Page 117 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

Inside, the last of the Council huddle together—a handful of them, their fine robes tattered, their faces streaked with sweat and filth. The high-ranking enforcers who had been protecting them are dead. They have nothing left. No army, no power.

And yet, they sneer.

"You think you've won?" snarls Ephraim, one of the Council elders. His lips curl back over yellowed teeth, his face twisted with rage. "You think this changes anything?"

Elara steps forward before I can. "It changes everything." Her voice is steady, but I can hear the undercurrent of fury.

Another Council member, Laurel, spits on the floor between us. "Whelps playing at leadership. You don't understand the forces at work here. Kill us, and you'll see what rises in our place."

I exchange a glance with Elara. We knew this moment would come. The decision. The final act of this war.

The rebels shift restlessly behind us, the hunger for vengeance thick in the air. The Council has ruled with an iron fist, severing bonds, killing without mercy. Some of the rebels—many of them—want blood.

I take a slow breath. No.

That's not the kind of leader I want to be.

"They live," I say, voice hard as stone. "They will face judgment. Not execution."

A murmur of protest ripples through the crowd. Elara stiffens beside me, but she doesn't contradict me. She knows why. We fought this war to end their tyranny, not replace it.

"You expect us to let them breathe after what they've done?" someone growls from behind us.

I turn to face them. "We show them what justice looks like. The world they ruled with fear? It's gone." I meet their gazes, one by one. "We are not them."

A heavy silence falls.

Then, one by one, the rebels lower their weapons.

The Council members are dragged from the room, their wrists bound, their mouths still spewing venom.

"This isn't over!" Ephraim howls. "You'll regret this! We are the foundation of the packs! Without us, there will be chaos!"

Elara watches as they're pulled from the chamber, her expression unreadable. When she speaks, it's quiet, but absolute.

"The only thing collapsing here is your reign."

The adrenaline fades, leaving only the wreckage of what we've won.

Rebels move through the stronghold, tending to the wounded, collecting the dead. The fires we set to smoke out the Council burn low now, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

And Cassian...

His body lies where he fell, surrounded by those who fought beside him. Blood soaks his torn shirt, his face peaceful despite the violence of his end.

He died saving us.

Guilt digs its claws deep into my ribs. We fought together for so long, even when I didn't trust him completely. And now he's gone.

Elara kneels beside him, fingers brushing his cooling skin. Her face is tight, her shoulders stiff. She won't cry here. Not yet.

I place a hand on her back, grounding her. She exhales slowly, then rises to her feet.

There's still one more thing left to do.

Elara steps onto the crumbling dais in the middle of the hall, the throne room where the Council once ruled. The rebels gather around, faces streaked with blood and soot, their bodies battered but unbroken.

She doesn't need to raise her voice to command their attention. When she speaks, they listen.

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