Page 21 of Heart of the Rebel Mate (Wolf Billionaire #5)

CHAPTER 21

ELARA

T he cave walls feel closer than usual, the air thicker, pressing down with the weight of too many voices, too many agendas clashing. The rebellion's war council gathers in the main cavern, a long, makeshift table cluttered with maps, notes, and crude sketches of the Council's compound. A cluster of lanterns casts shifting shadows, the dim light barely cutting through the tension.

"You're trusting her too much," Cassian says, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. "She could be feeding them information right now."

Across from him, Isla leans back in her chair, arms crossed, a slow smirk curving her lips. If Cassian was hoping for contrition, he's picked the wrong opponent.

"You're right," Isla says smoothly. "I could be feeding them information. I could also be sitting here, in this damp hellhole, risking my life to help you people bring the Council down. Which one do you think is more likely?"

Cassian's fingers twitch on the edge of the table. I can almost see him biting back a sharper retort.

"Enough," I say, though I doubt either of them is listening. "We have a summit in less than a week. The Council will be gathering its most powerful leaders in one place. We don't have the luxury of infighting."

Adrian exhales sharply, his arms folded across his chest. He hasn't spoken much since the meeting started, but I can feel the energy coming off him, restrained, seething.

"If you're so certain she's trustworthy, then you're ignoring the obvious," he says, his voice low and edged. "The Council doesn't let operatives defect without consequences. Either she's more valuable to them alive, or we're all idiots for letting her sit at this table."

The words sting more than I want to admit. Not just because he's questioning my judgment—but because I can't tell if it's Isla he doesn't trust, or my ability to see clearly.

"She's here because we need her," I say, keeping my tone level. "You don't have to like it, but you damn well have to work with it."

Adrian holds my gaze for a long second, something unreadable in his expression. Finally, he looks away, exhaling hard. The discussion moves on, but the rift lingers.

Later that evening, the camp is quieter, but my mind isn't.

I step outside the cavernous war room, letting the cool air scrape against my skin. The pathways through the caves are dimly lit, flickering lanterns casting uneven pools of light along the walls. Most of the rebellion has settled into their nightly routines—some maintaining the perimeter, others finding rare moments of rest.

I walk without thinking, following the twisting rock corridors until I catch sight of the command tent, its entrance half-drawn open. And inside?—

Adrian.

And Isla.

They stand close, not touching, but something about the way Isla leans in, the way Adrian's expression softens, makes my breath catch.

I should turn away. Walk past like I don't see it, like it doesn't bother me. But I don't. I stand there, the flickering lantern light carving them into sharp silhouettes against the canvas walls.

Isla says something I can't hear, her mouth quivering into a small smile. And then Adrian smirks.

It's nothing. A brief, fleeting expression. But it lodges in my chest like a splinter.

I've seen him fight, seen him break bones with precision, seen him defy orders with a sharp-edged defiance. But I've rarely seen him like this—at ease, lips quirked in something that isn't a sneer or a snarl.

And not with me.

The realization burns hot and fast, like a match struck too close to my skin.

I don't linger. I force myself to move, to turn down the next corridor before I have to watch any longer.

I step into my quarters in the safe house, the heavy fabric of the curtain falling shut behind me. The silence should be a comfort, but it isn't. It feels hollow, pressing in at the edges of my thoughts.

I sink onto the cot, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. My pulse is still uneven, my breathing tight. The image of Adrian and Isla lingers, burned into my mind like an afterimage from a bright light. It shouldn't matter. I should be above this.

But I'm not.

I rub my hands together, pressing my palms into my skin as if I can smooth out the tension.

I hate that it got to me. Hate the way my chest tightens at the sight of them. Hate that Isla can make Adrian smirk when all I seem to do lately is push him further away.

I want to believe it means nothing. That it's just two people talking, sharing space, nothing more. But I saw the way Isla leaned in. The way Adrian let his guard down, if only for a moment.

And what if it's not nothing?

The thought lodges itself in my throat like a stone.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. There's too much at stake to let myself spiral over something so small. And yet, I reach for my comms device before I can stop myself, my fingers hovering over the secure channel Zara and I use.

Zara would know what to say. She always does.

I could tell her everything. The tension with Adrian, my own growing uncertainty, the way I feel like I'm losing my footing at the worst possible time. She'd listen. She'd remind me who I am, that I'm strong enough to handle this.

But she has enough on her plate.

She's leading an entire faction of the rebellion, balancing politics and survival with the kind of grace I can only hope to emulate.

I can't put this on her.

Not when she already carries so much.

I exhale sharply and set the comms device down, my hands clenching into fists.

I have to deal with this myself.

I force my gaze to the maps spread across my desk. The summit is days away. The Council will be vulnerable, gathered in one place. This is what matters.

Not Adrian. Not Isla.

Not whatever tangled mess is tightening in my chest.

I steel myself and pick up a pen.

Focus.

Because if we fail, none of this will matter.

The meeting is tense before Isla even opens her mouth.

We're gathered in the main war room, a cavernous space deep within the cave system. The air is damp, the lanterns flickering as shadows stretch across the jagged rock walls. Maps and strategic notes are pinned haphazardly to a board, and the table in the center is covered in scrawled battle plans, half-empty cups of stale coffee, and a handful of weapons.

