Page 28 of Rebel for Claws (Rebellious Mates #4)

TWENTY-TWO

ALARIC

T he sound of snow crunching under tactical boots announced the arrival of their backup team.

Alaric's enhanced senses had tracked their approach from over a mile away—Logan's steady heartbeat, Kieran's determined stride, and the controlled breathing of the other five seasoned fighters moving through the hostile territory.

Logan emerged first from the treeline, his auburn hair dusted with snow and his green eyes immediately scanning the tactical situation below.

Behind him came the others in perfect formation: Damon and Elena moving like synchronized shadows, Kieran's commanding presence unmistakable even in full winter gear, Malcolm's charm replaced by cold focus, Maya's copper hair tucked beneath her hood, and Zoe bringing up the rear with weapons gleaming at her hip.

"Status?" Logan's voice was a whisper as he dropped into position beside Alaric's concealed vantage point.

"Fifty-plus operatives visible, unknown numbers inside the buildings," Alaric reported, his newly enhanced vision picking up details that would have been impossible to see before.

"Specialized anti-magical weapons in those crates.

Thorne's got our evidence bag and he's standing by that black vehicle—looks like he's preparing to leave. "

Vivian's jaw tightened as she adjusted her tactical harness, her twin blades catching the winter sunlight. "We don't have time for a prolonged assault. If he gets in that vehicle..."

"Then we go with a quick grab-and-go," Kieran said, his fierce authority cutting through the tension. "Minimal engagement, maximum speed."

Damon studied the layout through his binoculars, his analytical mind already calculating trajectories and escape routes. "The vehicle's position gives us one advantage—it's isolated from the main cluster of operatives. If we can get close enough..."

"Vivian and I will infiltrate," Alaric decided, his protective instincts warring with tactical necessity.

Every fiber of his being screamed against putting his mate in danger, but her supernatural agility and his enhanced abilities made them the logical choice.

"The rest of you maintain overwatch and be ready to provide covering fire. "

Elena checked her weapons with practiced efficiency. "What if it's a trap? Thorne's too smart to expose himself like this."

The question hung in the frigid air like a death omen, but Vivian was already moving, her eyes blazing with determination. "Then we spring it on our terms."

Stubborn, brilliant, dangerous woman. Pride and terror fought for dominance within Alaric.

They descended through the snow-laden forest with supernatural stealth, Alaric's enhanced senses mapping every heartbeat in the compound while Vivian moved with the fluid grace of a predator born for this moment.

The winter air carried the metallic scent of weapons and the acrid smell of human fear—the operatives knew something was coming.

Fifty yards from the perimeter, Alaric held up a closed fist. Through the tactical earpiece, Logan's voice crackled: "Seven guards between you and the target. Vehicle engine's running."

He's definitely planning to leave. Alaric's wolf prowled beneath his skin, demanding action, demanding blood for the months of captivity and the years of manipulation.

Vivian's hand found his shoulder, her touch grounding him even as battle readiness coursed through their shared bond. "Together," she whispered.

They moved as one entity, shadows against snow, death incarnate in tactical gear.

Alaric's enhanced strength made silent takedowns effortless while Vivian's supernatural speed left unconscious guards in their wake.

Every step brought them closer to Thorne, and closer to the evidence that could end this war.

Twenty feet from the vehicle, Vivian's fingers were almost close enough to touch the tactical bag when Thorne's voice cut through the winter air like a blade.

"Now!"

How the hell— Alaric's thought shattered as tactical lights blazed to life around the compound, turning their cover into a killing field. Hidden positions revealed themselves as fifty weapons trained on their location.

He knew. The bastard knew we were coming.

"Ambush!" Vivian's voice carried over their comm system as she dove for cover behind a supply crate. "How did he detect us?"

Alaric's mind raced even as his body moved on pure instinct, rolling behind concrete barriers as bullets shredded the air where they'd been standing. Unless he has enhanced abilities himself...

The sharp whistle that tore from Alaric's lips carried the unmistakable command of an Alpha in battle—the signal for their backup team to engage. Almost immediately, the sound of return fire echoed from the ridge as Logan, Damon, and the others provided covering fire.

But fifty against nine were impossible odds, even with their supernatural advantages.

