Page 6 of Howl For A Kiss (Rebellious Mates #3)

FIVE

ELENA

E lena pressed her forehead against her drawn-up knees as she struggled to regain her composure after realizing she's a hybrid.

The cavern walls seemed to close in around her with the revelation of her father's deception.

Twenty-eight years of lies. Twenty-eight years of believing she was something she wasn't.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her lift her head.

Damon emerged from the shadows, his tall frame filling the narrow passage as he moved with that predatory grace she'd noticed earlier.

His green eyes immediately locked onto her huddled form, and something shifted in his expression—a softening that made her chest tighten unexpectedly.

"Elena." He crossed the distance between them in three swift strides before dropping to one knee beside her. His tactical jacket hung open over his thermal henley, revealing the defined contours of his broad chest beneath the black fabric.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, though her voice cracked on the words.

"No, you're not." His blunt honesty cut through her facade. "And that's understandable given what you've just learned."

Elena studied his face, searching for pity or disgust but finding neither. Instead, his angular features held a burning intensity that made her wolf—her newly awakened wolf—preen with satisfaction.

"Your phone call," she said, desperate to focus on something other than the way her body responded to his proximity. "Everything fine with your rebel group?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I was just making sure Logan and Zoe got back to our pack territory.

And thankfully they did," Damon replied, settling more comfortably beside her on the rocky ground.

"But there's something more important than that.

I want to help you, Elena. Your rebel group needs support now more than ever. "

Elena's tactical mind immediately went on high alert. "Help how, exactly?"

"As your new second-in-command."

His words almost knocked the wind out of her. She jerked back slightly, her shoulder holster's leather creaking against the cavern wall.

"You've known me for all of one hour," she said, incredulous. "Tyler's barely been dead three days, and you think you can just walk in and take his place?"

Damon's jaw tightened at her sharp tone, but his voice remained steady. "I watched you handle yourself brilliantly today during that ambush. But you're operating with a massive target on your back now, and you need someone with my particular skill set."

"Your particular skill set," Elena repeated flatly. "Which is what, exactly? Looking brooding and mysterious?"

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. "Among other things."

Despite everything, Elena felt an answering tug at the corners of her mouth. The man had handled himself impressively during the firefight at her base. His movements had been precise, lethal, and completely controlled even under pressure.

"My rebels won't trust an outsider," she said, though her wolf was practically purring at the idea of keeping Damon close.

"They'll trust you," he countered. "And if you vouch for me, that'll be enough to start."

Elena wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees again, torn between practical necessity and emotional wariness.

Tyler's death had left a gaping hole in her command structure that she couldn't fill alone.

And this strange pull she felt toward Damon—this magnetic connection her wolf insisted was important—made the decision feel simultaneously logical and terrifying.

"Temporarily," she said finally, the word coming out rougher than intended. "Until I can properly assess your capabilities and my people can adjust to you."

"Temporarily," Damon agreed, though something in his eyes suggested he had much longer plans in mind.

"And if any of my rebels have problems with this arrangement, you defer to their concerns," Elena continued, her leadership instincts kicking in despite her emotional turmoil.

"Within reason."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Damon's expression grew serious. "It means I won't let anyone compromise your safety."

The protective edge in his voice made Elena's newly awakened wolf practically vibrate with approval. Her logical mind, however, recognized the dangerous implications of his statement.

"I don't need a bodyguard," she said firmly. "I need a tactical partner."

"You'll have both," Damon replied without hesitation.

Elena stared at him for a long moment, cataloging the determined set of his shoulders and the unwavering intensity in his green eyes. Everything rational told her this was a mistake. But her wolf—this new part of herself she barely understood—practically sang with contentment at his proximity.

"Fine," she said, pushing herself to her feet and extending her hand toward him. "Welcome to my rebel group, Damon Gray."

He stood up and took her hand in his, shaking it as a soft smile transformed his angular features completely.

The expression caught her off guard—genuine warmth replacing his usual stoic mask.

His fingers lingered against hers longer than strictly necessary, and Elena felt her breath hitch at the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

What the hell is wrong with me? she thought, acutely aware of how her pulse quickened under his gaze. This was completely unlike her—acting this illogical and impulsively toward a complete stranger, even if he was the most attractive and devastatingly sexy stranger she'd ever encountered.

"We really need to get back to my rebel base right now," she said, reluctantly pulling her hand free and immediately missing the warmth of his touch. "I need to check on my rebel fighters and assess the damage to the warehouse."

Damon's smile faded into his usual serious expression. "Lead the way."

They made their way through the snow-covered forest, Elena's combat boots crunching through the pristine powder as November's pale afternoon light filtered through the bare branches overhead.

Her tactical vest shifted against her fitted black top with each step, the familiar weight of her weapons providing comfort despite the chaos churning in her mind.

After three grueling miles of navigating fallen logs and rocky terrain, they finally emerged from the treeline to see her base spread before them. Elena's heart clenched painfully at the sight that greeted her.

The converted warehouse looked like a war zone.

Bullet holes and shattered glass in most of the reinforced windows, the metal siding scorched black in several places, and debris littered across the snow-covered ground.

