Page 4 of Heart of the Rebel Mate (Wolf Billionaire #5)

CHAPTER 4

ADRIAN

E lara steps out of the south lecture hall, her figure cutting through the light spilling across the campus walkways. Her bag is slung over one shoulder, the other hand clutching a folder, her fingers without any manicure pressing into the edges.

I shouldn't be here.

But then again, that's been true for a while now.

This isn't the kind of space I'm meant to inhabit—a university campus buzzing with idealists who still think the world can be changed through blueprints and speeches. The air hums with conversation, students moving in clusters, their words laced with optimism. It grates against me, a stark contrast to the shadows I've learned to live in.

But I couldn't stay away.

Not from her.

I track her movements, the sure, steady rhythm of her steps. She doesn't look around and doesn't check her surroundings. Either she's too focused or she believes she has nothing to fear. The thought tightens something in my chest.

Then, the scent hits me.

Sharp pine and cold steel. It's subtle but unmistakable, threading through the air like an invisible warning. My muscles go taut before I even spot him and my body reacts on instinct—trained over years of knowing exactly what he is capable of.

Cassian Veyne.

He steps into view from a side path, merging effortlessly with the shifting tide of students, but his presence is like a drop of ink in clear water—spreading, staining the space around him. He's dressed for control, every detail of his appearance calculated: the tailored dark suit that moves with him, the crisp white collar resting just so against his throat, the silver streaks in his hair catching the sunlight at precise angles. His eyes, sharp and glinting like honed steel, home in on Elara.

Cassian has always been a problem.

Cassian Veyne isn't just a name whispered in dark corners—he's a force that moves just beneath the Council's reach, threading through their carefully maintained order like a fracture waiting to split.

We've crossed paths before. More times than I care to count.

The first time, it was at the Velmar Summit—an invitation-only gathering where industry leaders, influential figures, and policymakers—both human and werewolf—meet to discuss advancements in technology, trade, and governance. Cassian had slipped in like he belonged, shaking hands with figures the Council kept on watch lists. I'd seen him talking to Rian Kade, a known rebel strategist who vanished a month later without a trace.

Then there was the supply raid outside Blackmere, a fortified outpost on the outskirts of Council-controlled territory, serving as a key distribution hub for restricted resources—technology, weapons, medical supplies, and classified research materials. A so-called "accident" had occurred, resulting in a warehouse of restricted tech going missing.

A week later, an anonymous shipment surfaced, linked to one of Cassian's shell companies. No direct evidence tied him to the theft, but the timing was too perfect. The Council suspected his involvement but lacked the proof to act.

But it was enough for the Council to consider him a problem they haven't yet figured out how to solve. Too public to silence, too connected to corner, Cassian plays the game with ruthless precision, balancing influence and ambiguity to remain untouchable.

And now, he's set his sights on Elara.

I can't let that happen.

And now, he's here. Talking to her.

My wolf stirs, restless beneath my skin, teeth bared in silence. I force my hands to unclench, exhaling slowly. Cassian is too smooth and controlled. He doesn't fumble or make careless mistakes. Every move is intentional, and that makes him dangerous.

Their voices drift toward me, carried by the faint afternoon breeze.

"—wanted to make sure everything is on track," Cassian says, his tone smooth, conversational, practiced.

Elara stops, weight shifting onto her back foot, just a fraction. "You're the one funding this phase?"

"I am," he replies easily, his smile appearing slow and measured. "Thought it might be a good time to check in. This project of yours... it's ambitious. It deserves the right kind of support."

Support. That's what he's calling it now.

A muscle ticks in my jaw.

Elara grips the folder tighter. Her wariness is visible in the slight furrow between her brows. "And what's in it for you?"

Smart. She doesn't take things at face value. But Cassian enjoys challenges, and Elara is one he'd love to win.

Cassian exhales a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Not everything has to be transactional, Elara." He leans in just enough, lowering his voice, making it something private between them. "Sometimes, a good idea is worth standing behind. And what you're building here? It's more than just architecture. It's a statement. A bridge between two worlds."

My fingers twitch. Cassian never says things carelessly. Every word is designed to embed itself, to hook, to pull.

Elara's shoulders go rigid, though her face remains neutral. Still, I see the flicker of doubt—just a breath of hesitation. Cassian's patience is endless. He can work with hesitation.

I step forward, boots crunching softly against the pavement. Cassian's smirk begins to form, but before he can turn fully, Elara moves.

The air thickens, pressing in, charged with something sharp and crackling. Her head snaps toward me, the movement swift, instinctive—like a predator scenting something familiar. Her muscles tighten, shoulders squared as if bracing for impact. Her breath hitches, just for a beat, before smoothing out, but it's too late. I've already seen the flicker in her eyes.

A heartbeat stretches between us, weighted, stretched thin by something unspoken.

Her lips part, then press into a firm line. Her jaw tightens, a flicker of tension there, a silent war playing out beneath the cool mask she wears. But her fingers curl at her sides, knuckles paling slightly—small, barely perceptible, but enough. Enough to tell me she feels it too.

