Page 27 of Heart of the Rebel Mate (Wolf Billionaire #5)

CHAPTER 27

ADRIAN

T he war council gathers in the dimly lit command room, maps spread across the long table, their edges curling from use. A single lantern flickers at the center, its weak glow casting distorted shadows against the stone walls. The scent of wax and old parchment clings to the air, but beneath it, the room pulses with something far heavier—fear, tension, the unspoken weight of what we're about to do.

The rebellion has never been closer to an all-out battle with the Council. Every decision made in this room dictates whether we survive the coming storm or crumble beneath it.

Ethan stands at the head of the table, arms crossed over his broad chest, his sharp gaze scanning the group like a predator assessing its pack. His presence commands the room—steady, unyielding—but even he can't disguise the lines of exhaustion bracketing his mouth.

"We have a window," he says, his voice even, controlled. "The Council's forces are stretched thin after our last raid. Their supply lines are vulnerable. We hit them hard, we cut off their legs before they even see us coming."

I shift my weight slightly, studying the map in front of me. Hand-drawn blueprints of the Council's compound sprawl across the table, hastily sketched but clear enough to reveal weak points.

Isla leans forward, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against the wood. "Their stronghold is fortified, but we've mapped out several vulnerabilities. If we can infiltrate their main communication hub, we can disrupt their coordination and leave them blind long enough for our main forces to breach the outer defenses."

It's a solid plan. A high risk, high reward maneuver.

I trace my fingers over the map, following the main corridors leading to the control center. "It's a risk," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the weight pressing against my ribs. "If they get even a whisper of our plan, they'll lock the place down. No one gets in. No one gets out."

Cassian exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. His expression is unreadable, but there's an edge to his posture, a quiet amusement lurking in his eyes like he knows something the rest of us don't.

"That's why we make sure they don't hear a damn thing until it's too late," he says, his tone casual but laced with steel.

Cassian has always been an enigma. Unpredictable, unreadable. We fight side by side, but I don't trust him—not completely. He's playing a game none of us can see, and I've learned to be wary of men like him.

Ethan exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "We need a small infiltration team—fast, efficient, precise. Adrian, you lead it. We'll coordinate the main assault from the outside, but if you fail to disable their communications before we strike, this whole thing falls apart before it even begins."

All eyes shift to me.

I don't hesitate. "I won't fail."

A promise, as much to myself as to them.

The weight of responsibility settles deep in my chest, coiling tight. This isn't just another mission. This is the battle that determines everything—the rebellion's survival, our people's future, the fragile hope we've clung to for too long.

Failure isn't an option.

Silence stretches across the room, thick and suffocating. No one doubts the stakes, but doubt lingers in the spaces between their breaths, in the unspoken fear none of us dare give voice to.

Ethan clears his throat, breaking the quiet. "You leave before dawn. Isla, get Adrian the layout of the security patrols. Cassian, make sure our exit plan is airtight. We move fast, we move clean. No mistakes."

Chairs scrape against stone as the group starts to disperse, the meeting breaking apart into hushed conversations and final preparations. Isla hands me a rolled-up set of parchment, her eyes dark with worry.

"Be careful," she murmurs, barely audible.

I nod, tucking the maps into my belt, but I don't say the words she wants to hear. There's no room for false reassurances.

Across the room, Cassian lingers near the doorway, watching me with that same unreadable expression. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes are sharp. Calculating.

"Try not to die, Adrian," he says, his voice light, almost mocking. "It'd be a shame to lose you before the real fun starts."

I don't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I brush past him, stepping into the cold corridor beyond.

Dawn is only hours away.

And by this time tomorrow, everything could be different.

The corridors of our hideout are eerily quiet when I step outside. The discussion inside continues, muffled voices debating logistics, but I need a moment away from it. A moment to breathe. To think.

The war room is suffocating, thick with tension, with fear no one dares to name. We're standing on the edge of something irreversible, and every choice we make from here on determines whether we survive—or if we're just another rebellion crushed beneath the Council's boot.

I barely make it a few steps before I hear Cassian's voice behind me.

"You really think we're going to win this?"

I turn to find him leaning against the rough stone wall, arms crossed, watching me with an expression that's more curiosity than challenge. The dim torches lining the corridor flicker, casting shifting shadows across his sharp features.

"We don't have another choice," I say.

"That's not what I asked."

I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck. "We have a plan. We have people willing to die for it. That's more than the Council ever expected of us."

