Page 24 of Rebel for Claws (Rebellious Mates #4)

EIGHTEEN

ALARIC

A laric's footsteps echoed through the marble hallways of his mansion like gunshots, each stride driven by a mixture of fury and self-loathing that threatened to consume him whole.

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, the scar on his jaw standing out starkly against his clenched features.

God, what have I done?

The words he'd thrown at Vivian— I need to think without you clouding my judgment —rang in his ears like a death knell. The look on her beautiful face when he'd said it, the way her eyes had gone wide with hurt and shock, made something twist violently in his chest.

Complete jackass. Thirty years of hiding behind fear and control, and the moment something truly matters, I revert to the same cowardly bastard I've always been.

He pushed through the heavy oak doors of his personal gym, the familiar scent of leather and steel doing nothing to calm the storm raging inside him. The afternoon light filtered through the massive windows, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floors and gleaming equipment.

Alaric moved toward the weapons rack with deadly purpose, his eyes already shifting toward gold with the fierce intensity of his emotions.

He selected a hand-forged blade—perfectly balanced steel that felt like an extension of his own body.

The weight of it in his palm was comforting, familiar in a way that nothing else in his life seemed to be anymore.

She was trying to be optimistic. She was fighting for our future while I ran away like the coward I've always been.

The first swing of the sword cut through the air with lethal precision, his muscles flowing through movements honed by decades of training.

But even as his body moved through the familiar routine, his mind couldn't escape the memory of Vivian—her green cashmere sweater hugging her curves, her silver-blonde hair flowing like silk around her shoulders, and those incredible violet eyes blazing with determination even as he'd crushed her spirit with his words.

Old habits die hard, he thought bitterly, pivoting into a complex sequence of attacks and parries. Thirty years of shutting people out, of choosing duty over love, of hiding behind the Alpha mask instead of being real.

The blade sang through the air as he moved, but the familiar motions couldn't block out the guilt eating at him like acid.

She'd been right about everything—about the prophecy, about fighting for their future, about not letting fear dictate their choices.

And he'd repaid her courage and optimism by lashing out like a wounded animal.

She deserves better than a broken Alpha who ? —

The gym doors burst open with enough force to make the heavy oak slam against the stone walls. Alaric spun, sword still raised, his enhanced senses immediately identifying the intruder even as his heart leaped into his throat.

Vivian stood in the doorway like an avenging goddess, her violet eyes blazing with fury and determination.

Her green cashmere sweater clung to her curves, and her dark jeans hugged her long legs perfectly.

Her leather boots clicked against the floor as she strode into the room, her silver-blonde hair flowing behind her like a battle banner.

"You don't get to run away from me," she said firmly. "And you sure as hell don't get to run away from our future."

Alaric lowered his sword, mesmerized by the fierce beauty before him. The mate bond roared between them, carrying waves of her anger and hurt, but underneath it all he could feel something else—unwavering determination and a love so fierce it took his breath away.

"You need to man up," she continued, stepping closer until she was within arm's reach, completely unfazed by his size or the weapon in his hands.

"Take this prophecy—good or bad—head on and deal with the consequences.

That's what Alphas do, isn't it? Face their fears instead of hiding in a gym like a petulant child? "

Despite the churning emotions in his chest, Alaric felt a wave of pure pride wash over him.

Here was his mate—this fierce, incredible woman—standing toe to toe with him, unafraid to call him out on his bullshit.

No one had ever dared speak to him like that.

The combination of her defiance and the fire in her eyes sent heat coursing through his veins.

God, she's perfect.

"Vivian—" he began, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"No. You don't get to speak right now. You get to listen.

" Her chin lifted with stubborn determination.

"I don't care if this prophecy means we unite every wolf in the territory or burn the whole damn thing to the ground.

What I care about is that we face it together, as equals, as partners.

Not with you treating me like some inconvenience that clouds your precious judgment. "

The sword fell from Alaric's numb fingers, clattering to the floor as the full weight of his mistake crashed over him. She was right. She was absolutely right, and he'd been a fool to think otherwise.

With this woman by my side, anything is possible.

"You're right," he said, his voice roughened with emotion. "You're absolutely right, and I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry, Vivian."

He stepped closer, close enough to smell her intoxicating scent—wildflowers and steel, strength and femininity combined in perfect harmony. His eyes had shifted fully to gold now, blazing with intensity as he looked at her.

"I let fear control me, just like I have for the past thirty years," he continued. "And I took it out on you—the one person who's been brave enough to fight for us, for our future."

Her eyes searched his face, looking for sincerity, for truth. He laid himself absolutely bare, letting her see everything—the fear, the guilt, and the desperate love that threatened to overwhelm him.

"I won't let fear dictate my life anymore," he vowed. "I want to stand and fight for our future. But only if you'll forgive me. Only if you still want me fighting by your side."

For a moment, she just stared at him, and Alaric felt his heart stop beating in his chest. Then her expression softened slightly, though the fire in her eyes remained.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" she said. "If I wasn't willing to fight for us, I would have gone back to my rebel base instead of chasing after your stubborn ass." She paused, her voice dropping to something softer and more vulnerable. "I wouldn't still be here if I wasn't madly in love with you."

The words hit him like a lightning bolt. Alaric stared at her in shock, his enhanced hearing picking up the rapid flutter of her heartbeat and the slight tremor in her voice that betrayed just how much courage it had taken for her to make that admission.

"You love me?" he asked softly.

"Yes, you impossible man," she said, her cheeks flushing pink. "Despite only knowing you for a week, despite all the chaos and danger surrounding us, despite you being an absolute jackass fifteen minutes ago—yes, I love you."

