Page 25 of Rebel for Claws (Rebellious Mates #4)

NINETEEN

VIVIAN

D awn broke cold and merciless across the December landscape as Vivian adjusted the straps of her tactical harness one final time.

The winter gear felt constricting against her skin—thick thermal layers beneath waterproof outer shells and heavy boots that would normally slow her supernatural speed.

But tracking Thorne through hostile mountainous territory demanded preparation over comfort.

She watched Alaric emerge from his mansion, his commanding presence undimmed despite the bulky winter clothing.

Even bundled in tactical gear, he moved with the fluid grace of a predator, his eyes sharp and alert as they surveyed the snow-covered grounds.

The sight of him sent familiar heat coursing through her body, their mate bond humming with awareness despite the gravity of their mission.

Focus. We have a job to do.

"Ready?" Alaric's voice carried easily across the frozen air, his breath forming small clouds as he spoke.

Vivian nodded, shouldering her pack containing their supplies for the fifty-mile journey. The custom-forged blades felt reassuring against her back, their familiar weight grounding her racing thoughts. "Let's bring that bastard to justice."

They set out into the pristine wilderness, their boots crunching through the fresh powder that had fallen overnight.

The silence between them was comfortable, both lost in their own preparations and strategies.

Vivian's enhanced senses cataloged every detail of their surroundings—the sharp scent of pine, the distant call of winter birds, and the way the morning light filtered through the snow-laden branches.

Thirty miles to the first rest stop. Twenty more to Thorne's hideout.

The repetitive motion of walking gradually loosened the tension in her shoulders. Despite the circumstances, being alone with Alaric in the wilderness felt right and so natural. As if they were meant to move through the world together from now on, partners in every sense of the word.

Hours passed in steady progress through the deepening snow. Vivian's thoughts turned dark as they trekked westward, her fury renewed over the lost evidence. Those ancient scrolls had been irreplaceable—centuries of documented proof about Thorne's manipulations and the true history of the Severance.

Such a novice mistake. Thirty human operatives and I lose focus on protecting our most valuable assets.

"Stop torturing yourself," Alaric said suddenly, not breaking stride. His enhanced hearing had probably caught her frustrated sigh.

"I should have held onto that bag," she replied, her voice tight with self-recrimination. "Should have found a way to?—"

"You were fighting for your life," he interrupted. "And you helped save all of us, remember?"

Vivian appreciated his attempt at comfort, but the guilt still gnawed at her. Those scrolls had been their smoking gun, their proof of three centuries of corruption and manipulation. Now Thorne had them, along with detailed knowledge of exactly what they knew and how they'd obtained it.

He'll be ready for us.

The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it sent a thrill of anticipation through her blood. She was eager for the confrontation, hungry to face the monster again who had orchestrated so much suffering. This time, she wouldn't let him escape.

By afternoon, thick snowflakes began falling steadily from the grey sky, muffling their footsteps and reducing visibility.

Vivian pulled her hood up but kept her enhanced senses alert for any signs of danger.

The wilderness felt empty around them, devoid of the human operatives she'd expected to encounter.

Too quiet. Thorne wouldn't leave his escape route unguarded.

When they finally spotted a small, deserted hut nestled among a grove of evergreens, Vivian felt relief flood through her aching muscles. Thirty miles of hiking through snow had tested even her supernatural endurance and strength.

"We'll rest here for the night," Alaric said, heading toward the structure.

The hut was clearly abandoned—no recent tracks in the snow, and the windows dark and frost-covered. But it would provide shelter from the increasingly heavy snowfall.

Alaric activated his communications device, his voice professional as he updated their backup team. "Base camp established. Twenty miles from target. Will resume at dawn."

Logan's voice crackled through the static. "Copy that. We've located shelter approximately three miles behind your position. Cave system that should keep us warm and hidden."

"Acknowledged. Maintain radio silence until morning unless there's an emergency."

Vivian pushed open the hut's weathered door, grateful to escape the biting wind. The single room was sparse but functional—a stone fireplace, rough wooden furniture, and shuttered windows that would keep out the worst of the weather.

Perfect for what we need tonight.

Alaric set to work building a fire while Vivian secured the windows and checked for any signs of recent occupation. The domestic routine felt strangely intimate, as if they were any ordinary couple seeking shelter from a storm rather than two deadly predators hunting an ancient enemy.

Soon flames crackled merrily in the stone hearth, casting dancing shadows across the weathered walls. Vivian pulled sandwiches and water from her pack, settling cross-legged on the worn rug near the fire. The warmth felt incredible after hours in the bitter cold.

