Page 81 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

Cassian's nostrils flare. "Funny, coming from you. Considering how carefully you've been playing this, I'm starting to wonder whose side you're on."

I see red.

Before I know it, I've closed the distance, my fingers curled into a fist at my side. Cassian doesn't move, his gaze steady, almost daring me to make the first strike.

"You want to question my loyalty?" I say, my voice quiet, dangerous. "You, who has conveniently failed to mention just how deep your past ties with the Council run?"

Cassian's jaw tightens, but he doesn't back down. "That was a long time ago."

"And yet, somehow, I still don't trust you," I murmur.

The tension is suffocating. No one speaks, though I can feel the weight of everyone's stares.

Then—

"Enough," Elara's voice cuts through the silence.

She steps between us, not touching either of us but effectively severing the thread of violence stretching between Cassian and me. Her gaze flickers to mine, sharp with warning. "This isn't getting us anywhere. We don't have time for this."

I let out a slow breath, forcing my muscles to unwind. Cassian takes a step back as well, rolling his shoulders like he's shaking off the fight that almost happened.

"We revisit strategy in an hour," Elara says, leaving no room for argument. She doesn't wait for a response before turning and walking out.

Cassian lingers a beat longer before scoffing under his breath and following suit.

I don't move.

I stay in the war room long after everyone else has gone, staring at the plans scattered across the table but not really seeing them.

Cassian was testing me.

And I still don't know why.

It's late when I find Isla.

She's in one of the side chambers, sitting at a makeshift desk with maps and Council documents spread before her. The lantern beside her casts her sharp features in flickering gold, shadows shifting as she moves.

She doesn't look surprised to see me.

"Should I be worried?" she asks without looking up. "You showing up unannounced like this. Feels a little ominous."

I close the distance in a few steps, resting a hand on the edge of the desk. "We need to talk."

Isla exhales through her nose, finally glancing at me. "About?"

"You."

A beat of silence.

Then she leans back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. "You're not usually this direct. I'd almost say I'm flattered."

I don't rise to the bait. "How deep was your involvement with the Council?"

Something flickers across her face.

It's gone in an instant.

"You know the answer to that," she says carefully.

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