Page 17 of Heart of the Rebel Mate (Wolf Billionaire #5)

CHAPTER 17

ELARA

T he safe house feels different today. The air is still thick with unspoken tension, but for the first time in days, it doesn't feel like it's suffocating me. The weight pressing against my ribs has lightened, just enough to let me breathe without feeling like I might crack open at the seams.

Maybe it's because I have something to focus on.

I run my fingers along the edge of the wooden table, the surface rough with age, splintered in places from years of use. It's been repurposed a dozen times over—war room, dining table, a place to lay out maps and trace the fault lines of our world. Today, it's where I start building something that can't be ignored.

A summit. Not just another desperate attempt at exposing the Council, not just another small rebellion drowned out by the next manufactured crisis. This has to be bigger. It has to be undeniable.

A meeting of factions—werewolves, human allies, those who have spent their lives straddling the line between compliance and resistance. Those who have suffered beneath the Council's control but have never had the strength, the resources, or the unity to push back.

We change that now.

The sound of footsteps pulls me from my thoughts. They are heavy and measured. Zara. She's always easy to recognize—purposeful, steady, never hesitant. When she steps into the room, she doesn't waste time with pleasantries.

"You're actually working," she says, leaning against the doorway. "Should I be concerned?"

I roll my eyes and gesture to the chair across from me. "Sit."

She does, but not before she snags the coffee mug from the counter, sniffing it cautiously before taking a sip.

"You're thinking big," she says, watching me over the rim. "I like it."

"It's not just about exposing the Council," I say, shifting in my seat. "We've done that before. We've brought them scandal, leaked classified information, undermined their authority in small ways. And look where that's gotten us."

Zara nods, setting the mug down. "They shift the narrative, absorb the damage, and keep going. You want to give them something they can't recover from."

"Not just them," I say, tapping my fingers against the table. "Everyone. The people who've been too afraid to speak up. The ones who've been sitting on the sidelines waiting for someone else to make the first move. If we do this right, we expose corruption while managing to shift the balance of power."

Zara leans back, studying me. "Then we need to be clear on what this summit is actually for."

We start mapping it out, moving ideas around like pieces on a chessboard. By the end, we have written out three bullet points, boldly. The page looks something like this:

Rallying influential voices.

If we want this to work, we need weight behind our claims. People with names and reputations, individuals the Council can't just dismiss as radicals or criminals. Academics. Lawmakers. Those who have lost too much to remain silent.

Creating alliances.

Werewolves have always been divided—by status, by bloodlines, by centuries of distrust and grudges that have nothing to do with the Council. That has to change. If we don't stand together, we fall alone.

Building momentum.

This can't just be a single event. It has to spark something that lasts. A movement, a foundation for real change, not just a rebellion that flickers and dies when the Council sends in their enforcers.

Zara jots down even more notes; her shorthand is efficient and sharp. She pauses, chewing the end of her pen. "You realize what you're doing, right?"

"What?"

She meets my gaze, unblinking. "You're organizing a revolution."

I swallow hard. It sounds too big when she says it like that. Too permanent. Too inevitable.

"I'm giving people a choice," I say instead.

She doesn't argue, but I see the flicker of something in her expression—approval, maybe. Or warning.

The door swings open, and Ethan steps inside, shaking the rain from his hood. His glasses are fogged up, and he pushes them onto his head with a sigh. "You would call a meeting on the one day it decides to storm."

I smirk. "I thought you liked dramatic entrances." Ethan was Adrian's right-hand man. We had invited him because of his tech savvy and the fact that I didn't feel like dealing with Adrian just yet.

"I prefer them when I get to be the dramatic one." He pulls off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair before flopping down beside Zara. "Alright. What are we doing?"

"Planning," Zara says, passing him the notes. "Elara's gone full revolutionary."

Ethan whistles low. "Damn. Took you long enough."

I roll my eyes but don't bother denying it. "We need to talk about security. The Council will know about this before we even send out invitations."

Ethan leans forward, suddenly all business. "Then we make sure they can't touch it. I can set up encrypted channels, scrub digital footprints, reroute communications so nothing can be traced back to us. But that's not the real problem."

I frown. "What is?"

"The location." He steeples his fingers. "You need somewhere neutral. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that doesn't scream covert rebellion the second people walk in."