A handful of dead human operatives lay crumpled where they'd fallen, their tactical gear stark against the white landscape.

But worse—far worse—were the rebel fighters she could see among them.

Six of her people. Gone.

Elena's jaw clenched as her wolf clawed frantically at her insides, demanding she shift and hunt down every last operative who had dared attack her home and kill her friends. The primal urge to tear through the forest until she found the bastards responsible nearly overwhelmed her.

"Elena!" Maggie's voice cut through her internal battle as the rebel healer rushed across the damaged space. Relief flooded the younger woman's features as she reached them. "Thank god you're alive. I was so worried when you didn't come back."

Elena forced herself to breathe steadily, grateful when the violent urges subsided slightly. "I'm fine, Maggie. Battered but breathing."

"And who are you again?" Maggie's sharp gaze fixed on Damon with obvious wariness.

"Maggie, this is Damon Gray," Elena said, watching as more of her surviving rebel fighters approached from various points around the base. "He's the highly skilled rebel fighter from the Silvercrest pack who just saved my life. And he's my new second-in-command."

The cluster of fighters—thirteen remaining from her original twenty—gathered around them with expressions ranging from relief to suspicion. Daniel, one of her senior fighters, stepped forward with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"He's your what exactly?" Daniel asked sharply.

Elena lifted her chin, channeling every ounce of authority she'd earned over three years of leadership. "My new second-in-command. Temporarily."

The stunned silence that followed her response spoke volumes. Several of her rebel fighters exchanged incredulous glances while others simply stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Elena," Daniel said slowly, "you've known this man for all of—what, a few hours?"

"It's my call," she replied firmly, though her wolf practically purred with satisfaction at claiming Damon so publicly. "And I won't be questioned about it any further."

But secretly, she knew it was strange that she would trust Damon so quickly. Everything logical screamed that this was reckless, yet something deeper—some instinct her newly awakened wolf insisted was important—recognized him as safe. More than safe. Essential.

Damon stepped slightly closer to her, his presence solid and reassuring at her back. "This location isn't safe," he said, his authoritative tone brooking no argument. "You need to relocate immediately."

"We can't just relocate right now in the middle of winter," Elena protested, though she knew Damon was right. "Where are we supposed to go on such short notice?"

"Partner up with another rebel base nearby," Damon insisted, his eyes scanning the damaged perimeter with tactical precision. "There has to be one close."

Elena's chest tightened as she looked around the warehouse that had been her home for three years.

Every corner held memories of Tyler—planning missions in her small office, sharing meals in the communal area, and late-night strategy sessions that had shaped their rebel group into something formidable.

She'd built this place from nothing with Tyler's help, transforming an abandoned industrial building into a functioning rebel stronghold. The thought of abandoning it felt like losing another piece of him.

But Damon was right. The location was compromised.

"Fine," she said, pulling out her satellite phone with steady hands. "There's a base about twenty miles northeast. I'll make the call."

The phone rang once before a gruff voice answered. "Cade here."

"Cade, it's Elena Walsh. My base was ambushed this afternoon—we need sanctuary."

"Shit, Elena. How many casualties?"

"Six fighters down, plus massive property damage. I've got fifteen fighters including myself and my new second-in-command who need shelter."

"New second?" Cade's voice sharpened with interest, but he didn't press. "Doesn't matter. We just expanded our facilities last month. Can accommodate you easily. How soon can you get here?"

"Within four hours. I need to pack critical items first."

"I'll start preparing space. Be safe—word is Council operatives are crawling all over the territory."

Elena ended the call and turned to find Damon studying her with an unreadable expression. Something in his green eyes suggested he heard every word of her conversation despite her attempts at privacy.

"Cade's expecting us," she announced to her gathered fighters. "Start packing essential gear only. We move in thirty minutes."

As her rebels dispersed to follow orders, Elena headed toward her small office with Damon close behind. The intimate space felt even smaller with his large frame filling the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly spanning the width of the entrance.

"Three years," she said quietly, beginning to empty desk drawers with mechanical efficiency. "Tyler and I built this place from scratch three years ago."

Damon moved to help her without being asked, his large hands carefully packing her tactical gear into military-grade duffel bags. "It's never easy leaving home behind."

Elena's throat tightened as she placed Tyler's favorite coffee mug—one he'd insisted on keeping despite the chip in the handle—into protective wrapping. Her whole life for the past three years was being reduced to a few bags.

The magnitude of change that had occurred in just three days hit her like a tidal wave.

Tyler's death. Her beloved rebel base damaged and compromised.

Eight good fighters gone. The earth-shattering revelation that she was a hybrid, not a full shifter like her father had led her to believe.

Appointing this mysterious yet dangerously alluring man as her second-in-command despite knowing him for mere hours.

Her entire world had been flipped upside down.

Yet despite all the chaos and storm of emotions churning through her mind, Elena found herself stealing glances at Damon as he efficiently helped pack her belongings.

The way he handled her weapons with obvious familiarity, the careful attention he paid to protecting her more delicate items, and the respectful distance he maintained while still being thoroughly helpful.

An odd sense of trust was beginning to form between them—fragile but undeniable.