Page 4 of Howl For A Kiss
Damon nodded, his analytical mind already calculating the political ramifications. This wasn't just about rebellion anymore—this was about the fundamental nature of their shifter society. His grandmother's healing knowledge stirred in his memory, ancient lore about the unique gifts that came from mixed heritage.
"What's Elena's current emotional state?" Damon asked, though part of him already suspected the answer.
"Volatile," Zoe replied without hesitation. "She's planning simultaneous strikes against multiple Council holdings. Suicide missions designed more for revenge than strategic advantage."
Logan's jaw tightened. "She needs guidance, not validation. Someone who can channel that rage into productive action."
Damon studied the papers spread across the table, his mind processing the implications. Elena Walsh represented more than just another rebel leader—she was someone fighting for fundamental change in a system he'd spent fifteen years enforcing. The irony wasn't lost on him.
"I'll maintain a low profile," Damon said, remembering his Alpha Kieran's earlier warning. "Beta status tends to make rebels nervous."
"Understandable," Logan said. "Most pack leadership represents everything they're fighting against."
As they finished their discussion, something stirred deep in Damon's chest—a restlessness that had been building for months as his wolf grew increasingly agitated with the status quo.
Two hours later, Logan's Jeep wound through the mountain roads that led toward Tidewater pack territory. Damon occupied the passenger seat, his imposing frame relaxed despite the tension crackling through the vehicle's confines. His eyes tracked the passing landscape with professional assessment, noting defensive positions and potential escape routes from pure habit.
"Elena's not going to trust easily," Logan said, his hands steady on the steering wheel as they navigated a particularly treacherous curve. "Especially not after losing Tyler."
"I heard from some other rebels that she's been betrayed before, but they didn't give any specifics. Sounds like trust doesn't come too naturally for her."
Damon absorbed this information. "How do I approach her?" Damon asked, surprising himself with the question's directness.
Logan's expression remained neutral, but something shifted in the vehicle's atmosphere. "Delicately."
"Speaking of delicate, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in her file photo," Zoe added with mischievous timing. "Long blonde hair and blue eyes with unusual gold circles around the pupils." She caught Damon's sideways glance at her. "Not to mention, she's very athletic, has excessive combat training, and is completely fearless in dangerous situations."
Damon's stoic exterior didn't waver, but something primal stirred beneath his controlled surface. He'd been alone for fifteen years, focused entirely on duty and responsibility. Romance had seemed like a luxury he couldn't afford, especially after losing his arranged mate at eighteen years old. But Elena Walsh sounded like someone who might understand the weight of leadership and the cost of difficult choices.
The forest grew denser as they approached Elena's territory, towering pines creating cathedral-like corridors of green shadow. Damon's wolf stirred with recognition—this was wild country, untamed and dangerous. Perfect environment for someone who lived outside traditional pack structure.
"There," Logan said, pointing toward a break in the trees.
The rebel safehouse materialized from the forest like something out of a tactical manual. A converted warehouse sat hidden among towering pines, its reinforced windows reflecting morning light while camouflaged netting broke up its structural outline. Defensive positions were expertly concealed, but Damon's trained eye spotted them immediately—Elena Walsh understood security.
"Impressive operation," Damon murmured, his respect for the rebel leader growing before he'd even met her.
Logan parked the Jeep in a designated area, its engine ticking as it cooled. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, as if anticipating something significant.
"Remember," Logan said as they climbed from the vehicle, "we're here to help, not to judge."
Damon nodded, but his wolf remained restless. Being asked to go on this mission unexpectedly and being at this place right now, it felt like the beginning of something. He just couldn't predict whether that something would destroy him or finally set him free.
A petite woman soon appeared at the warehouse entrance like a ghost materializing from shadow—her small frame moving with the fluid precision of someone accustomed to violence. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid, and her suspicious brown eyes swept over them before settling on Logan with recognition.
"Logan Cross," she said. "Heard you were coming."
"Maggie," Logan replied with a slight nod. "How's Elena holding up?"
The question hung in the air like smoke from a dying fire. Maggie's expression tightened almost imperceptibly.
"About as well as you'd expect after losing her anchor," she said, stepping aside to allow them entry. "Fair warning—she's operating on pure rage and caffeine. Not exactly conducive to diplomatic conversation."
The warehouse interior revealed itself as a masterclass in tactical efficiency. Reinforced concrete walls bore strategic markings that spoke of defensive planning, while weapons racks lined the perimeter with military precision. Computer stations hummed with encrypted communications, and the scent of gun oil mingled with pine from the surrounding forest.
Damon's analytical mind cataloged every detail automatically, but something deeper stirred within him—respect for the operation Elena had built from nothing. This wasn't amateur rebellion. This was professional warfare conducted by someone who understood the stakes.
"She's in her office," Maggie said, leading them through corridors that echoed with purposeful footsteps. "Try not to take it personally if she doesn't trust you immediately. Trust isn't exactly in abundant supply around here these days."
