Page 15 of Howl For A Kiss (Rebellious Mates #3)

THIRTEEN

ELENA

E lena noticed the sun setting outside the office window and realized that she and Damon had been alone for hours in the office completely oblivious to the time. Damon seemed to have that effect on her, making the rest of the world just fade away whenever she was around him.

Get a grip, Elena. You're acting like a lovesick teenager.

But her wolf disagreed, purring with contentment at their proximity and urging her to get even closer to this magnificent male who made her feel safe and desired in equal measure.

Damon cleared his throat, stepping back with visible effort. "We should get our weapons cleaned and start gearing up for tonight."

Elena blinked, forcing herself back into mission mode despite the lingering heat in her veins. "Right. Of course."

They moved to the small storage cabinet he'd organized in her makeshift office, and Elena caught herself watching with fascination as Damon began methodically laying out his weapons.

His movements were precise, almost ritualistic, and there was something oddly soothing about his careful attention to detail.

"You have pre-mission routines," she observed, pulling her own gear from the closet.

"Always." Damon began field-stripping his primary sidearm with practiced efficiency. "Weapons maintenance, equipment check, then five minutes of meditation to center myself before any operation."

Elena paused in her own weapon preparation, struck by the genuine nature of his response. It was the first truly personal thing he'd shared about his daily life, and she realized how much she'd been craving this kind of authentic connection with him.

"Meditation, huh?" she asked, settling cross-legged on the floor beside him as they worked.

"My training taught me that a calm mind is the most powerful weapon any warrior can carry." His hands never paused in their methodical work. "It helps me control my impulses and think strategically instead of emotionally."

Unlike me, apparently, Elena thought ruefully as she began cleaning her own weapons. "That's actually brilliant. I should probably try that sometime—I tend to be a little too impulsive."

The corner of Damon's mouth quirked up in the beginning of a smile. "I'd noticed."

Something in his tone made her look up, and she caught a flicker of something in his expression—guilt maybe. It was that same secretive look she'd been noticing since yesterday.

"Damon." Her voice took on a commanding edge. "You've been oddly evasive since that phone call outside the cavern. What aren't you telling me?"

He went very still, his hands freezing on the weapon in his lap. For a long moment, the only sound was the distant chatter from the other rebels in the main room.

"Is this about some rivalry between the Silvercrest and Tidewater rebel groups?" Elena pressed, pieces clicking together in her mind. "I remember the Silvercrest rebels being more intense and methodical than my group. We've had some tense run-ins in the past."

Relief flickered across Damon's features so quickly she almost missed it, and suddenly Elena was certain she'd hit on the truth.

"That's it, isn't it?" she continued. "You're feeling disloyal to your pack by being here as my second-in-command. You think your buddies won't understand why you'd do something this extreme for a woman you just met."

Damon's shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. "Something like that, yeah. Pack loyalty runs deep, and I've never... abandoned my post before."

"Do you regret staying here with me?" The question tumbled out before Elena could stop it, vulnerable and raw.

"Not for a single second." His response was immediate and fierce, his green eyes blazing with conviction. "I'd make the same choice again in a heartbeat."

The simple honesty in his voice made Elena's chest warm with something dangerous and wonderful. She was letting her walls crumble, allowing this incredible and surprisingly gentle man closer than anyone had ever been.

Maybe it's okay to trust him. Maybe he really is exactly what I need.

"Good," she said softly, then forced herself to refocus on their gear. "Because I need you here, Damon. Not just for tonight, but... for everything that's coming."

As they continued preparing their equipment—tactical vests, shoulder holsters with guns, hip holsters with knives, ankle holsters with backup weapons, and thigh straps for extra ammunition—Elena drank in every detail of Damon's methodical approach.

The way he checked each piece of gear twice, the quiet confidence in his movements, and the protective way he glanced at her equipment to ensure everything was properly secured.

She was absorbing his knowledge and presence like a sponge, studying his every word and movement with the wonder and desire of someone who'd finally found what they'd been searching for without even knowing they were looking.

When Damon noticed her watching and smiled—one of those rare, genuine expressions that transformed his entire face—Elena felt something settle into place in her chest. Something that felt suspiciously like coming home.

Once Elena and Damon finished securing their tactical gear in her makeshift office, they moved with practiced silence through the rebel cabin.