Everyone is exhausted. The summit is days away, and we still don't have a solid plan to infiltrate it.

That's when Isla steps forward.

She places both hands on the table as she scans the room, the dim light casting sharp angles across her face. She waits just long enough for the silence to settle before speaking.

"The problem with the original plan is that it assumes we can breach security without triggering an immediate lockdown," she says, her voice smooth, confident. "That's wishful thinking. The Council won't hesitate to shut everything down at the first sign of trouble. Once that happens, we'll lose any chance of getting close to the delegates."

Murmurs ripple through the room. Cassian folds his arms, skeptical. Ethan leans forward, frowning, but listening. Adrian?—

I don't look at him.

I refuse to give him even a glance.

Isla continues, unfazed. "We need a controlled disruption. Something that forces them to shift their security measures without realizing they're doing it for us."

She reaches into a satchel and pulls out a rough schematic. "The Council has been using an old decommissioned relay station for communications in the area. It's off-grid, lightly guarded. If we take it out, they'll reroute all summit security feeds to their secondary channels. That gives us a small window where their surveillance will be focused outward instead of inward. We slip in during that window."

The logic is undeniable.

It's also risky as hell.

Cassian shakes his head. "And you're suggesting we let you handle the relay station? That we put our entire mission in the hands of someone we barely know?"

The tension in the room spikes. Isla doesn't flinch.

"I'm suggesting you let the person with the most experience handling Council systems do what they do best," she says smoothly. "Unless you'd rather fumble around with outdated blueprints and hope for the best."

Cassian bristles, but Ethan interjects before he can argue. "She's not wrong. If we had someone else with her skill set, we'd already be using them."

A few heads nod in agreement.

And then?—

"I think it's a solid plan," Adrian says, voice measured.

The words cut through me like a blade.

I straighten, my arms folding tightly across my chest as I finally turn to look at him. His expression is unreadable, his gaze fixed on the schematic. He's not looking at Isla, not exactly, but something about his posture sets my teeth on edge.

"So that's it?" My voice comes out sharper than I intend. "We just trust that Isla won't leave us exposed? We trust that she won't have her own exit strategy if things go south?"

Isla exhales through her nose, tilting her head just slightly. "I get it," she says. "You don't trust me. But if I wanted to screw you over, there are about ten easier ways I could've done it by now."

I don't look at her. I look at him.

At Adrian.

Who isn't disagreeing with her.

His jaw shifts, and when he speaks, his voice is low, deliberate. "Elara. If we keep rejecting every viable plan out of suspicion alone, we're going to run out of time."

The words lodge deep beneath my skin.

My hands curl into fists. "And how do I know your judgment isn't compromised?"

The room goes silent.

Adrian's head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing. The air between us feels charged, like a live wire waiting to snap.

"You think I'm compromised?" His voice is quiet, dangerous.

I don't back down. "I think you're being swayed too easily."

His jaw tightens. "And I think you're grasping for reasons to reject this plan that have nothing to do with strategy."

A sharp, stinging heat creeps up my neck.

Ethan clears his throat. "We're getting off track."

I drag in a breath, my hands flexing at my sides. I nod once, sharp. "Fine. We move forward with the plan. But if she steps out of line even once, she's done. No second chances."

Isla raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

Adrian's gaze lingers on me for half a second before he looks away.

The meeting adjourns, but the tension doesn't fade. It follows me like a shadow.

I need air.

The cave corridors are cold, rough-hewn stone brushing against my fingertips as I walk. The deeper chambers are quiet at this hour, most of the rebellion's fighters either asleep or buried in their work.

I don't realize I'm heading toward Adrian's quarters until I round the last bend and find him standing at the entrance, arms crossed.

Waiting.

I stop short, my pulse kicking up a notch.

He watches me, eyes unreadable.

"You want to tell me what the hell that was about back there?" His voice is quiet, but there's an edge to it.

I stiffen. "It was about keeping the rebellion from making a reckless mistake."

Adrian exhales sharply. "Bullshit."

I glare at him. "You're really going to stand here and pretend you don't see the risk? That Isla isn't still a liability?"

He steps closer.

I don't move back.

"Of course she's a liability," he says, voice low. "But I'm not an idiot, Elara. You think I'm just blindly trusting her? That I'm not watching her every move?"

Something in his tone sends a shiver down my spine.

I look away, but he isn't done.

"Or is this not about Isla at all?" he asks, voice quieter now, almost searching. "Is this about something else?"

My throat tightens.

I force myself to scoff. "Don't flatter yourself."

Adrian's jaw ticks. He studies me, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.

The mate bond hums between us, a thread of tension just beneath the surface.

His gaze flickers to my lips. Just for a second.

Then he steps back, exhaling through his nose. "I don't know what's going on with you. But whatever it is, figure it out before it gets in the way."

Something twists inside me.

I want to snap at him. I want to tell him he doesn't get to command me.

But I say nothing.

Instead, I turn sharply and walk away.

I don't look back.

But I feel his gaze on me the whole way down the corridor.