Page 59 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

A meeting of factions—werewolves, human allies, those who have spent their lives straddling the line between compliance and resistance. Those who have suffered beneath the Council's control but have never had the strength, the resources, or the unity to push back.

We change that now.

The sound of footsteps pulls me from my thoughts. They are heavy and measured. Zara. She's always easy to recognize—purposeful, steady, never hesitant. When she steps into the room, she doesn't waste time with pleasantries.

"You're actually working," she says, leaning against the doorway. "Should I be concerned?"

I roll my eyes and gesture to the chair across from me. "Sit."

She does, but not before she snags the coffee mug from the counter, sniffing it cautiously before taking a sip.

"You're thinking big," she says, watching me over the rim. "I like it."

"It's not just about exposing the Council," I say, shifting in my seat. "We've done that before. We've brought them scandal, leaked classified information, undermined their authority in small ways. And look where that's gotten us."

Zara nods, setting the mug down. "They shift the narrative, absorb the damage, and keep going. You want to give them something they can't recover from."

"Not just them," I say, tapping my fingers against the table. "Everyone. The people who've been too afraid to speak up. The ones who've been sitting on the sidelines waiting for someone else to make the first move. If we do this right, we expose corruption while managing to shift the balance of power."

Zara leans back, studying me. "Then we need to be clear on what this summit is actually for."

We start mapping it out, moving ideas around like pieces on a chessboard. By the end, we have written out three bullet points, boldly. The page looks something like this:

Rallying influential voices.

If we want this to work, we need weight behind our claims. People with names and reputations, individuals the Council can't just dismiss as radicals or criminals. Academics. Lawmakers. Those who have lost too much to remain silent.

Creating alliances.

Werewolves have always been divided—by status, by bloodlines, by centuries of distrust and grudges that have nothing to do with the Council. That has to change. If we don't stand together, we fall alone.

Building momentum.

This can't just be a single event. It has to spark something that lasts. A movement, a foundation for real change, not just a rebellion that flickers and dies when the Council sends in their enforcers.

Zara jots down even more notes; her shorthand is efficient and sharp. She pauses, chewing the end of her pen. "You realize what you're doing, right?"

"What?"

She meets my gaze, unblinking. "You're organizing a revolution."

I swallow hard. It sounds too big when she says it like that. Too permanent. Too inevitable.

"I'm giving people a choice," I say instead.

She doesn't argue, but I see the flicker of something in her expression—approval, maybe. Or warning.

The door swings open, and Ethan steps inside, shaking the rain from his hood. His glasses are fogged up, and he pushes them onto his head with a sigh. "You would call a meeting on the one day it decides to storm."

I smirk. "I thought you liked dramatic entrances." Ethan was Adrian's right-hand man. We had invited him because of his tech savvy and the fact that I didn't feel like dealing with Adrian just yet.

"I prefer them when I get to be the dramatic one." He pulls off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair before flopping down beside Zara. "Alright. What are we doing?"

"Planning," Zara says, passing him the notes. "Elara's gone full revolutionary."

Ethan whistles low. "Damn. Took you long enough."

I roll my eyes but don't bother denying it. "We need to talk about security. The Council will know about this before we even send out invitations."

---