Page 105 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

The rebels gather in the clearing, a sea of faces—hardened, determined, some afraid, but all resolute. They know what's coming. They know what's at stake.

I step forward, inhaling deeply. This is it.

"Listen to me," I call out, my voice steady, carrying over the hush that has fallen over them. "This is the last stand. This is what we've bled for. What we've suffered for. The Council has taken everything from us—our families, our freedom, our mates. They have controlled our lives, stripped us of choices. But today, that ends."

A murmur ripples through the crowd, growing into a low growl, a collective fury simmering just beneath the surface.

"They think they own us," I continue, my eyes sweeping over them. "They think we're nothing more than animals to be controlled, to be put down when we don't obey. But we are more than that. We are stronger. And tonight, we prove it."

A roar erupts, fists raising, claws unsheathing, eyes flashing in the dim light.

I meet Adrian's gaze across the crowd. His jaw is clenched, his eyes dark with something unreadable. He nods, the slight movement sending a spark of warmth through my chest.

This is it.

The journey to the Council's stronghold is long, the terrain uneven and treacherous. We will have to break it in two. Twisted roots reach from the earth like skeletal hands, the damp leaves slick beneath our boots. The forest is alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, but none of them compare to the predators marching through it now.

I walk at the front, beside Adrian and Cassian, leading our people into the jaws of war. The weight of leadership settles over me like a second skin, pressing down on my bones, but I don't falter. They follow me because they believe in me. Because they believe in this cause.

The rebels move with quiet precision, their breathing measured, their weapons strapped tight. This isn't the first battle they've faced, but it might be the last.

Moonlight filters through the thick canopy, casting pale streaks across our path. The scent of damp earth and rotting leaves clings to the air, mixing with the sweat and steel of those marching beside me. Every step forward feels heavier, every crunch of foliage beneath our boots a reminder that we are walking toward something irreversible.

Cassian hasn't spoken much since volunteering for his role in the assault. His head stays low, his posture tense, a coiled spring ready to snap. I don't fully trust him—not after everything—but I understand him now. The Council took everything from him. He's driven by the same fury that fuels all of us. Maybe more.

"You sure about this?" I ask him quietly.

He smirks, but there's no humor in it. "Too late to back out now, isn't it?"

"It's not too late to make the right call," Adrian mutters from my other side, his voice edged with cold suspicion.

Cassian chuckles, low and dark. "Right and wrong don't exist in war, Adrian. Only winners and corpses."

The words sit heavy between us, and for a moment, all I can hear is the rustling of leaves in the wind, the distant hoot of an owl.

Adrian's jaw tightens, but he doesn't respond. Instead, he keeps his gaze forward, his fingers flexing around the grip of his weapon.

I exchange a glance with him, then let it go. There's no time for this. The battle ahead will test all of us soon enough.

We stop just outside the stronghold, hidden in the dense undergrowth. The walls loom ahead—high, fortified, lined with guards. The final obstacle.

The wind shifts, carrying the scent of blood from the Council's compound. It churns my stomach, sharp and acrid, a reminder of what we're up against. I exhale slowly, centering myself.

Adrian steps closer, his presence solid beside me, his warmth seeping into my side despite the chill in the air. He doesn't speak, just watches me, waiting.

I turn to him, my chest tightening.

There are no words left. Not now. Maybe not ever.

I grab the front of his shirt and pull him to me.

His mouth crashes against mine, fierce and desperate. His hands grip my waist, anchoring me as I press against him, needing to feel something real before the battle rips it all away.

For a moment, there is nothing but us.

The war, the blood, the weight of everything—we shut it out. His lips move against mine, his breath hot, his fingers tightening as if he's afraid to let go.

When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine.

---