Page 31 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

CHAPTER 11

ELARA

Betrayal is never immediate. It builds in whispers, in stolen glances, in the growing feeling that something isn't right—until the truth crashes down, leaving devastation in its wake.

I sit in my office, staring at the documents spread before me. The words are clear, and even though I do not want to believe it, the implications are undeniable. Someone leaked information about my project to the Council. Not just technical details, but everything: my communications with university leadership, internal funding strategies, even transcripts from planning meetings I didn't realize were being monitored.

My hands tremble as I turn the pages. Each one is another knife in my back.

The betrayal is absolute.

For weeks, I had known my project had drawn attention, but I believed it was within a safe boundary. It was academic—an architectural initiative meant to foster understanding, a symbol of what the university stood for. But this? This turns it into something else.

The Werewolf Council isn't interested in my designs. They see a threat, a movement against them. And worst of all, someone close to me—someone in my team—handed them the ammunition to justify my downfall.

I exhale sharply, pressing my fingertips to my temples; I try in vain to will away the pounding in my skull. The air in the office becomes stale and suffocating. I begin to feel lightheaded.

The overhead light flickers, buzzing faintly. I probably wouldn't have noticed that sound before, but now, every detail feels intrusive, like my space is no longer my own.

A knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts. I lift my head with a start as my pulse races with blind speed.

Professor Alden stands there, and his face is drawn. The usual warmth in his eyes is gone, replaced by a cold, heavy countenance.

"They've arrested Dean Calloway," he says.

The words don't register at first.

"What?" My voice is hoarse. I hadn't noticed how quickly my throat had gotten dry.

"Early this morning. The Council's enforcers took him from his home. They're charging him with stirring up opposition or something. To be honest, I don't think the details matter that much."

An icy weight settles in my stomach, like a steel anchor hitting the ocean floor with athunk!

Calloway had been my biggest advocate. He believed in my project when others hesitated. His support had given me the confidence to push forward. And now...

"They're making an example of him," I whisper.

Alden nods, his expression growing even darker. "And they're not stopping there. Elara, they're looking at you next."

The world tilts.

My office, the place that had always felt safe, now seems foreign. The walls feel too close, the air might as well be made of cotton balls. The bookshelves lining the far wall—filled with architectural theories, cultural histories of werewolves and humans, and annotated research papers—already look like relics of a past life. A life I might not have tomorrow. Dissent against the Council could be used to justify any type of "justice" on their part. What if all my possessions were seized as evidence or some other flimsy reason?

"I didn't do anything wrong." The words feel hollow even as I say them.

Alden exhales through his nose sharply. "Neither did Calloway," he says. "That doesn't matter to them."

I push to my feet, but my legs feel unsteady beneath me. "Who did this?"

Alden hesitates.

The pause is long enough to confirm what I already know.

"The leak came from inside," he finally says. "Someone on your team."

My stomach clenches. The room suddenly feels smaller, the walls pressing in, the flickering light overhead casting long, fractured shadows.

Someone I worked with. Someone I trusted.

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