Page 90 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

The way I hadlet him take mein the dark, against the wall, in the midst of destruction.

I shake the thoughts off, shoving them deep.

Cassian is missing.

Not physically—he's here, moving through the wreckage like the rest of us—but he's distant. Withdrawn.

I watch him from the corner of my eye as I issue more orders, directing efforts to secure the eastern wing of the base. He lingers near the edge of the ruins, away from the main group, his expression unreadable.

During the battle, his movements had been erratic—ruthless one moment, hesitant the next. Something in him is unraveling, but he's keeping it close to the chest.

I find him alone near the remains of what was once a storage room, sifting through broken crates like he's looking for something.

"You disappeared," I say.

Cassian glances up. "I was gathering intelligence."

I fold my arms. "Convenient excuse."

His jaw tenses. "You think I ran?"

"I think you've been acting strange since Isla joined us. And in the middle of the fight, you hesitated. That's not like you."

Cassian exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair. "You're reading too much into things."

I step closer. "Am I?"

His gaze flickers—just for a second—but it's enough. He's hiding something. But this isn't the time to pry it out of him. Not yet.

So I let it go.

For now.

But as I look around at the broken remnants of everything we built, the weight of our loss presses down on me.

I had fought. I had survived. I had given in to something primal, something forbidden, even as my people bled.

And now, I will have to live with it.

I square my shoulders.

Because whatever happens next, Iwon'tmake the same mistake again.

The tension in my shoulders refuses to loosen, even as the dust settles. The rebellion survived, but at a cost. We lost people. We're exposed. And the weight of leadership presses down harder than ever.

I should be with them—should be strategizing, helping, doing something useful. Instead, I find myself walking these quiet halls, my mind heavy with everything I should have done differently.

But then?—

I barely make it three steps down the corridor before Ifeelhim.

Adrian.

I don't know if it's the mate bond or my own damn instincts, but I feel his presence before I see him.

He's leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed, the dim torchlight casting sharp shadows across his face. His shirt is loose, the bandages from his injuries peeking out at the collar, but he looks steadier than before. Stronger.

Something in me unravels.

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