I exhale slowly, steadying the shift in my stance before it gives me away. My pulse, slow a second ago, kicks up, thudding once—twice. Too damn loud. The scent of her, familiar and maddening, coils in my lungs, and my fingers twitch at my sides before I force them still.

From a distance, I'd convinced myself it had faded. I could watch her without feeling the pull, without remembering the way her breath had ghosted against my skin, her pulse wild beneath my touch.

But now—now that she's close enough for me to see the way her throat moves when she swallows, close enough that I can almost hear the sharp inhale she tries to suppress—it's impossible to ignore.

I catch the way her gaze flickers, lingering on my mouth for a second too long before she snatches it away.

Before I can say anything, Cassian tilts his head slightly before his smirk widens as soon as he sees me.

"Well, if it isn't Adrian Kane," he drawls, mockery coiling through his words.

I ignore him. "Elara," I say, keeping my voice steady. "We need to talk."

She turns toward me, her expression shifting. No hostility, but the careful walls are back in place. A flick of her gaze between me and Cassian. Weighing something.

Elara's fingers tighten around the folder, knuckles whitening. Her gaze flickers between me and Cassian, weighing something in that sharp, calculating way of hers. Then, with a sigh, she tilts her head toward him.

"I'll see you later, Cassian."

Dismissal.

Cassian's smirk lingers, but something in his expression shifts—just a flicker, barely noticeable. His jaw tenses for half a second, eyes narrowing before the lazy amusement slides back into place, smooth and practiced. He lets out a soft chuckle, but there's no real humor in it.

"Of course," he says lightly. "Wouldn't want to keep you from this. " His gaze flicks to me, sharp with something unreadable, before he inclines his head. "Don't let him bite."

Elara doesn't respond, already stepping past him, and I don't miss the way his eyes track her movement, lingering just a second too long.

Interesting.

I watch him turn on his heel and disappear into the crowd, his posture relaxed, unbothered—but that split-second hesitation stays with me. Cassian doesn't seem like the kind of man who likes being dismissed. And Elara?

She didn't hesitate enough.

I glance at her, matching my pace to hers as we walk down the dim hallway. Her shoulders are stiff, her spine straight, but her fingers are still curled around the folder like she needs something solid to hold on to.

"How do you know him?"

She doesn't even look at me. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters," I say evenly, "because Cassian isn't someone you should be involved with."

That gets a reaction. She exhales sharply, finally turning her head toward me, brows drawing together. " Involved? " she repeats, like I just accused her of something obscene. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know exactly what I'm talking about." My voice lowers, steady but firm. "Cassian has ties to things you don't want to be a part of."

Elara scoffs, shaking her head as she picks up her pace. "Oh, please. Spare me the lecture, Adrian."

I step in front of her, cutting off her path, and she halts abruptly, eyes flashing. "I'm serious, Elara."

"And I seriously don't care," she snaps. "Cassian isn't your concern."

My jaw tightens. "He is when he's standing too close to you. When he looks at you like—" I stop myself, exhaling through my nose. "He's dangerous."

She lets out a humorless laugh, tilting her head. "And you're not?"

I don't flinch, but it's a near thing. The way she's looking at me—like she's seeing through the layers I've carefully built—sets my teeth on edge.

"This isn't about me," I grit out.

"No, it's about you thinking you can dictate who I talk to." She takes a step closer, chin lifting in defiance. "Guess what, Adrian? You don't get to do that."

Frustration coils tight in my chest. "I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need your protection," she fires back.

We're too close now. The air between us hums, electric and heavy. I can see the rise and fall of her breath, the sharpness in her gaze softened by something I can't name. My wolf prowls beneath my skin, restless, attuned to hers in a way I wish it wasn't.

Her lips part like she's about to say something else, but she hesitates, breath catching.

I swallow, pulse hammering.

"Elara—"

She turns on her heel before I can finish, walking away without another word.

I let out a slow breath, watching her go, jaw clenched tight.

Damn it.

My fists clench at my sides, my pulse still pounding too hard, too fast.

I think back on the way he looked at her, the ease in the way he spoke to her like they had known each other before...it was grating!

It hadn't been long enough to mean something. But long enough to wonder.

I exhale sharply, raking a hand through my hair. My pulse is still too high, my breathing uneven, and I hate it.

And Elara?—

I grind my teeth.

She hadn't looked pleased to see him. Her body had been taut with something sharp and unreadable, and the tension in her shoulders hadn't been the kind that came from comfort. But she hadn't been surprised, either.

Which means this wasn't the first time.

The thought sends something hot and ugly through me.

I tell myself this is about her safety, about the growing suspicion curling around Cassian like a shadow. If he's involved with something dangerous, she's at risk. That's why I need to know. That's why I have to push.

But beneath it, something else churns.

Something raw.

Because no matter how much I try to frame this as logic, as reason, the truth digs its claws in deep.

It wasn't just Cassian I wanted to shove away from her.

It was me who wanted to step into that space, who wanted to demand answers and wanted to hear her say there was nothing there. Wanted to remind her that I am not just another name in her life that can be dismissed, or pushed aside.

Damn her.

Damn the way she gets under my skin.

And damn Cassian for looking at her like he already knew what I refuse to admit.