Page 123 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

As the sun dips lower, the council gathers for the final vote. The hall fills with representatives from every pack, voices murmuring in anticipation. For the first time in years, leadership will be chosen not by force, but by consensus.

Names are called, votes cast. One by one, the new council members step forward, until only two names remain.

"Elara Thorne."

She stands beside me, poised and confident, her hazel eyes shining with quiet determination. Applause ripples through the room as she accepts her position.

Then—

"Adrian Kane."

A hush falls. I take a slow breath before stepping forward, my gaze sweeping the room. This is what we fought for—a future where leadership is earned, not taken. Where power is balanced, not hoarded.

I meet Elara's gaze, a silent understanding passing between us.

This is only the beginning. But with love, unity, and the willingness to heal, I know we can rebuild.

EPILOGUE

ELARA

The lecture hall hums with the soft rustle of papers and the low murmur of students filing out, their discussions still animated from today's lesson. I watch them go, their enthusiasm contagious. A year ago, I was leading a rebellion, fighting tooth and claw to tear down an oppressive system. Now, I stand here, shaping minds, guiding the future, teaching werewolves and humans alike how history shapes power—and how power can be reclaimed.

I lean against the desk, taking a deep breath. The air smells of newly-printed books and copier ink, the scent grounding in its familiarity. I never thought I'd return to this life, to the quiet rhythm of lectures and research. But I'm not the same woman I was before. None of us are.

As I gather my notes, a familiar presence fills the doorway.

"Ready to go?"

Adrian leans casually against the frame, arms crossed, his smirk as infuriatingly charming as ever. His golden-brown eyes lock onto mine, amusement flickering in them. He's still dressed in his usual combat gear—dark pants, a fitted shirt that does nothing to hide the raw power beneath. The warrior in him hasn't faded, but there's ease in his stance now, a lightness that wasn't there before.

I smile. "You're early."

He shrugs. "Couldn't help myself. Watching you teach is kind of sexy."

I roll my eyes, but my heart swells. Despite everything, despite the war and the blood and the scars we both carry, we made it through.

And we're still us.

The werewolf wrestling grounds are alive with energy, the air thick with the scent of sweat, earth, and the sharp tang of excitement. Wolves in both forms spar in the training pits, some in serious combat, others engaging in lighthearted matches. Laughter echoes through the clearing, a sound that still feels precious after everything we lost.

Adrian and I step onto the packed dirt, and immediately, eyes turn toward us. Some watch with admiration, others with mischief. They've seen us fight together before, know the undeniable competitive streak we share.

Adrian stretches, rolling his shoulders. "Care for a match?"

I arch a brow. "You sure you can handle me?"

He grins. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

Without warning, I lunge. He's ready for it, sidestepping just in time, his hands catching my waist and twisting me mid-air. I shift, my body flowing into my wolf form in a seamless movement. My paws hit the ground, and I launch again, forcing him to shift as well.

We crash together, a blur of fur and muscle. He's stronger, but I'm faster. My teeth snap at his neck, missing by inches. He retaliates, using his weight to pin me, but I twist out, rolling back onto my feet. Around us, the pack whoops and cheers.

Adrian growls playfully. "You're getting cocky."

"And you're getting slow."

He lunges, and this time, I don't dodge. I meet him head-on, our bodies colliding with raw force. We tumble, shifting back mid-fall, breathless and tangled in the dirt. His body is solid above mine, heat radiating from his skin. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breath mingling with mine.

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