Zara taps her pen against the table. "That's going to be a short list."

We sit in silence for a moment, each of us turning over possibilities in our heads.

Then, Ethan grins. "I have an idea."

I arch a brow. "Should I be worried?"

"Absolutely," he says, leaning back. "But trust me, it'll be fun."

Ethan's grin is the kind that usually comes with a bad idea wrapped in a good one. He leans forward, drumming his fingers on the table.

"There's an old estate on the outskirts of town. Used to be owned by some noble family way back, but the place has been abandoned for years. It's big, remote, and most importantly—off the Council's radar."

Zara frowns. "And you know this because...?"

Ethan shrugs. "I may have crashed a few underground poker games there before it got boarded up."

I breathe out slowly, considering the option. A location like that would be ideal—neutral and forgotten, a place no one is actively watching. But I've learned by now that when something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

"What's the catch?" I ask.

Ethan grins again, wider this time. "It's falling apart. No electricity, no security, and half the roof caved in after a storm last year. We'd need to fix it up before we can even think about using it."

Zara scoffs. "So your brilliant idea is to hold a summit in a condemned building?"

"It's not condemned," Ethan corrects. "It's just... in need of a little love."

I rub my temples. "We don't have time for major renovations."

"We don't need major renovations," Ethan counters. "We just need to make it functional. I can set up a generator for power, install some basic security measures, and secure the perimeter. Give me a week, and I'll have it ready."

A week. That's nothing. But Ethan doesn't offer guarantees unless he knows he can deliver.

Zara, however, remains skeptical. "And you're sure no one's keeping tabs on it? The Council has a way of knowing things they shouldn't."

"I'll do a sweep," Ethan says. "Check for surveillance, any signs of recent activity. If it's clean, we move forward."

It's a gamble. But then again, everything we do is.

I give him a nod of approval. "Do it."

Ethan gives a mock salute. "Consider it handled." He pushes back from the table, stretching as he stands. "I'll get started first thing tomorrow. Try not to start any revolutions without me."

Zara rolls her eyes. "No promises."

Ethan chuckles and grabs his jacket, heading for the door. He pauses before stepping out, glancing at me. "You're doing the right thing, Elara."

Something in his voice makes me falter. There's no teasing this time. Just quiet certainty.

Before I can respond, he's gone.

The room feels emptier without him, but the pressure of everything remains. I stare at the scattered notes on the table, the blueprints of revolution, as Zara called it.

Zara sighs, leaning back in her chair. "You look like you're about to spiral."

I press my fingers against my temples. "I just keep wondering... what if this isn't enough?"

Zara's voice softens. "It's never enough. Not at first. But it's a start."

I let out a slow breath and rise to hug Zara. The feeling of holding someone else tightly soothes me. She pats my head and I almost melt. I have missed human contact.

Zara is great. But at that moment, I wish I was hugging Adrian instead.

Ethan has been gone for a while. The storm has abated so now, there is only a light pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof. I welcome the cool breeze. Zara is sifting through notes, and for the first time in hours, I feel like I can breathe. But then the knock comes—three sharp raps against the door.

Zara stiffens. "Expecting someone?"

"No."

We exchange a look before she moves to check the peephole. A pause. Then she exhales through her nose.

"It's Cassian."

A headache curls behind my eyes. "Of course it is."

Zara doesn't open the door right away. Instead, she turns back to me. "Do you want to deal with him?"

"I don't think I have a choice."

She unlocks the door, stepping aside as Cassian strides in like he owns the place. His presence is like a fire in a small room—too much heat, not enough space. He barely glances at Zara before his sharp green eyes land on me.

"We need to talk."

I cross my arms. "We are talking."

"Alone."

Zara doesn't budge. "Not happening."

Cassian's jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he angles his body slightly toward me, lowering his voice. "Fine. Just a few minutes."

I glance at Zara, and she lifts a brow as if asking do you really want to entertain this? I don't, but I also know Cassian well enough to understand that if I don't hear him out now, he'll just keep pushing until I do.

"Let's step outside," I say.

Cassian follows me onto the small, crumbling balcony. The city stretches beyond us, the skyline jagged against the night. It smells like damp concrete and distant rain.

"You've been followed," I say without preamble.