Elena adjusted her shoulder holster one final time, the weight of her weapons providing comfort against the growing knot in her stomach.

Damon checked his hip holster and thigh straps with methodical precision, his green eyes already shifting into mission mode.

"Ready?" he asked quietly, his voice carrying that commanding undertone that made her wolf hum with satisfaction.

"Always." Elena pulled her tactical jacket tighter against the November chill as they slipped out of Cade's compound gates.

The moon climbed steadily into the star-scattered sky as they trekked through the snow-covered wilderness.

Each footstep crunched softly in the pristine powder and their breath formed crystalline clouds in the frigid air.

Elena kept stealing glances at Damon's profile, admiring the hard angles of his jaw and the focused determination etched across his features.

"Thorne's estate is going to take us several hours to reach," Damon said, his voice low and steady. "It's positioned right on the border between Granite Ridge and Tidewater territory—technically on the Granite Ridge side."

Elena nodded, falling into step beside him.

The comfortable silence that stretched between them felt different now—charged with the memory of their kiss that morning and the growing awareness of something profound building between them.

Her wolf seemed to recognize him on a deeper level, responding to his presence with a contentment that both thrilled and terrified her.

Focus on the mission, she reminded herself as they crossed into more treacherous terrain. Not on how perfectly his hand fits in yours when he helps you over fallen logs.

But Damon made focusing difficult. He moved through the forest like he belonged there, constantly checking on her comfort and safety without making her feel weak or protected.

When the snow grew deeper, he'd move ahead to break trail.

When they encountered icy patches, his hand would appear at her elbow—warm, steady, and reassuring.

"You okay?" he asked for the third time in an hour, genuine concern flickering in his green eyes.

"I'm fine." Elena couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "You don't have to worry about me every five minutes."

"Actually, I do." The fierce protectiveness in his voice made something flutter dangerously in her chest. "It's not optional."

God, the way he says things like that. Elena quickly masked her reaction, focusing on the path ahead instead of the way her body responded to his possessiveness.

As they approached Thorne's estate hours later, the massive three-story mansion loomed against the moonlit sky like something from a gothic nightmare.

Ornate stonework and towering windows spoke of old money and older power, while manicured grounds stretched in every direction despite the winter snow.

This is it, Elena thought, her pulse quickening. Time to find out which Council elder has been orchestrating these experiments.

But as they moved stealthily through the snow toward the service entrance Damon had suggested, something felt wrong. The estate was too quiet and too still. No guards patrolled the perimeter, no lights flickered in the windows, and no signs of the minimal security Damon had promised.

This feels exactly like that night at the Council headquarters, Elena realized, her stomach dropping. Everything going too smoothly before ? —

"Something's off," she whispered to Damon as they reached the service entrance.

He nodded grimly. "I noticed. But we've come this far."

They breached the service entrance exactly as planned—no surveillance, no guards, nothing to stop their infiltration. Elena's dread intensified with each step through the richly appointed corridors toward the grand staircase that would take them to Thorne's private office on the third floor.

Tyler died because I missed something, the thought hammered through her mind as they began climbing the marble steps. I can't let that happen again. I can't lose ? —

"Elena." Damon's hand shot out, stopping her mid-step. "We're not alone."

The words had barely left his mouth when armed figures emerged from the shadows above and below them. Council guards and human operatives, more than they'd anticipated, converged on the grand staircase with military precision.

Elena's heart hammered against her ribs as she counted—three guards descending from the top and four guards and operatives ascending from the bottom. They were trapped, sandwiched on the staircase with nowhere to run.

"Why are there so many guards here?" Elena hissed, her panic bleeding through despite her attempts to stay calm. "You said there wouldn't be many after midnight!"

Damon's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with something that looked like guilt mixed with determination. "It seems very suspicious. Makes Thorne an even bigger suspect as the corrupt Council elder in my book."

But Elena didn't have time to speculate any further, her survival instincts kicking in as the armed figures positioned themselves for what was clearly about to become a deadly confrontation.

"We need to figure out how to survive these odds," Damon said, his voice dropping into that commanding tone.

Elena drew her guns, muscle memory taking over as the familiar weight settled in her hands. But her mind was racing beyond tactics and escape routes—something about this whole situation felt wrong, like she'd walked directly into another trap.