The confession shattered something inside Alaric's chest, something that had been frozen and locked away for thirteen long years. The walls he'd built around his heart crumbled like paper, leaving him raw and exposed and more alive than he'd felt in decades.

"I love you too," he said, the words torn from somewhere deep in his soul. "God, Vivian, I love you so much it terrifies me. And I swear to you—I will do whatever it takes to fight for us and to protect what we have."

He reached for her then, his large hands cupping her face with reverent gentleness. "But you know this hidden clause changes everything, don't you? It paints an even bigger target on both our backs. The fate of our entire shifter world is in our hands now."

Vivian's lips curved into a smile that was equal parts fierce and tender. "I wouldn't want it to be in anyone else's hands," she said. "Our hands are the most capable."

Alaric couldn't help but agree with his brilliant, fearless mate. Whatever came next, they would face it together.

Suddenly, Logan Cross stood framed in the doorway of Alaric's personal gym, his dark auburn hair disheveled and his green eyes blazing with urgency. The man's powerful frame was tense with barely contained energy, his tactical clothing wrinkled as if he'd run the entire distance to the mansion.

What the hell now?

"Reports just came in," Logan said without preamble, his voice cutting through the air. "Thorne has fled the Pacific Northwest Cascade territory."

Alaric felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. Beside him, Vivian went perfectly still, her eyes wide with shock and growing fury.

"That's not the worst part," Logan continued, his jaw clenched tight. "He took the tactical bag. The one with all your evidence—the ancient scrolls and the journals that tied him directly to the Severance and the pre-Severance planning. It's all gone."

The words hit Alaric like physical blows. He watched as Vivian's face went through a rapid succession of emotions—shock, disbelief, and then a rage so pure and devastating it made the air around her practically vibrate with dangerous energy.

"No," she whispered, her hands clenching into fists. "No, no, no. How could I have been so stupid?"

Alaric's protective instincts roared to life as he watched his mate begin to spiral into self-recrimination. He moved toward her, his eyes blazing gold with the intensity of his wolf pressing close to the surface.

She's blaming herself for what happened during a life-or-death situation. Like hell I'll let her carry that burden.

"Vivian, stop," he said firmly. "You had thirty human operatives pointing rifles at your head yesterday at Moon Hollow. It's completely understandable that protecting our evidence wasn't your top priority when your life was in imminent danger."

But Vivian wasn't listening. She began pacing the length of the gym like a caged predator, her silver-blonde hair flowing behind her as she moved with that preternatural grace that marked her as something far more dangerous than any ordinary shifter.

"I dropped the bag when the shooting started," she said, her voice tight with fury—at herself, at the situation, at Thorne. "Such a rookie mistake. All that proof, centuries of documented corruption, gone because I couldn't maintain focus under pressure."

"That's enough," Alaric growled, catching her arm as she paced past him. The contact sent electricity shooting through his nervous system, the mate bond humming with shared emotion. "You helped save our lives yesterday. The evidence means nothing if we're all dead."

Vivian jerked away from his touch, her violet eyes blazing as she spun to face him. "But now Thorne has everything he needs to disappear forever. He has proof of what we know, which means he can stay ahead of us indefinitely."

The desperation in her voice cut through Alaric like a blade. He could see the warrior in her warring with the strategist, both sides frustrated by what felt like an insurmountable setback. But beneath that, he could sense something else—a fierce determination that refused to accept defeat.

"Someone needs to go after him," Vivian said suddenly, her chin lifting with stubborn resolve. "I volunteer to pursue him into the surrounding territory and hunt him down, regardless of the risk involved."

"Absolutely not," Alaric replied immediately. "You're not going anywhere alone, especially not into hostile territory where Thorne can set traps and ambushes."

Vivian's eyes flashed with challenge. "I have expert tracking skills and abilities that will allow me to find him faster than anyone else. My enhanced senses, my ability to shift partially into different animal forms—I can track him in ways your enforcers and guards never could."

The argument made logical sense, which only made Alaric's protective instincts rage harder against it. The thought of his mate venturing into danger alone, potentially walking into one of Thorne's elaborate traps, made his wolf howl with denial.

She's brilliant, deadly, and completely capable. But she's also the most important thing in my world, and I'll be damned if I let her face this alone.

"If we're doing this, I'm going with you," he stated, leaving no room for argument. "I know Thorne's tactics and hideouts better than anyone after working with him for thirty years. I know how he thinks, where he'd run, what kind of contingency plans he'd have in place."

Logan cleared his throat from his position near the doorway, drawing both their attention. "Actually, I have a suggestion that might work for both of you."

Alaric turned toward his Beta, noting the calculating expression on the man's face. Logan Cross had always been a strategic thinker, able to see angles and possibilities that others missed.

"I can organize a backup group," Logan continued. "Damon, Elena, Zoe, Kieran, Malcolm, and Maya. We'll follow at a three-mile distance to maintain operational security for your stealth mission, but close enough to provide assistance if things go sideways."

The plan had merit, Alaric had to admit. It would allow him and Vivian to move fast and quiet while still having reinforcements within striking distance if Thorne proved more dangerous than anticipated.

And it means I don't have to choose between keeping her safe and stopping the bastard who's been manipulating our world for three centuries.

"That could work," Alaric said slowly, his tactical mind already running through possible scenarios. "We'd have the mobility and stealth advantage while maintaining backup support."

Vivian's violet eyes lit up with fierce satisfaction. "Then we're agreed. We head out first thing tomorrow morning."

The determination in her voice sent heat coursing through Alaric's veins.

His beautiful yet deadly mate was completely unafraid to walk into danger if it meant protecting their world.

The combination of her courage and that fire in her violet eyes made something primal and possessive ignite deep within him.

She is everything I could ever want and everything I never knew I truly needed.