Page 2 of Rebel for Claws (Rebellious Mates #4)

Vivian's ancient magic responded to the emotional weight of her discovery, her eyes beginning to glow with that telltale golden light. The truth burned in her chest like molten metal. How many hybrid children had been murdered? How many magical bloodlines had been severed forever?

The cabin's security systems should have alerted her to any approach.

Her enhanced senses, sharpened by a lifetime of hiding and survival, should have detected the slightest intrusion.

But she'd become so absorbed in decoding the ancient texts, so lost in the magnitude of what she'd uncovered, that her usual vigilance had faltered.

The first indication of danger came not from her senses, but from the subtle shift in air pressure as her office window opened with practiced silence.

Before she could react, before she could even turn from her desk, powerful arms encircled her from behind. A large hand clamped over her mouth, muffling any cry for help before it could form. The man's hold was professional and controlled—designed to subdue without causing injury.

How did they get past my defenses?

Vivian's body tensed, every instinct screaming to fight, but her attacker's positioning was flawless. He'd neutralized her leverage points with tactical precision that spoke of extensive combat training.

"Easy," a deep voice murmured near her ear, the tone surprisingly gentle despite the circumstances. "We're not here to hurt you."

A second figure moved through her peripheral vision—a woman with blonde hair and tactical gear, her movements fluid and purposeful. She approached Vivian's desk with obvious understanding of what lay there, carefully gathering the ancient scrolls and journals into a leather satchel.

Vivian tested her captor's hold, searching for weakness, but found none. The man's strength was impressive even by shifter standards, his grip unyielding yet careful not to restrict her breathing.

"We could have done this messily, but that wasn't our goal. You're coming with us because your life is in danger, not because we mean you harm," the woman said, grabbing the last of the documents.

My life in danger? From whom?

The man behind her shifted his hold, producing restraints with one hand while maintaining control with the other. "Flex-cuffs," he explained quietly. "Temporary restraint for everyone's safety during transport. You'll understand soon enough."

Vivian's mind raced through escape scenarios, but her captors moved with the synchronized efficiency of a long-established partnership. The woman finished securing the documents while the man bound Vivian's wrists with practiced ease.

"The Council's operatives are already mobilizing to hunt you down," the woman said, shouldering the satchel containing centuries of hidden truth.

Council operatives. Their death squads.

"We're leaving now," the man stated, his tone brooking no argument. "Quietly, through the window. Your team's safety depends on them remaining asleep and unaware of what just happened here."

They moved her toward the window with careful coordination, their tactical gear allowing them to navigate the snowy ledge outside her office.

Vivian's enhanced senses finally engaged fully, cataloging details about her captors.

The man smelled of winter forest and something uniquely wolf.

The woman carried the scent of determination and barely contained worry, mixed with undertones of a hybrid wolf.

Who are they?

The December night bit through her clothes as they guided her along the cabin's exterior. Snow crunched softly beneath their tactical boots as they headed toward the vast forest.

"Three miles to extraction," the woman whispered into her phone. "Package secured, some ancient documents retrieved. No casualties."

Package?

The trek through the snowy forest tested Vivian's stamina despite her enhanced conditioning.

Her captors set a grueling pace, their knowledge of the terrain suggesting extensive reconnaissance.

They avoided the main trails, instead following game paths and natural corridors that would mask their passage.

"Almost there," the man said during one brief rest, his green eyes scanning the treeline with professional alertness.

When they finally reached the extraction point, Vivian had to admire their preparation. Their camouflaged vehicle blended seamlessly with the winter landscape, its modification suggesting extensive resources.

Who are these people?

They loaded her into the truck, the woman climbing in beside her while the man took the driver's seat. The engine turned over with a muffled rumble.

"Where are you taking me?" Vivian demanded, finally finding her voice as they pulled away from the forest.

"Somewhere safe," the woman replied, her light blue eyes holding depths that spoke of personal understanding of danger. "Somewhere the Council can't reach you."

Safe. Nothing's been safe since my family and my ancestors were murdered.

The truck moved through the night with purpose, carrying Vivian away from everything familiar toward an uncertain destination. The ancient scrolls and journals that contained the truth about her heritage now rested in the hands of strangers who claimed to be protectors.

But protectors of what?