"Efficient work," she observed, watching Alaric tend the flames with practiced ease.

"Thirty years of midnight runs in all weather," he replied, settling beside her. "You learn to appreciate proper fire-building techniques."

They ate in companionable silence for several minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. But as the warmth and food gradually relaxed her defenses, Vivian found old memories stirring—dark recollections she'd spent twenty years trying to bury.

Maybe it's time. Maybe he deserves to know what made me into this deadly predator.

"Alaric," she said quietly, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames. "I need to tell you something. About my family. About why I became what I am."

His grey eyes fixed on her face, alert and attentive. "I'm listening."

Vivian took a shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly as she set down her sandwich. The words felt like shards of glass in her throat, cutting and painful.

"I was fifteen when my powers fully manifested," she began, her voice growing steadier with each word. "My grandfather was away on one of his hunting trips, and I was alone at our mountain cabin with my parents and younger brother."

The memories rushed back with vivid, terrible clarity—the sound of vehicles approaching through the forest, her mother's sharp intake of breath as she peered through the curtains, and her father's urgent whisper for everyone to hide.

"Human hunters came to our home," Vivian continued, her eyes distant and haunted. "They'd somehow tracked us despite all of grandfather's precautions. I remember my father shoving me toward the secret passage that led to my treehouse, telling me to run and not look back no matter what I heard."

Alaric shifted closer, his presence warm and reassuring beside her. She could feel his controlled fury radiating through the mate bond—not at her, but at the monsters who had destroyed her family.

"But I didn't listen," she whispered, tears beginning to track down her cheeks. "I climbed to the highest platform of my treehouse and watched through the branches as they dragged my family outside. The hunters kept demanding to know where 'the girl with the ancient blood' was hiding."

Her voice broke completely then, twenty years of suppressed grief and trauma finally spilling over.

"They executed my parents and brother on our front lawn while I watched from the trees.

Shot them like animals while they begged for their lives.

And I just... I just hid there like a coward, too terrified to move or make a sound. "

Alaric's arms came around her immediately, pulling her against his chest as violent sobs wracked her body. She buried her face in his thermal shirt, breathing in his comforting scent while the old wounds bled fresh.

"When grandfather found me three days later, I was still huddled in that treehouse, catatonic with shock and grief," she managed between gasps. "I didn't speak for weeks. Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything but relive that moment over and over."

"Vivian," Alaric murmured against her hair, his voice thickening with emotion. "I'm so sorry you had to endure that."

"My grandfather blamed himself," she continued, the words pouring out now that the dam had broken.

"Said he should have been there to protect us and should have taught me to fight sooner.

From that day forward, he dedicated every waking moment to turning me into a deadly weapon.

No more childhood, no more innocence—just endless training and preparation so I'd never be helpless again. "

Alaric's hands stroked her hair with infinite gentleness, his Alpha strength wrapped around her like a shield. "You survived. You became strong enough to protect others. Your family would be proud of the woman you've become."

"Would they?" Vivian pulled back to meet his eyes, her face streaked with tears. "I've killed so many people, Alaric. Human operatives, corrupt pack members, anyone who threatened innocent lives. Sometimes I wonder if I'm any better than the monsters I fight."

"You are nothing like them," he said firmly, his grey eyes blazing with conviction. "Nothing. You fight to protect the innocent and to create a better world. They kill for power and control. There's no comparison."

His thumbs brushed away her tears with heartbreaking tenderness. "You can tell me anything, Vivian. Every dark thought, every painful memory, every fear that keeps you awake at night. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You're not alone anymore, and you never will be again."

The promise in his voice broke something loose in her—a knot of isolation and self-protection she'd carried for two decades. Looking into his eyes, she saw truth and acceptance and a love so fierce it took her breath away.

This is what it means to have a fated mate. Someone who sees all your broken pieces and loves you anyway.

"I love you," she whispered, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of her entire heart.

"I love you too," he replied, his forehead resting gently against hers. "More than I ever thought possible. And I swear to you, we're going to make Thorne pay for everything he's done. To your family, to mine, to everyone who's suffered under his reign of terror."

The fire popped and settled, sending sparks up the chimney as snow continued to fall outside their temporary shelter.

But wrapped in Alaric's arms, sharing her deepest pain with the man who would stand beside her through anything, Vivian finally felt the cold knot of grief in her chest begin to thaw.

Tomorrow they would face Thorne and reclaim their stolen evidence. Tonight, she was exactly where she belonged—in the arms of her loving, protective, perfect mate.