Page 18 of Rebel for Claws (Rebellious Mates #4)

But it was Thorne who commanded the space with his imposing presence and those ice-blue eyes that missed nothing.

The bastard looked exactly as he had a week ago just before Alaric attacked him in that sterile room he'd been held captive in—powerful, controlled, and utterly convinced of his own superiority.

You have no idea what's coming for you.

"Before we begin," Elder Callum's voice carried easily across the pavilion, "we acknowledge the return of Alpha Alaric Silvercrest from his... unfortunate absence."

Alaric inclined his head with just enough deference to maintain his cover. "Grateful to be back among my fellow leaders."

Thorne's lips curved into what might have been mistaken for a smile by anyone who didn't know the depths of his corruption. "Indeed. Such a mysterious disappearance. I trust you've recovered from whatever... ailment... kept you away."

Ailment. As if five months of captivity and experimentation were some minor inconvenience.

"Completely recovered," Alaric replied evenly, letting none of his rage leak into his voice. "Ready to resume my duties to the pack and the Council."

The formal proceedings began with Elder Callum reading minutes from the previous quarterly meeting—the one Alaric had missed due to his captivity.

Each word sent fresh waves of anger through him as he was forced to sit there, watching Thorne carry on as if he hadn't orchestrated the entire kidnapping.

Thirty minutes until Vivian infiltrates. Twenty-nine minutes, fifty-eight seconds.

He found himself counting down like a man waiting for salvation, which wasn't far from the truth. Through the mate bond, he could sense Vivian's determination and barely controlled anticipation as she waited with Kieran, Malcolm, Logan, and Damon at the perimeter.

"The matter of hybrid integration continues to cause... discord," Elder Merrick said, his weathered face creased with concern. "Several pack territories have reported increased human operative activity."

Human operatives you're employing, you corrupt bastards.

"Indeed troubling," Thorne interjected smoothly. "Which is why the Council's position remains firm. The Severance laws exist to protect our shifter kind from contamination and exposure."

Fifteen minutes.

Alpha Garrett of the Granite Ridge pack shifted uncomfortably beside Alaric. "With respect, Elder Thorne, some of us question whether these laws still serve their intended purpose."

Thorne's eyes flashed dangerously. "Are you suggesting the Council's wisdom is... flawed, Alpha Garrett?"

Ten minutes.

The tension in the pavilion ratcheted higher as other pack leaders began voicing concerns about the Council's increasingly extreme methods. Alaric told himself to remain silent, playing the role of the traditional Alpha who deferred to Council authority.

Five minutes.

His enhanced hearing caught the almost inaudible sound of movement in the forest beyond the pavilion—Kieran and the others getting into position. Through his and Vivian's mate bond, he felt her pulse quicken as she prepared for her dramatic entrance.

Three minutes.

"Furthermore," Thorne continued, his voice taking on that commanding tone that had intimidated shifters for centuries, "reports suggest that descendants of extinct bloodlines may still?—"

The massive wooden doors at the pavilion's rear entrance exploded inward with a sound like thunder.

Vivian strode through in all her dangerous glory, the black tactical gear molded to her athletic frame like a second skin.

Twin handcrafted swords crossed her back in perfect symmetry.

Throwing knives glinted from her hip holsters, and she moved with that predatory grace that marked her as something far more deadly than any ordinary shifter.

My God, she's magnificent. And walking straight into the lion's den.

Every eye in the pavilion fixed on her as she advanced with purposeful strides, her violet eyes blazing with righteous fury. The assembled Alphas and pack leaders leaped to their feet, confusion and alarm rippling through the crowd.

"If you want me dead, Thorne," Vivian's voice rang out clear and fearless across the sacred ground, "instead of sending your Council operatives to hunt me like a coward, here I am. Come and get me."

My brave, reckless, perfect mate.

But she wasn't finished. As Thorne rose slowly from his seat, his face twisted in cold fury, Vivian pulled forth the ancient scrolls and leather-bound journals from her tactical pack.

"While you're deciding whether to face me yourself," she continued, her voice carrying to every corner of the pavilion, "perhaps everyone here would be interested in knowing exactly who you really are."

Here we go.

"You personally orchestrated the Severance three centuries ago," Vivian declared, holding the ancient texts high. "You're the one who deliberately separated the Silvercrest bloodline from human magical lineages to prevent a prophecy that threatened your power."

Gasps and murmurs erupted from the assembled shifters. Several elders looked genuinely shocked, while others exchanged worried glances.

"On top of that, you've been conducting experiments on shifters, hybrids, and humans in medical facilities across Granite Ridge territory," she pressed on relentlessly.

"Alpha Alaric can testify to that since you held him captive for five months, experimenting on him while gloating about every terrible thing you've done. "

Every word was truth. Every accusation hitting its mark.

"And while you publicly claim to protect our shifter kind from human contamination," Vivian's voice rose to fill the entire pavilion, "you've been employing human operatives for three centuries to do your cruel bidding.

To hunt down hybrids. To eliminate anyone who threatens your stranglehold on power. "

The pavilion erupted into chaos. Pack leaders shouted questions and demands for answers. Several elders looked genuinely stunned by the revelations, while others appeared more concerned about damage control.

Thorne's face had gone completely white except for two spots of burning color on his cheeks. When he spoke, his voice carried the deadly promise of violence.

"Enough."

The single word cut through the chaos like a blade. He raised one hand, and the sound of footsteps echoed from every entrance to the pavilion as dozens of armed figures in tactical gear poured into the sacred space.

Human operatives. More than we planned for.

Alaric's blood turned to ice as he counted at least thirty heavily armed humans taking strategic positions throughout the pavilion. Their weapons were trained not just on Vivian, but on several of the pack leaders who had been voicing dissent.

This is going sideways fast.

Alaric felt Vivian's surprise but not fear through their mate bond. She'd expected resistance, but not this overwhelming show of force in the heart of sacred neutral ground.

Thorne smiled then, and it was the most terrifying expression Alaric had ever seen on the ancient wolf shifter's face. "Did you really think you could waltz into my domain and threaten everything I've built over four centuries?"

His voice carried easily across the now-silent pavilion. "Kill her. Kill anyone who stands with her. And make sure the survivors understand what happens to those who challenge the natural order in our territory."

The human operatives raised their weapons as one, the distinctive sound of safeties clicking off echoing like a death knell through the sacred space.

Alaric's control finally snapped.

His mate—his brave, brilliant, deadly mate—was about to face down an army, and he'd be damned if he sat there playing politics while she fought for her life.

Time to stop pretending for good.

The Alpha power that had been building inside him since the mate bond formed surged forward like a dam bursting. His eyes blazed gold as he rose from his seat, thirty years of deception and careful control finally shattered.

"Thorne, if anyone harms a single hair on her head," Alaric growled, "I'll tear you apart limb by limb while everyone here watches."