His mouth curves slightly, not quite a smirk. "No, I haven't."

I fold my arms tighter. "You show up here, unannounced, expecting me to believe that? If the Council gets even a hint of this location?—"

"They won't." His voice is calm, assured. "I'm careful."

A thought rises before I can stop it. You weren't careful when you threatened to tear me apart with passion.

I push it down. I refuse to go there.

Cassian exhales and rubs the back of his neck. "I came because I think we want the same thing."

I give him a flat look. "Do we?"

He steps closer, lowering his voice. "You're planning a summit to unite people against the Council. That's exactly what my rebellion stands for."

I arch a brow. "Your rebellion? Cassian, this summit isn't about you."

"I never said it was." His voice is smooth, persuasive. "But you need allies. I have resources—fighters, informants, people willing to put their lives on the line for this cause. You could use them."

I glance back toward the door. "And what do you expect in return?"

His eyes darken. "I expect to be heard."

A muscle ticks in my jaw. "So that's what this is? You want a seat at the table?"

"I want to help you win."

The words linger between us, weighted with something unspoken.

"I don't trust you," I say finally.

Cassian tilts his head. "Because of the rebellion? Or because of something else?"

I don't answer.

"People like you...when they're given an inch, they take the whole damn continent."

"Elara, this isn't about me trying to take control of your summit. It's about survival. The Council is losing its grip, and if we don't act now, we'll lose momentum. I can make sure that doesn't happen."

The worst part is that he's not wrong.

But this summit can't be another power struggle. If Cassian wants to overthrow the Council just to install his own version of authority, then we're fighting for different things.

I shake my head. "This isn't a rebellion. It's a movement. It's about uniting, not replacing one form of control with another."

Cassian's expression hardens. "And you think the Council will just step aside because we ask nicely?"

"No," I admit. "But I think there's another way."

Silence stretches between us, tense and crackling.

Finally, he steps back. "Fine. Do it your way. But don't come to me when you realize you need more than words."

I lift my chin. "I'll take that risk."

Cassian studies me for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether to push further. But then he nods once, sharp and deliberate. "Good luck, Elara."

And with that, he's gone.

I linger on the balcony, staring out at the city, trying to slow my racing pulse.

Zara's voice floats through the open door. "That was fun to eavesdrop on."

I turn to find her leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk playing at the edges of her lips.

"I didn't let him hijack it," I say.

She nods approvingly. "No, you didn't."

Something shifts in her expression, something softer. "You know, you're getting good at this."

I let out a breath. "At what?"

"Leading."

The word sits heavy in my chest. Not unwelcome. Just unexpected.

For so long, I've fought against the idea of being someone people look to. But maybe—just maybe—it's not about being ready.

Maybe it's about stepping up anyway.

A smile drags itself across my lips. I let it. Then flash it at Zara.

"Let's get back to work."

It's midnight. The storm has reduced to a drizzle. Zara stretches her arms over her head, letting out a quiet yawn. "I should go check in with Ethan, make sure he's not spiraling into some paranoid tech-induced breakdown."

I respond, not really looking at her; my thoughts are already pulling me elsewhere.

She hesitates, then says, "Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"I won't."

Zara gives me a knowing look but doesn't argue. Instead, she squeezes my arm briefly before heading out, leaving the safe house quieter than it has been all day.

I sink into the chair by the window, staring at the cluttered table in front of me. Notes, maps, plans scrawled in sharp, determined lines—proof of everything I'm building.

And yet, doubt lingers.

I try to ignore it, but it's insistent, curling into the edges of my resolve.

It's not the summit I'm questioning. I believe in this, in what we're trying to accomplish. I believe that uniting people—werewolves, humans, factions that have never stood on the same side before—is the only way to break the Council's hold for good.

But Adrian...

I rub my temples, exhaling slowly.

I've spent so much time trying to push him out of my thoughts. Trying to stay angry, to remind myself of the lines he's refused to cross, the loyalty that keeps him tethered to a system I despise.

And yet.

He sees things I can't always see. And I need that.

But it's not just strategy that keeps him lodged in my thoughts.

I drag my fingers through my hair, staring at the map in front of me but not really seeing it.

I'm angry at him, at his stubbornness.

So I push it aside.

For now.