Cassian doesn't respond right away. Instead, his gaze drifts past me, toward the open courtyard where a group of children plays, their laughter ringing through the night air.

They're playing Hunt the Wolf .

The sight hits me like a punch to the gut. I know that game. I remember it.

One child—"the wolf"—breaks away from the group, sprinting toward the edge of the courtyard while the others chase, their voices rising in high-pitched howls. The wolf has to evade capture, ducking and weaving, using the shadows to escape. If they're caught, they fall to the ground, playing dead, and the game starts over.

I remember being that young. I remember feeling like I had the entire world at my fingertips, like I'd never have to fight for my place in it.

That illusion shattered the first time I saw what the Council was capable of.

Cassian's voice pulls me back. "You ever wonder what happens after?"

I blink, dragging my gaze away from the children. "After?"

"Yeah." He shifts, tilting his head against the stone wall. "After the fighting. After the blood and the betrayals and the death. What's left of us when the war is over?"

I don't have an answer. I don't think any of us do.

Cassian lets out a slow breath, then says, almost absently, "You know... I used to be a different person."

I glance at him, waiting.

He huffs a quiet, humorless laugh. "Before the Council took her from me."

Her.

Understanding clicks into place, sharp and brutal.

Cassian has never spoken about his mate before. Never given voice to the wound that must be carved deep into his soul.

"They severed the bond," I murmur.

His jaw tightens. "Not just severed it. Ripped it out of me like it was never there to begin with." His voice is low, raw. "For years, I thought I was losing my mind. The rage, the emptiness—it doesn't go away, Adrian. It just sits there, festering, waiting for something to burn."

I know that rage. I've felt it coil inside me, a wildfire barely contained. But I've never had my bond stripped away. Never been forced to live as half of something that no longer exists.

A sharp cry echoes from the courtyard. One of the kids—the "wolf" this round—has been tackled to the ground, giggling as they pretend to fall lifeless. The other children circle them in mock victory, celebrating before the game begins again.

They have no idea what's coming for them.

No idea that the Council doesn't just control our lives—they steal them. They rip apart families, sever mates, crush rebellions before they can even begin.

They are the reason we have to win.

"Is that why you joined the rebellion?" I ask.

Cassian's lips curl in something that's not quite a smile. "I joined because I wanted to watch the Council burn. But now..." He hesitates, glancing toward the closed doors of the war room. "Now, I don't know. Maybe it's more than that."

I don't press him.

I don't tell him that I still don't trust him.

But for the first time, I begin to understand him.

And as the echoes of children's laughter fade into the night, my resolve hardens like stone.

This fight isn't just about revenge.

It's about making sure those kids never have to play Hunt the Wolf for real.

By the time the war council reconvenes, the plan is set. The maps are marked with final strategies, the air in the room heavy with the weight of what we're about to do.

We move like clockwork now, efficient and deadly. My team will infiltrate the Council stronghold first, slipping through the cracks in their security, taking out their communication hub before they even realize we're inside. Once we cut off their command structure, Ethan and the rest of the rebellion will strike.

It's a suicide mission if we fail.

But failure isn't an option.

The war room hums with quiet intensity as weapons are checked, gear strapped into place. The scent of oil and steel lingers in the air, mixing with the ever-present dampness of our underground hideout. Every movement feels sharper, every breath measured.

Elara crosses my path as I head toward the armory.

She doesn't speak. She doesn't have to.

Her eyes search mine, and I see everything in them—fear, resolve, love. There's so much we need to say, but there's no time.

She has to go rally the troops. I have to lead the charge.

So I nod. A silent promise.

She nods back.

Then she's gone, disappearing into the movement of soldiers, her dark hair vanishing behind the glint of silver weapons and war-hardened faces.

I take a steadying breath and turn to find Cassian watching me from the shadows of the corridor.

He looks ready—armor strapped tight, blades at his hips—but there's something in his stance that unsettles me. A stillness. A quiet that isn't natural.

For the first time, I see past his sharp smirks and reckless bravado to the fracture underneath. Cassian may be fighting for the rebellion, but I can't shake the feeling that he's also fighting something else.

Something deeper. Something dangerous.

He's lost everything to the Council.

Men like that either burn out or set the world on fire.

I don't know which one he'll be.

But as I strap my own weapons into place and step into the cold night air, I make a decision.

I'll be watching him when the final battle begins.

Because I don't know if Cassian will be our greatest weapon... or the spark that brings everything down.