Page 22 of Heart of the Rebel Mate (Wolf Billionaire #5)

CHAPTER 22

ADRIAN

T he war room is a mess.

The final stages of the summit plan take shape and everyone is on edge. I have been drowning in anxiety ever since we found out the Council could just release a gas and stop this rebellion in its tracks. Is that why they haven't cracked down on us? Is that why rescuing Elara seemed too easy? Because they know they can stop all of this with a snap of their fingers? That's a disconcerting thought.

We don't have time for personal disputes, but that hasn't stopped Cassian from making a spectacle of his.

"You're hesitating," Cassian snaps, shoving a hand through his hair. His usually collected demeanor is slipping, irritation bleeding into his expression. "If we strike hard and fast, we control the tempo. The longer we wait, the more time they have to reinforce security."

I exhale slowly, keeping my tone measured. "You're not thinking about the aftermath. If we go in that aggressively, the Council will retaliate before we have a foothold. You want us to be the ones on the defensive?"

Cassian scoffs, shifting his weight onto one foot. His impatience is clear, but more than that, his disdain for restraint. "I'd rather take the risk than sit around pretending we have control we don't."

Something in his tone sets my teeth on edge.

"You're not taking the risk," I say, voice low. "We are."

The room goes quiet.

Cassian's nostrils flare. "Funny, coming from you. Considering how carefully you've been playing this, I'm starting to wonder whose side you're on."

I see red.

Before I know it, I've closed the distance, my fingers curled into a fist at my side. Cassian doesn't move, his gaze steady, almost daring me to make the first strike.

"You want to question my loyalty?" I say, my voice quiet, dangerous. "You, who has conveniently failed to mention just how deep your past ties with the Council run?"

Cassian's jaw tightens, but he doesn't back down. "That was a long time ago."

"And yet, somehow, I still don't trust you," I murmur.

The tension is suffocating. No one speaks, though I can feel the weight of everyone's stares.

Then—

"Enough," Elara's voice cuts through the silence.

She steps between us, not touching either of us but effectively severing the thread of violence stretching between Cassian and me. Her gaze flickers to mine, sharp with warning. "This isn't getting us anywhere. We don't have time for this."

I let out a slow breath, forcing my muscles to unwind. Cassian takes a step back as well, rolling his shoulders like he's shaking off the fight that almost happened.

"We revisit strategy in an hour," Elara says, leaving no room for argument. She doesn't wait for a response before turning and walking out.

Cassian lingers a beat longer before scoffing under his breath and following suit.

I don't move.

I stay in the war room long after everyone else has gone, staring at the plans scattered across the table but not really seeing them.

Cassian was testing me.

And I still don't know why.

It's late when I find Isla.

She's in one of the side chambers, sitting at a makeshift desk with maps and Council documents spread before her. The lantern beside her casts her sharp features in flickering gold, shadows shifting as she moves.

She doesn't look surprised to see me.

"Should I be worried?" she asks without looking up. "You showing up unannounced like this. Feels a little ominous."

I close the distance in a few steps, resting a hand on the edge of the desk. "We need to talk."

Isla exhales through her nose, finally glancing at me. "About?"

"You."

A beat of silence.

Then she leans back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. "You're not usually this direct. I'd almost say I'm flattered."

I don't rise to the bait. "How deep was your involvement with the Council?"

Something flickers across her face.

It's gone in an instant.

"You know the answer to that," she says carefully.

"I know what you've told me," I correct. "I want the truth."

She holds my gaze for a long moment, searching my face like she's weighing whether I'm worth the honesty. Finally, she exhales, looking away.

"My involvement wasn't as deep as you think. But it wasn't nothing either." She taps a finger against the edge of the map. "I knew things. Enough to be useful. Enough to know they don't all agree with each other."

That catches my attention.

I straighten. "Explain."

Isla shifts, her expression unreadable. "The Council isn't as united as they pretend to be. There are fractures. Some of them—" She hesitates. "—don't think the current leadership is sustainable."

A cold weight settles in my chest.

"You're saying some of them don't support the direction the Council is heading?"

She nods once. "They're not exactly allies. But they're not completely loyal either."

I process that.

If there are factions within the Council playing a longer game, it means the rebellion isn't just fighting an external enemy—it means the enemy is already at war with itself.

And that means we could have leverage.

"Who?" I ask.

Isla shakes her head. "If I had names, I'd have given them to you already. But the ones who matter? They're watching. They're waiting."

For what, she doesn't say.

And somehow, I get the feeling she isn't sure either.

The training room is empty except for her.