The battle erupted into controlled chaos—Vivian's blades singing through the air as she took down operatives with lethal precision, and Alaric's enhanced strength allowing him to tear through defensive positions like paper.

Behind them, the distinctive crack of Elena's sniper fire and the thunderous roar of Logan's assault rifle provided a deadly symphony.

We can do this. Alaric's confidence surged as he watched his mate move like liquid death, her supernatural abilities making her untouchable. We can actually ? —

The silver-enhanced blade appeared from nowhere, arcing toward his heart with professional precision. Time slowed to a crawl as Alaric recognized the killing stroke, saw the specialized weapon designed to pierce Alpha hearts, and felt death approaching with cold certainty.

Then Vivian was there.

"Alaric!" Her scream tore through the battlefield as she threw herself between him and the blade, her body absorbing the strike meant for his heart.

The silver-enhanced sword pierced her side with a wet, horrible sound that would haunt Alaric's nightmares forever. Blood—bright red and far too much of it—spread across her tactical gear as she collapsed against him.

No. No, no, NO.

Something primal and terrifying erupted from Alaric's chest—a roar that shook snow from the surrounding trees and sent every human operative stumbling backward in primal fear. His eyes blazed gold as power he'd never felt before coursed through his veins like molten lightning.

The world became crystal clear and diamond sharp. Every heartbeat within a hundred yards registered in his consciousness. Every scent, every sound, every threat crystallized into perfect tactical awareness.

Protect your mate. Destroy the threat.

Bodies flew as Alaric carved a path of destruction through the operatives, his enhanced abilities making him unstoppable. Concrete cracked under his fists. Steel bent beneath his grip. Men twice his size went down like wheat before a scythe.

When the path was clear, he gathered Vivian's bleeding form in his arms, her violet eyes fluttering with pain and shock. "I've got you," he promised, his voice rough with emotion and supernatural power.

Behind them, the sounds of battle continued as their team fought to retrieve the evidence bag, but Alaric's entire world had narrowed to the woman in his arms and the spreading stain of blood on her tactical gear.

She took a blade meant for me. She saved my life.

The forest welcomed them as he carried her to safety, every step measured and careful despite the chaos behind them.

Through their earpieces, he could hear Damon's tactical assessments and Elena's sharp commands, but his focus remained laser-focused on his mate's breathing, on keeping her conscious, on getting her somewhere he could assess the damage.

Don't you dare leave me, Vivian. Not after everything we've been through.

Two miles into the forest, Alaric found a small clearing sheltered by towering evergreens and gently lowered Vivian onto the snow-covered ground. His enhanced senses swept the perimeter automatically—no immediate threats and no human operatives pursuing them through the dense woodland.

Focus. Assess the damage first, then worry about everything else.

With trembling hands, he carefully peeled back the torn fabric of her tactical gear. The silver-enhanced blade had sliced through her left side, missing vital organs by mere inches. Blood seeped steadily from the wound, staining the pristine snow beneath her with crimson drops.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Vivian whispered through gritted teeth, though her violet eyes were clouded with pain.

"Don't you dare downplay this," Alaric responded as he ripped strips from his thermal henley, the fabric tearing easily under his enhanced strength. "You took a blade meant for me. A silver blade."

She could have died. She could have died protecting me.

The realization hit him with staggering force, stealing his breath and making his hands shake as he pressed the makeshift bandages against her wound.

Never in his forty-eight years had anyone willingly put themselves between him and death—not even during his arranged mating, not even from his own sons.

"Stop the bleeding first," she instructed, her tactical training overriding her pain. "Silver poisoning won't kill me immediately, but blood loss will."

Alaric worked with methodical precision despite the chaos in his mind, applying pressure and binding the wound with strips of cloth. Each drop of blood that soaked through the fabric felt like a personal failure, a reminder that he hadn't been fast enough, strong enough, or protective enough.

What kind of mate am I if I can't even keep her safe?

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of approaching footsteps through the snow announced the arrival of their backup team. Logan emerged first, his auburn hair disheveled and his tactical gear splattered with evidence of the firefight they'd left behind.

"Status report," Alaric commanded without looking up from Vivian's bandaged wound.