Page 66 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

I hit the ground hard, rolling, shielding the fragile creature in my hands. My breath is ragged, my arms scraped raw, but I don't let go.

When I finally open my fingers, the baby bird is trembling but alive.

My breath escapes my lungs in shaky exhales.

I force myself to my feet, wincing as fresh cuts sting along my skin. Step by step, I make my way back to the tree, climbing carefully until I reach the nest. Gently, I set the bird down. It huddles in the twigs, dazed but safe.

The mother will come back soon.

I climb down and let my back hit the ground, sprawled in the shade of the trees.

For a while, I just lie there, listening. The wind moves again. The birds start singing. The forest breathes in and out.

Maybe I should let Elara fight her own battles.

Maybe I should stop throwing myself into danger for something I can't fix.

But I know myself. I mean, I had just done everything in my power to rid a hawk of its food and rescue a baby bird. So, what was I going to do? Stay here and keep rescuing prey animals from predators? Do I take on nature and try to stop its perpetual rhythm?

And I know this?—

I'll always go back for her.

I groan and sit up.

The meeting.

Ethan had already secured the location I suggested to Elara. It was time to get back and do something.

With a deep breath, I rise and start the long trek back.

Ethan's spot isn't exactly a grand hall. It's a repurposed building, one that might've once been a small warehouse or an old lodge. The walls are stained with age, the wooden beams showing the scars of time—splintered, weathered, but standing strong. The windows are intact but dusty, streaked with the grime of neglect. Someone—probably Ethan himself—has made an effort to freshen it up. The scent of fresh paint clings to the air, mingling with the earthy scent of damp wood and old stone. A few flickering lanterns cast long shadows across the space, illuminating the mismatched chairs and the large wooden table at the center, a relic from another era. It's sturdy, like everything else in the room—patched together but resilient, much like the people who've gathered here tonight.

The tension is tangible but not hostile. A charged anticipation hums through the space, everyone waiting for the meeting to begin. This isn't the summit yet. This is just the leaders of different factions showing up to plan how the meeting will go. It's a test run, if anything. Before we pack a lot of people in here, we want to make sure they want to be here in the first place.

I stand near the back, observing. My senses are heightened—not just because I'm naturally alert, but because this moment matters. Sweat, the shift in body temperature, the subtle changes in scent—I take it all in. What I find surprises me.

No fear.

No simmering hostility.

Not even among the humans.

It's rare to have both species in a room without some underlying aggression, but this is different. There's wariness, of course, but it's cautious hope rather than mistrust. It tells me that whatever grievances are about to be aired, people have come here with the intention of finding a way forward.

Elara stands near the head of the table, poised but watchful. Her gaze sweeps across the room, not missing a single detail. I don't know how she does it—balancing control with quiet grace, her presence commanding without needing to demand. My eyes linger a beat too long, and when she finally looks my way, I shift my focus, settling into my usual unreadable stance.

The meeting starts early.

A human man, middle-aged with a sharp face and wary eyes, steps forward. His clothes are plain, but there's something authoritative in the way he holds himself.

"My name is David Laurent," he begins, his voice steady but edged with years of caution. "I speak for a group of humans who believe the way our governments handle our... relationship with werewolves is fundamentally broken."

A murmur of agreement from the human side of the room.

David continues, choosing his words carefully. "There's a lot of fear surrounding your kind. That fear didn't come out of nowhere, and I'm sure you'd say the same about us. The government uses that fear to keep us apart. It keeps humans in the dark, makes us believe that werewolves are a threat unless they're controlled, registered, watched. And it keeps you under their boot, forcing you into obedience to the Council. Neither of us benefit from this."

A few humans nod. The werewolves remain still, listening.

---