I turn the corner, I see Alvera. She’s standing stiff, her arms crossed, and the look on her face... well, it’s not good. The urgency radiating off her is enough to stop me in my tracks. I can’t just walk past her, not when she looks this serious. So, with a sinking feeling in my gut, I slow down. “Alvera,” I start, but she cuts me off with a look that says this is important.  “Trix,” she says, her voice is low an

× Trix × “You okay?” I finally ask, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.He doesn’t look at me, just keeps staring out the window. “Yeah,” he mutters, but it’s hollow. A ghost of the Ryder I know. He shifts, wincing again, and I grip the wheel harder, anger simmering just below the surface. I hate this. I hate seeing him like this. I hate that I couldn’t protect him, that he had to suffer because of my inability to keep him safe.“Look,” I say, swallowing down the frustration. “We’ll get you checked out when we get back, okay? Make sure you’re—”“I’m fine,” he cuts in, finally turning to look at me. His eyes are dull, devoid of the spark that used to light them up. It makes my heart ache. “Just... tired.”I nod, even though I don’t believe him. He’s not fine, and we both know it. But I don’t push. Not now. He’s been through enough, and the last thing he needs is me pressing him for details he isn’t ready to share.As we drive through the darkened streets, I can’t help but won

× Trix × The night is beautiful. With the way the stars align, quiet in a way that almost feels sacred. The garden breathes around us, the cool air carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, but it’s the kind of peace that only makes the storm inside me more violent.  It’s dark. Still. I listen to Dixie, her voice soft, tracing through the air like smoke. Little stories, small worries, the kind of talk that doesn't need answers. Just her voice. Steady. Soothing. And for a moment, I almost forget the weight pressing down on my shoulders. Almost. I catch the glimpse of some movements between the hedges. Another figure, half-hidden in the moonlight, moving with that