The Alpha and The Enforcer [TATE]

Chapter 32

Ellie's P.O.V

I'd been in the gym for over an hour now. No distractions. Just me and the fourth punching bag I'd found—because the first three didn't survive.

These past few months haven't been easy.

With every problem, there's a punch.

I found out my wolf will be leaving me soon.

Punch.

Then I had to fight Iron Fist just to steal a witch's staff, hoping to save her—only to be double-crossed.

Punch.

I gained these fire powers I can't even begin to understand, let alone control.

Punch. Punch. Punch.

And now... I have a sister. A rogue.

Punch.

The worst part? My uncle knew. He knew all this time and never told me.

Punch. Punch.

He knew how much I wanted a sibling.

I paused, chest rising with sharp, uneven breaths. My knuckles throbbed, burning from the repeated blows. Sweat dripped down my temple, stinging my eyes. The gym air was thick with the scent of dust and old leather, and the dim overhead lights buzzed faintly above me.

When I was younger, I used to beg Uncle Ted and Aunt Mariah to adopt another baby. I was lonely. I craved connection. But they always said no—claimed they didn't have the time. And still, every year, I'd ask again, promising I'd help. That I'd take care of them. The answer never changed.

Maybe it wasn't about time.

Maybe they just didn't want to be reminded of the baby they turned their backs on.

Was I a reminder too?

But the real question—the one cutting deepest—

Was he ever going to tell me?

My vision blurred with fury as I drove my fist into the center of the bag, ripping through it. My hand punched straight into sand, which spilled out onto the floor with a dull rush, coating my boots in gritty dust.

I didn't replace the bag. What was the point?

And then, without thinking—I screamed.

A raw, guttural sound that tore from my chest. It echoed off the walls, shook the air, cracked something in me that had been held together far too long. My body trembled as exhaustion caught up to rage. I staggered back, dragging in broken breaths, the coppery taste of blood sharp on my tongue from biting down too hard.

And then I wasn't alone.

It was then I felt someone else in the room.

I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

Aunt Mariah.

I kept my back to her, jaw clenched, heart still hammering in my chest.

She stepped closer. I could hear the hesitation in her steps—like she was walking across broken glass. Then I felt her hand reaching toward my shoulder.

I flinched and stepped away before she could touch me.

"You shouldn't be alone right now," she said gently.

I laughed, sharp and bitter. "Alone's the only thing that feels honest lately."

"Ellie, please—"

"Don't. Don't try to soften this."