Page 3 of Howl For A Kiss
Tears flowed unbidden down her cheeks as rage consumed her rational mind. Her fist connected with the wall, plaster cracking under the impact. The pain felt good—real and immediate in a way that Tyler's death still couldn't penetrate.
"You should've brought more fighters," she snarled at her reflection in the dark window. "Should've covered every angle and every contingency."
A tactical map of the Council's headquarters covered one wall, marked with her careful notations. Elena swept it to the floor, papers scattering like autumn leaves. Tyler had helped her plan this mission, his calm voice countering her aggressive instincts. He'd trusted her judgment and followed her lead straight into that killing field.
Grief and guilt twisted through her system, feeding the volatile energy that had been building beneath her skin for days. She sat down at her desk and started frantically plotting her revenge against the Council. She wasn't going to just let them getaway with killing the one good thing that happened in her life. And she sure as hell wasn't going to sit here and pretend that this single tragic event didn't just change the whole course of her life as she knew it.
Before Elena realized, dawn had crept through her office window, finding her still awake and plotting out her perfect revenge strategy. She'd spent the night planning increasingly aggressive strikes against Council holdings, each scenario more violent than the last. Direct assaults on their outposts. Assassinations of Council elders. Forget stealth—she wanted them all to burn.
"Elena." Maggie's voice carried concern as the rebel healer approached with two steaming mugs. "You need to rest."
"Rest?" Elena's laugh held no humor. "Tyler's dead because I wasn't aggressive enough. Because I played it safe instead of overwhelming them with force."
Maggie set a mug on Elena's desk, her injured arm moving gingerly. "Tyler's dead because the Council murdered him. Not because of your tactics."
"My tactics got him killed." Elena's blue eyes blazed as she grabbed tactical gear from her weapons cabinet. "I'm calling an emergency meeting. We're hitting three Council outposts simultaneously tomorrow night."
"That's suicide." Maggie stepped between Elena and the door. "You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking perfectly clearly." Elena's voice carried lethal precision. "The Council expects us to retreat and to mourn our losses like good little rebels. Instead, we're going to show them what real aggression looks like."
Several rebels had gathered in the main room, their faces reflecting exhaustion and grief. Elena's presence commanded attention, but her wild-eyed intensity alarmed even her most loyal followers.
"Change of strategy," she announced. "No more stealth operations. No more surgical strikes. We hit them hard and fast with overwhelming force."
Murmurs rippled through the gathered rebels. This wasn't the calculated leader they knew—this was someone consumed by vengeance.
Maggie cleared her throat. "Elena, perhaps we should contact Lena Nightshade. The Silvercrest rebels might have insights about those ancient records we recovered. Logan Cross and Zoe Raymond have experience with Council operations."
Elena's initial instinct was to reject any suggestion that delayed her revenge. But the mention of the ancient records penetrated her rage-clouded thinking. Those records represented Tyler's sacrifice—his death meant nothing if they couldn't decode the Council's secrets.
"Fine." The word emerged harsh and clipped. "Contact Lena. But I want Logan and Zoe here in two days. And I want strike teams ready for deployment the moment we finish analyzing those records."
Maggie nodded, relief evident in her expression. "I'll reach out to their network immediately."
As Elena watched her rebels disperse, Tyler's memory pressed against her consciousness. He'd died believing in their cause and trusting her leadership. She wouldn't honor that sacrifice by retreating into grief—she'd honor it by bringing the Council's corrupt reign to a violent, decisive end.
The ancient record book lay on Elena's desk, its aged pages holding secrets worth dying for. Soon, Logan Cross and Zoe Raymond would help her unlock those mysteries. And then, the Council would learn what happens after they murder someone Elena loved.
TWO
DAMON
Dawn broke across Logan's cabin, the sunlight shining through the reinforced window of his living room. Damon Gray stood near the stone fireplace, his green eyes tracking every detail as Lena Nightshade spread papers across the wooden coffee table with reverent precision.
"Elena Walsh," Lena began, her violet eyes serious as they met Damon's steady gaze. "Tidewater pack. Twenty-eight years old, rebellion leader for three years."
Logan Cross leaned against the window frame, his dark auburn hair catching the morning light. "She's brilliant tactically, but reckless when emotions run high. Lost her second-in-command Tyler two nights ago during a Council headquarters infiltration."
"Tyler Morrison was her anchor," Zoe added, settling into an armchair beside the table. Her hazel eyes held sympathy as she described Elena's loss. "Without him, she's operating on pure rage and vengeance. Dangerous combination for someone with her tactical skills."
Damon absorbed this information with characteristic precision, filing away each detail like pieces of a complex puzzle. Elena Walsh. The name resonated through his consciousnesswith unexpected weight. Something about this mission felt different—more significant than routine rebel coordination.
"The ancient records she recovered," Damon said, his voice carrying the authority that came naturally. "What exactly did she find?"
Lena's expression grew grave. "I believe it's documentation of the Council's decision and reasons for the experimentation program, and quite possibly, even the reasons for the Severance itself. If so, this would be clear evidence that the Council has been systematically altering ancient bloodlines and orchestrating the systematic oppression of our people since the beginning of the Severance."
"Explosive material," Logan observed, his green eyes sharp with predatory interest. "The kind that could destabilize the entire power structure if properly utilized."
