Page 118 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

"We did this," she says, sweeping her gaze over them. "Not because we were stronger. Not because we had numbers. But because we refused to be afraid."

A murmur ripples through the crowd. Some nod, others shift uneasily, grief still weighing on them.

She continues. "The Council ruled us with fear. They broke our bonds. They took our freedom. And they thought we would never rise. But look around you—we have. And now, no one will ever live in fear of them again."

A cheer erupts, raw and desperate. A release of everything we've endured.

Elara's voice softens, though it still carries. "I won't tell you this victory was without cost. We have lost friends, family, packmates. But their sacrifice was not in vain. We honor them by building something better."

Silence follows. Then someone howls. Another joins in.

The sound spreads, rolling through the stronghold, out into the night—a song of mourning, and of triumph.

The battlefield is quieter now, but the air is heavy with blood and loss. I move past wounded rebels and lifeless bodies, the weight of sacrifice pressing down. Then I see him—Gary. He lies on a stretcher, pale, barely conscious, a bloodied bandage around his head. Just a kid.

He blinks up at me and somehow manages a weak smile, lifting a shaky thumbs-up. My chest tightens.

"You did good," I tell him, gripping his hand.

He shouldn't have been here.

"You're going to be fine," I promise, even as the cost of this war settles deep in my bones.

The bodies have been moved. The fires burn low.

Elara and I stand at the edge of the stronghold, watching the sky lighten at the horizon. Dawn.

I feel her shift closer, and without thinking, I wrap an arm around her. She exhales, her breath warm against my neck, before resting her head on my shoulder.

For a long time, neither of us speaks.

"I keep thinking this is some kind of trick," she murmurs eventually. "That they'll come back. That we'll wake up and still be fighting."

I tighten my grip. "They're done. And even if remnants try to rise, they won't have the power the Council had."

She nods, but I can still feel the tension in her. The grief she hasn't let herself feel yet.

I press a kiss into her hair, breathing her in. "We made it," I whisper.

She tilts her head up, and when our eyes meet, I know she understands what I'm really saying.

We survived.

We're still us.

And no one will ever be able to sever that bond.

As the sky turns from deep indigo to pale gold, I hold her closer, and for the first time in a long, long while?—

I let myself believe in a future.

CHAPTER 32

ELARA

The war is over, but the real work is just beginning.

In the weeks since the Council's fall, the rebellion has shifted from battle to governance. The bloodstained halls of the stronghold now serve as makeshift offices, filled with rebels combing through documents, arguing over policies, and trying to rebuild from the ruins.

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