All Chapters of My Mate, My Bully: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

× Dixie דWow,” I murmur, trying to process it all. “That explains a lot, actually.”He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah?”“Yeah,” I say softly. “I mean, even back in high school... you were always so upfront. So... intense . I used to think it was just because you were, I don’t know, an arrogant jerk.”He snorts. “I probably was.”I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “No, I get it now. You weren’t just being a jerk. You were scared. Scared of what people would think if they didn’t see you as... perfect.”Trix doesn’t say anything, but I can see the way his jaw tightens. Like I hit too close to home, but I’m not wrong.“I never wanted to be perfect,” he says after a while. “I just didn’t want to be a failure.”Real. Because, honestly, I get it. That fear of failure? That constant pressure to be more than what you are? Yeah, I know that feeling all too well.“I feel that,” I say quietly. “I’ve always felt like I was never enough. Like no matter what I did, it

× Trix ×     I move a little closer to her, not enough to make it weird, but close enough to really look at her. I mean, really look at her.  Her hazel brown eyes are staring at the mural, and the way the light hits them makes them even more intense. They shift between shades of brown, gold, something I can’t even name and I realize I’ve never actually taken the time to notice her like this.  Her jawline is sharp but soft at the same time, fitting weirdly into her face, but in a way that works.  It’s like a puzzle piece you didn’t think would fit, but then it clicks into place, and suddenly everything makes sense. She turns to me, probably sensing me staring, and raises an eyebrow.  “What?” she says, “You planning on sketching me now or something?” I smirk, shaking my

× Trix × Still, I have to ask. “Was this really necessary?”She glances back at me, rolling her eyes as if I’m missing something obvious. “Maybe not for you, but I needed to get out. I needed to feel free, not have to deal with that... cage .”She says the word like it’s poison, and it stings a little. The “cage.” I know what she’s talking about. The pack house. Our life. Us. Everything I’ve done to try and protect her, she’s still seeing it like some prison.“I thought we were past this, Dixie . I just want you to be safe. That's all.”She stops walking, turning to face me. There’s fire in her eyes, the same fire that always seems to rise up when we hit this wall. “Safe? You think keeping me locked up is keeping me safe ? I need to breathe, Trix! I need space. I can’t live like that.”I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck nervously . “It’s not about locking you up, Dix. It’s about making sure you don’t get hurt. You remember what happened last time you were out here?”She crosses her

× Trix ×     I'm sorry but I can't do that. I can’t stop. My mind’s spiraling, every worst-case scenario playing out like a horror movie in my head.  “Or what if... what if Ryder’s already dead, and they’re just pretending he’s alive to mess with us? They could be using his identity, sending fake messages to lure us in. We could be walking right into a trap—” “Trix!” Alvera cuts me off, her voice sharp. “He’s not dead. And no, they’re not sending fake messages. We’ve confirmed his capture through multiple sources. Now can you please calm down?” It is not my fault to think of this. And trust me, I do not wish that he is.  “You’re sure? Like, completely sure?” I just had to ask.  “Yes, Trix. Completely sure,” she says through gritted teeth. “You’re acting like this is some grand conspiracy when it’s rea

× Trix ×     I get it, I really do. They’re all scared. Scared of the Nardoos. Scared of what comes next. But this? Sending me off to some fancy masked ball like I’m auditioning for the next season of “Werewolves of Wall Street” isn’t the answer. “Okay, let’s pretend for a second that I do this,” I say, my voice cutting through the chaos and sarcasm in the room. “Let’s say I attend this ball, masked, guised, whatever. What happens when they find out who I am? What happens when they recognize me?” The elder doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s why it has to be foolproof. Your disguise, your cover story, wverything needs to be airtight.” “And who’s going to help with that?” Drenna asks, her tone is too sharp. “Because last time I checked, none of us here are professional spies.” “Or tailors,” someone adds in from the back. Ap