Page 88 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

Claws slash through flesh, fangs sink into throats. Blood sprays. She never hesitates, never missteps. Every movement is calculated. Every strike lands true.

And the rebels see it.

Theyfeelit.

A new energy surges through our side, a rallying cry rising from the chaos. They fight harder, faster, pushing back against the Council's forces.

Cassian, locked in a brutal fight with an enemy alpha, spares her a glance. Recognition flickers in his expression, something grudging, something undeniable.

Respect.

I don't waste time. My own shift tears through me, fire burning along my spine as my body changes. My muscles expand, my limbs elongate, my senses sharpen to an almost painful degree. The world explodes into new colors, new scents, newawareness.

The battlefield is a living, breathing thing.

Ismellthe coppery tang of blood thick in the air, canhearevery heartbeat thundering like war drums, canfeelthe vibrations of claws scraping against stone, bodies colliding, bones breaking.

I throw myself into the fray.

A loyalist comes at me, teeth bared, but I'm faster. I duck under his strike, hook my claws into his ribs, andrip.He howls, crumpling beneath me.

Another attacks from behind. I spin, meeting him mid-air. My jaws clamp around his throat, and I squeeze until his windpipe gives, until his body slumps in my grasp.

But the Council's forces are relentless.

They fight like zealots, fueled by something beyond orders—beyond fear. Their strikes are meant to kill, every claw aimed for an artery, every lunge meant to tear flesh from bone.

The rebels fight differently.

They're brutal, yes. But they're also measured. They don't kill if they don't have to. They disarm, disable, subdue. They fight not for bloodlust, but for freedom.

The contrast is striking.

And then?—

A massive wolf—bigger than the others, stronger—lunges for Elara.

I see him too late.

She twists, but he'sfast.His claws rake down her side, deep and cruel, slicing through fur and flesh.

She snarls, stumbling back, but the bastard is already going in for the kill.

I seered.

Imove.

I hit him like a wrecking ball, the force of my attack sending us both rolling. His teeth snap at my throat, but I dig my claws into his shoulders and throw my weight down, pinning him beneath me.

I don't hesitate.

Itearinto his throat, hot blood flooding my mouth as I rip through tendons and muscle. He gurgles, chokes, thrashes—then goes still.

The moment he collapses, my gaze snaps to Elara.

She's breathing hard, blood staining her fur, but her golden eyes meet mine.

And for a moment—just a moment—there's nothing else.

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