Page 89 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

We're covered in blood, surrounded by death. The battle still rages around us. But all I can think about isher.

How she looked at me before. How she held me. How badly I wanted to claim her.

How badly Istill do.

The battle isn't over.

But something between us has already begun.

CHAPTER 24

ELARA

The stench of blood and scorched wood clings to the air. Smoke lingers in the corners of the rebellion's hideout, curling in through cracks in the stone walls. Every breath tastes of ash and sweat. The sounds of shifting rubble and quiet groans echo through the ruins, underscoring the grim reality of what remains after the attack.

The rebellion is still standing, but only barely.

This was supposed to beourstronghold. A safe haven.

We had spent months building this, planning for this, fortifying every inch to withstand an assault. The hours of strategy meetings, the sleepless nights, the careful maneuvering—it was all supposed tomatter.But the Council tore through it like it was nothing. Like our effort, our blood, our sacrifices, meantnothing.

Fury curdles in my stomach, but beneath it, there's something worse—guilt.

Because when the battle was at its most chaotic, when my people needed me the most, I had given in.Let go.

The moment with Adrian still clings to me, wrapping around my thoughts like a vice. The heat of his hands, the burn of his mouth, the desperate way we had taken each other like nothing else in the world mattered. And for those fleeting, reckless moments, nothing had.

I had wanted him more than I had wanted victory.

And now we are left with ruin.

I move through the wreckage with purpose, picking my way over fallen beams and broken stone. Every part of me aches from the fight, muscles tight with exhaustion, but there's no time to dwell on it. The damage to our base is worse than I expected. Some structures are beyond saving—gaping holes in the walls, ceilings caved in. But other areas, though compromised, can be stabilized if we act fast.

"Get that side reinforced!" I call out to a group of rebels struggling to lift a fractured beam. "If the rest of the wall goes, we'll lose this whole section."

They hesitate for half a second before obeying, and I recognize the look in their eyes. Doubt, slowly shifting into something else—trust.

I've spent so long trying to prove myself through words, through defiance and speeches. But here, now, knee-deep in the wreckage, I can see that action speaks louder. I don't just order—I lift alongside them, press my hands against the grit and the blood, shoulder the weight of our survival. And they see it. Theyfeelit.

A sharp movement catches my attention.

"Over here!" someone shouts.

A section of collapsed stone shifts, revealing a figure trapped beneath the wreckage. A man—one of ours—his breathing shallow, his leg twisted unnaturally beneath the debris.

I kneel beside him without hesitation. "Stay with me," I say, voice firm but steady. "We're getting you out."

His fingers grip my wrist, desperate, and I nod once before turning to the others. "We need to move this carefully. If we shift it too fast, it could crush him."

They listen. They trust. And together, we pull him free.

This is what leadership looks like. Not just standing at the front of a battlefield, but pulling people from the rubble. Holding their weight. Making sure they stand again.

But as we work, as I issue orders, my mind keeps betraying me.

Flashes of the fight. The way I hadshifted,not because I had to, but because Iwantedto. Because something deep inside meneededto let go, to become something wild and unshackled.

And Adrian. His eyes on me. The way he looked at me like I was his world, his war.

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