Page 116 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

He counters every move, his strength unyielding, his speed unnatural.

Then—he catches Elara mid-strike.

A brutal backhand sends her flying, her body slamming into the stone wall.

I see red.

A snarl rips from my throat, my vision narrowing to one goal.

Kill.

I charge, fangs bared, claws aiming for his throat?—

But Tiberius is ready.

He twists, faster than I anticipate, and his claws sink deep into my side.

Pain explodes through me.

He doesn't stop. He shoves me back, twisting the claws deeper, smiling as I choke on my own blood.

"You were always the strongest," he says, almost wistful. "But strength means nothing without control."

I roar, forcing my body forward, ignoring the searing pain. I drive my knee into his ribs, breaking the hold, then sink my teeth into his shoulder.

Bone cracks.

Tiberius howls, but he doesn't go down.

Neither do I.

"Elara—now!"

She's already moving.

A blur of silver-and-black fur as she lunges straight for his throat.

Tiberius turns—too late.

Her jaws clamp down.

A brutal twist?—

And the Executioner falls.

After much snarling and striking on both sides, the battle is over.

The Council's stronghold, once an impenetrable fortress, now stands in ruin. The corridors stink of blood and burning fur, the air heavy with the cries of the wounded. Bodies litter the stone floor—ours and theirs. Victory should feel sweeter. But all I taste is iron.

We push forward, deeper into the heart of the stronghold, until we reach the chamber where the last of the Council's leaders have barricaded themselves. Heavy doors, once a symbol of their untouchable power, now hang half-broken on their hinges.

The rebels surround the chamber, their breath coming in harsh, exhausted pants. Some shift back into human form, gripping weapons scavenged from fallen enemies. Others remain in wolf form, eyes glowing, hackles raised, teeth bared.

Elara steps beside me, her fur matted with blood that isn't hers. Her golden eyes meet mine, and I see the same thing reflected in them: we're almost there.

I nod.

Then I kick the doors open.

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