Page 96 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

The weight of the revelation slams into me like a punch to the ribs. I read the words again, searching for a loophole, some indication that this is part of the plan. But the way it's written—the careful, deliberate language—this isn't a ruse.

It's something else.

Something worse.

Betrayal.

I clench my jaw, forcing the snarl down my throat. Isla notices, her gaze flicking between me and Elara. "What is it?"

Elara doesn't answer. Her fingers curl around the paper, knuckles white.

Instead, she folds it, tucks it into her jacket.

Her expression is unreadable, but I know what she's thinking.

We need answers. Now.

The war room feels suffocating, the weight of the stolen intelligence pressing down on me like a vice. I grip the intercepted transcript tighter, the paper crumpling under my fingers. Cassian's name stares back at me, and the more I think about it, the more the pieces start to fit in ways I don't like.

It's not just this document. It's the way he's been acting—distant, hesitant, watching Isla too closely during the battle, like he was trying to decide something. It's the way he disappeared right when we needed him most.

And then there's the captured Council operative.

He'd been half-conscious, bloodied from the ambush, but when we started pressing for information, Cassian's name was the first thing out of his mouth.

I don't believe in coincidences.

I stalk through the hideout, my pulse pounding. The rebellion's forces are still regrouping from the attack, bodies moving like ghosts through the corridors, but I don't stop until I find him.

Cassian stands in the dim torchlight, speaking low with Isla. When I enter, she takes one look at me and steps back.

She knows.

Cassian turns, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "Something on your mind?"

I toss the transcript onto the table between us. "Tell me why your name is on that."

He doesn't react at first, just picks up the page, skims it. His fingers don't even twitch. "Where did you find this?"

"You already know the answer," I growl. "The better question is, why the hell is the Council talking about you like you're one of them?"

Isla shifts uncomfortably, but she doesn't leave. Good. I want her to hear this.

Cassian exhales sharply, setting the paper down. "You're jumping to conclusions."

"Am I?" I step closer, letting the anger rise to the surface. "Because it's looking a hell of a lot like you're making deals behind our backs. Negotiating. With them."

Cassian's jaw tightens, but he doesn't deny it.

My hands curl into fists. I trusted him. Elara trusted him. And now?—

"What exactly are you accusing me of, Adrian?" His voice is calm, but there's an edge to it now, sharp and dangerous.

"I think you're playing both sides." I don't hesitate. "I think you're putting your own interests ahead of the rebellion, and I think you've been withholding intelligence—intel that could have saved lives."

His eyes darken. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You hesitated in battle. You've been acting strange since Isla joined us. And now I find this? Tell me, Cassian, exactly how long have you been making deals with the people we're trying to destroy?"

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