Page 119 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

It's a different kind of fight now—one waged with paperwork and strategy instead of claws and teeth. But it's just as vital.

I sit at a long, scarred table, old records spread before me. The Council documented everything—not for transparency, but for control. Every birth, every death, every alliance, every betrayal. A meticulous web of power and secrecy that let them reign for centuries.

Zara tosses a thick folder onto the pile of damning evidence. "Bribery, intimidation, secret deals... I knew they were corrupt, but this?" She shakes her head. "They had their claws in everything."

Ethan flips through another ledger, then exhales sharply. "Here's something worse."

I take the paper he slides across the table, my pulse spiking as I skim it.

Alliances between the Council and powerful human organizations. Corporate sponsors who profited from our oppression. Politicians who turned a blind eye for favors. Even rogue werewolf factions who betrayed their own for power.

"They were selling us out," I murmur.

Zara clenches her jaw. "Not just to humans." She taps another document. "Some of our own were in on this."

Bile rises in my throat.

Ethan shakes his head, speaking volumes.

If we expose this, we'll solidify our new government and force the outside world to reckon with what's happened here.

Zara exhales. "We need to be careful. If we move too fast, the wrong people could bury this."

"We'll be strategic. But we won't hide it. Not like they did."

The Council might be gone, but their ghosts still linger—in the systems they built, in the way we were forced to live.

If we don't tear out every last root of their corruption, we risk the same cycle repeating.

And we can't let that happen.

Despite the chaos of the rebellion, I haven't forgotten where I started. I was a lecturer before I was a leader, or a fighter. And now, with the Council gone, it's time to return to my roots.

The university had remained neutral during the war, but it hadn't been untouched. Some professors had supported the rebellion in quiet ways—shielding students, passing along intelligence. Others had been forced into silence, afraid of what speaking out might cost them.

The air smells of old books and ink, of a life I thought I'd left behind.

Professor Adewale greets me first, his eyes sharp behind thick glasses. "Elara," he says.

"I need to talk to the faculty," I tell him. "We can't afford to be separate anymore. The university and the rebellion—we need each other."

Adewale studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Come with me."

I follow him into a lecture hall, where a small gathering of professors and administrators wait. Some flinch when they see me. Others straighten their backs. They know who I am now—not just Elara, the architect and lecturer, but Elara, the rebel leader.

I don't waste time. "The Council controlled every aspect of our society," I say, meeting their eyes. "They used their power to suppress knowledge, to shape history in their favor. We have a chance to change that. But we can't do it alone."

A woman in the front row—Dr. Stone—speaks up. "What are you asking of us?"

"Education was always our greatest weapon. We need to rebuild, infrastructure and minds alike. We need to teach people what really happened...to make sure this never happens again."

Adewale speaks. "You're talking about rewriting history."

"I'm talking about telling the truth."

The university is a crucial part of the new world we're building.

Later that night, Adrian's hands are warm on my skin, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he presses me gently against the cool stone wall of our chamber. The day's exhaustion weighs on me, but his presence ignites a fire that burns away the fatigue. We've spent hours unraveling the tangled mess of our government, dismantling the systems the Werewolf Council had twisted to control us. Now, in this moment, it's just him and me, raw and unguarded.

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