Elara stands near the far wall, hands braced against the wooden rack of weapons. The soft glow of lanterns casts long shadows, highlighting the curve of her shoulders, the delicate line of her spine as she exhales, slow and measured. Her back is to me, but I can tell she knows I'm here.

She doesn't turn around when she speaks.

"Something on your mind?"

Her voice is even, but I catch the tightness beneath it.

I step closer. "You left the meeting quickly."

She finally glances over her shoulder. "Not much else to say, was there?"

There it is. The sharp edge. The unspoken weight pressing between us.

I take another step forward, watching the way her fingers flex against the wooden rack. "You disagree with Isla's plan."

Elara lets out a quiet breath, turning fully to face me. "I disagree with how easily you accepted it."

Her eyes hold mine, unreadable in the dim light. There's something simmering beneath the surface—more than frustration, more than strategy.

I cross my arms. "You think I should've fought harder."

"I think you're being careful," she says. "And I think I know why."

There's an accusation buried in her words, something she isn't saying outright.

I arch a brow. "Enlighten me."

She hesitates, but only for a moment. Then she pushes off the rack and closes the space between us.

"You don't trust Cassian," she says, searching my face. "But it's more than that. You don't like that I do."

The air between us shifts.

I hold her gaze, feeling something hot coil low in my stomach. "Is that what you think this is about?"

Her jaw tightens. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Silence stretches between us.

She lifts her chin slightly, a challenge in her stance. "You want me to be honest, Adrian? Fine. I saw the way you looked at him tonight. Like you were daring him to give you a reason."

My fingers curl into fists at my sides. "He already has."

Her eyes flash. "And if he has? If you're right, and I'm wrong? Then what? You don't think I can handle it?"

"That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about?" she presses.

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but saying them out loud feels like giving something away—something I've spent too long keeping buried.

Elara watches me, waiting.

I shake my head. "You really don't see it, do you?"

"See what?"

I look at her then, really look at her.

How do I explain the weight in my chest every time I think about what the Council could do to her—to us? How do I tell her that Cassian isn't my biggest concern, that he's a distraction from the real threat?

"Elara," I say quietly, voice rougher than I intend. "The Council isn't just our enemy. They're watching us."

Her expression flickers, something guarded creeping in. "I know that."

"No, you don't," I say. "Not like I do."

She crosses her arms, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her breath catches.

I take a step closer. "The mate bond—it's not just some fated connection. It's leverage. It's something they can use against us."

Her brows pull together. "Use against us?"

I nod. "They'll twist it. Make it a weakness. And if they can't break it—" I hesitate, jaw clenching. "—they'll exploit it."

Something shifts in her face, something uncertain.

"You think they'd manipulate us like that?" she asks, quieter now.

I let out a breath. "I know they will."

The silence stretches between us, heavy with things unsaid.

Then—

She moves.

Not away. Not to argue.

But toward me.

Her hands, small but steady, press against my chest. My heart slams against my ribs as she tilts her face up, her breath warm against my skin.

I don't think.

I react.

My fingers find her waist, drawing her closer, and the moment I do, something ignites between us. The mate bond flares to life, searing and undeniable.

Elara moans softly, and I feel it more than hear it. Her breath is warm, and the way her body presses against mine, the way her fingers curl slightly against my shirt—it unravels something in me.

I lower my head, barely brushing my nose against hers.

Her breath catches.

For a moment, neither of us move.

Then—

She shifts, just enough for her lips to graze mine, a whisper of contact that sends fire racing down my spine.

It's not a kiss. Not yet.

But it's everything.

She's close enough that I can see the way her lashes tremble, the way her pulse flutters at her throat. My hands tighten at her waist, not pulling her closer but keeping her there, holding her in the space between hesitation and inevitability.

Elara exhales, a soft, shuddering breath. "Adrian."

My name on her lips is my undoing.

I close the distance.

The kiss is slow, deliberate. A quiet unraveling. Like a ball of yarn coming undone.

Elara's fingers slide up, tangling in my hair, and I groan against her mouth, my hands moving instinctively—one pressing against the small of her back, the other cradling her jaw.

She tilts her head, deepening the kiss, and it's fire and gravity all at once.

I don't know how long we stay like that, lost in each other.

But eventually, she pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against mine, her breath uneven.

Neither of us speak.

We don't need to.

The mate bond hums between us, unbroken. Unshaken.

When she finally looks at me, her expression is different. Softer. Certain.

"We fight together," she murmurs.

A statement. A promise.

I hold her waist and pull her close, firmly, as my hands explore her back and set her nerves on fire. "Together."

And for the first time, I believe it.