Page 73 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

I shove the thought away.

But it lingers.

And that night, when sleep finally drags me under, I dream of my father.

Of him falling into an abyss, and me reaching, trying to pull him up, but it's?—

Too late.

I move swiftly, pressing my back against the cold metal wall of the corridor, my heart pounding in my chest. The air inside the facility is sterile, heavy with the faint scent of industrial cleaner and something metallic—like blood. The low hum of security systems vibrates through the floors. Every breath feels measured, every step a potential disaster waiting to happen.

Ethan signals from ahead, two fingers raised. Two guards around the next bend. I nod, gripping the tranquilizer gun tighter. It's a crude solution, but I'd rather not leave a trail of bodies behind. Zara is beside me, eyes sharp, expression taut. Adrian lingers near the rear, his presence like a shadow I can't shake. Even now, I feel his watchful gaze on me, assessing, weighing.

We move as one, timing our advance with the rotations of the overhead security cameras. The blue light from the motion sensors flickers, sweeping the hall. We pause in the blind spots. I count the seconds in my head, my pulse syncing with the rhythm of our careful footfalls. One mistake and we're done for.

Ethan makes the first move, stepping around the corner as the guards exchange a few words. Before either of them can react, he strikes one with a silenced dart to the neck. The second turns, reaching for his comm device, but Zara is faster, her blade flashing as she jabs it into the side of his neck, just deep enough to knock him out. The man crumples.

I exhale. "Move."

We drag their bodies into a dark alcove, stripping them of their keycards. Adrian keeps his focus on the corridor ahead, but I feel the tension in his stance. He didn't like that I came. He didn't like that I brought him. And yet here we are, working together in spite of everything.

The vault containing the files on mate bond manipulation is three floors down. We take the service elevator, silent but tense. A red light pulses faintly over the panel. Security override detected. Someone else is here.

Ethan curses under his breath. "We need to be fast. If someone trips an alarm?—"

The doors open before he finishes, and we're met with an empty corridor.

Too empty.

We move cautiously. The air feels different here, thick with something unspoken. A set of double doors looms ahead, a retinal scanner flashing beside them. This is it. I step forward, but Adrian pulls me back, his grip firm on my wrist.

"Something's wrong," he murmurs, voice low.

I open my mouth to argue, but then I feel it too. A shift. A stillness that doesn't belong.

Then—

Gunfire.

We drop to the floor as a shot ricochets off the metal paneling. I scramble behind a crate, yanking my gun free. A figure moves from the shadows, clad in full security gear. No, not a guard. The stance is too familiar. Too trained.

They fire again, but this time, Adrian moves. He lunges, a blur of movement, closing the distance faster than the eye can track.

Then a second shot?—

And the attacker collapses.

Silence.

I push myself up, gun still trained on the fallen figure. Adrian takes the mask off his face.

Isla. I recognize her face. Former Council operative. She was in the news for quite a long time for being a wanted woman of the council.

Adrian freezes.

She coughs, barely injured—his attack had been precise, controlled. Her lip curls as she looks between the two of us.

"Well," she mutters. "That could have gone better."

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