Page 10 of Heart of the Rebel Mate (Wolf Billionaire #5)

CHAPTER 10

ADRIAN

T he council chamber feels colder than usual, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and old leather. Shadows stretch across the long table, where the Council members sit, their gazes heavy, unreadable.

I should be focused.

But my mind keeps drifting.

To her.

To the way my name had slipped from her lips, breathless and raw, the way her body had curled against mine, heat and softness wrapped around me. Two days, and I still feel her under my skin.

Two days, and I still hear her sharp inhale when I pulled away, when I forced myself to leave.

Because I had to.

Because the moment the pleasure faded, the weight of what we'd done settled between us—too heavy, too complicated. Because she is Elara Thorne, and I am bound to the Council.

"Adrian." Councilor Monroe's voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and expectant. "You're late."

Her gaze is piercing, unreadable, but there's an edge to it—one that makes it clear she's not just irritated by my tardiness. Monroe has always been the strategist, the one who calculates every move, every alliance. She doesn't just seek compliance; she demands foresight and control.

I inhale, steadying myself. "I came as quickly as I could."

I take my seat, my movements measured, though I can feel the bond still pulling , still settling inside me, refusing to be ignored. It's not complete, but it's there, woven into my bones, demanding recognition.

Monroe doesn't waste time. "Elara Thorne's project?"

I keep my tone flat. "Progressing as expected. Permits are secured, partnerships are forming, and she's refining her architectural plans."

A murmur ripples through the chamber.

Monroe leans forward slightly, tapping manicured nails against the table's polished surface. "And what of her... alliances ?"

My jaw tightens. "Cassian Veyne remains a presence," I admit. "He's been pushing her to align the project with his rebellion, but so far, she hasn't made any overt moves."

Her lips press into a thin line, her gaze sharp enough to cut through steel.

"So far," she echoes, her tone carrying a weight that makes the hair on the back of my neck rise.

Because Monroe doesn't deal in maybes . She deals in certainties . And she wants one from me.

Councilor Daven clears his throat, his deep voice rumbling through the chamber. "This isn't just about Cassian," he says, leaning back in his chair, watching me like a man who already knows the truth but wants to hear me say it.

"This project itself is a threat."

Daven has never been subtle. He is a force, blunt and immovable, more focused on keeping order than playing political games. Unlike Monroe, he doesn't question if something will be a problem—he assumes it already is.

I hold his gaze, forcing my voice to stay even. "It's a sustainable city hub," I say. "An architectural initiative focused on coexistence and development. That's all it is."

Another lie.

Because everything has changed.

Because the moment I walked out of her apartment, my chest aching from something deeper than just the bond?—

I knew .

I should have never touched her.

Because now, I don't just want her.

I don't know if I can let her go.

Monroe's laugh is soft but biting. "You're either naive or willfully blind if you believe that."

Murmurs ripple through the Council chamber, their gazes pressing down on me.

"She's not just building a hub," Monroe continues. "She's creating a symbol—a rallying point for those who think they can exist without us. This isn't just a project. It's a threat ."

Daven leans forward, his sharp features shadowed in the dim light. "You've been close to her, Adrian. Closer than anyone here. Do you think she's not dangerous?"

My chest tightens. I force my expression blank. "Elara's intentions are genuine. She wants to create something meaningful, something that benefits everyone."

"Intentions mean nothing," Monroe snaps. "The road to ruin is paved with them."

Silence. Heavy. Pressing.

Monroe leans back, voice smooth but cutting. "We need to ensure this project fails before it gains traction."

"How?" I ask, though I already know I won't like the answer.

"We discredit her."

The words settle like ice in my chest.

"Leverage her past," Daven adds. "Dig into her history. Find something to turn public opinion against her."

The casual ruthlessness twists my stomach. Elara isn't the enemy. The thought escapes before I can stop it.

The chamber stills.

Monroe's gaze hardens. "She's a threat, Adrian. And if you can't see that, perhaps we overestimated your abilities."

A warning. A test.

I nod, forcing my voice steady. "Understood."

The meeting ends, the Council dispersing like vultures. I remain seated, fists clenched under the table, the weight of their orders pressing heavily on me.

Discredit her. Destroy everything she's built.

I walk through the dim halls, their words echoing in my mind.

Elara isn't a rebel. She just wants to build something better. So why is the Council so afraid of her?

For the first time, a new thought slams into me.

They're not trying to protect our people. They're protecting themselves.

And I don't know if I've been fighting for the wrong side.

As I step into the cold night, the stars barely visible against the dark, one thing is clear?—

If I'm not careful, they'll destroy her.

I won't let that happen.

The meeting had barely ended when I caught the sound of hushed voices nearby.

"...treating every new idea like a rebellion," someone muttered, frustration laced in their tone.

I slowed my steps, keeping my posture casual as I neared the corridor's entrance. Two men stood close, their conversation low but sharp.

"You don't just crush innovation because you're afraid of what it might mean," the first man continued. "Elara Thorne's project isn't a rebellion. It's a solution."

The other man scoffed. "A solution that undermines the Council's authority. You really think they'll let it stand?"

A cold weight settled in my chest, but I forced myself to keep moving, pretending I hadn't heard. Their voices faded as I stepped deeper into the hall, but their words clung to me like a thorn under my skin.

They weren't wrong. The Council wasn't interested in solutions unless they came from them. Anything else was a threat. And Elara's project? They saw it as a spark that could ignite something far beyond her intentions.

I pushed open the heavy double doors leading out to the estate's grand hall, needing air, needing space. But before I could make it far, a familiar voice stopped me.

"Adrian."

I turned, spotting Jonas standing near the balcony, a glass of whiskey in hand. His gaze was sharp, his expression unreadable.

Jonas had always been a shadow in the Council's ranks, never fully aligned but never openly defiant either. He was the kind of man who watched everything, spoke little, and somehow always knew more than he should.

I walked over, nodding in greeting. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Didn't expect you to stay inside that meeting as long as you did." He took a slow sip, his gaze flicking toward the city lights in the distance. "How's the assignment?"

"Complicated."

His lips quirked, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "Figured as much."

Silence stretched between us, the sounds of the gathering muffled behind the doors. Then, Jonas exhaled, shifting his weight. "You ever wonder why the Council is so obsessed with controlling people like her?"

I frowned. "They don't like unpredictability."

"Sure. But there's more to it than that." He turned toward me fully now, his expression unreadable. "You ever hear the name Lucas Thorne?"

The breath stalled in my chest.

"Elara's father," I nodded slowly. I had seen his name when going through Elara's files.

Jonas nodded. "He was one of the most respected urban developers of his time. Pushed for integrated communities, sustainable designs—ideas way ahead of his time. The kind that made the Council nervous."

I stayed silent, the pieces clicking together in a way I didn't like.

"He died in an accident," I said, though the words felt hollow now.

Jonas gave me a long look, then drained the rest of his whiskey. "Did he?"

A chill crawled up my spine.

Jonas clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "Be careful, Adrian. You get too close to something the Council doesn't like, and they make sure it disappears."

He walked off before I could ask more, leaving me standing there with his words echoing in my head.