Page 30 of Rebel for Claws (Rebellious Mates #4)
TWENTY-THREE
VIVIAN
T he bitter herbal antidote still coated Vivian's throat as she struggled to sit up in Alaric's bed, her violet eyes cutting through the tension that had descended upon his private chambers like a blade through silk.
The silver wound in her side throbbed with each heartbeat, but the physical pain paled in comparison to the cold dread settling in her chest.
"How many of my people?" she repeated, her voice carrying a deadly edge that made even Kieran's commanding presence seem diminished.
Malcolm ran his hand through his dark hair, his diplomatic composure finally cracking under the weight of the devastating news.
"We don't have specifics yet. Lena is still gathering intelligence, but the strikes were coordinated across all four territories.
Rebel safehouses, pack leadership homes, anyone who's ever stood against Thorne. .."
A full-scale purge. The realization hit Vivian so hard that it stole her breath and made her enhanced senses spike with predatory alertness.
While we were playing hunter and prey with Thorne at his outpost, he was eliminating his opposition back here in the Pacific Northwest Cascade territory. The bastard orchestrated this perfectly, and we fell for it.
From her position against the silk pillows, she watched Alaric's hands clench tight. "Kieran," she said, her tactical mind cutting through the emotional chaos, "these coordinated strikes—they required insider intelligence. Real-time intelligence."
The eldest Silvercrest son nodded grimly. "That's what we're afraid of."
Vivian's blood ran ice cold as the full scope of their situation crystallized with terrifying clarity.
"It's not just Thorne acting alone. The High Council has allies embedded throughout the rebellion.
Pack leadership too." Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
"We've been fighting Thorne and his shadows while the real enemy has been walking among us the entire time. "
How many rebels trusted the wrong person? How many pack leaders thought they were safe in their own homes?
Their mate bond pulsed as Alaric's rage fed into her own, creating a feedback loop of fury that made her teeth lengthen involuntarily. Through their connection, she could feel his wolf demanding blood, demanding vengeance, demanding the right to protect what was his.
"My rebel group is still out there. They're sitting ducks," she breathed, remembering her conversation with her magical healer a few days ago.
Malcolm stepped closer to the bed, his blue eyes dark with concern. "We don't know which locations were hit. There's still hope?—"
"Hope?" Vivian's laugh held no humor and was sharp enough to cut glass. "Thorne's infiltration runs deeper than any of us imagined. He's had decades to place his pieces, to identify every threat, every reformer, every person brave enough to stand against him."
And we handed him the perfect distraction by chasing after that evidence bag.
Alaric's voice rumbled through the chamber like distant thunder, his Alpha authority unmistakable despite the raw emotion bleeding through their bond. "He's not being secretive about his intentions anymore. No more shadows, no more manipulation. This is open warfare."
"Which means," Vivian said, pushing herself fully upright despite the protest from her healing wound, "extinction of our kind isn't a distant threat anymore. It's happening right now, today, while we sit here talking about it."
The silence that followed her words carried the weight of absolute truth. Outside the windows, the winter wind howled through the evergreens surrounding the estate, but inside the chamber, the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Thorne is willing to burn our entire shifter world to the ground to keep his power.
Kieran broke the tension first, his strategic mind already shifting into crisis management mode. "We need to get both the pack leaders and rebellion leaders together. United front, shared intelligence, and coordinated defense."
"An emergency war council," Alaric agreed, his enhanced senses already cataloging threats and allies with supernatural precision. "All pack leaders, all rebellion leaders. The neutral grand hall near Moon Hollow. This afternoon."
Vivian watched her mate transform before her eyes, the man she'd made love with last night being replaced by the legendary Alpha who'd commanded the most powerful pack in the territory for thirty years.
His phone was already in his hand, speed-dialing numbers with the efficiency of someone accustomed to crisis leadership.
"Alpha Gage? Alaric Silvercrest. We need an emergency war council—today, this afternoon." His voice held the powerful authority of an Alpha issuing non-negotiable orders. "The grand hall near Moon Hollow. Bring everyone who's still breathing and willing to fight."
Through the phone's speaker, Vivian could hear the Tidewater Alpha's grim confirmation. "How bad is it, Alaric?"
"Bad enough that even the most resistant pack leaders will have no choice but to stand together now." Alaric's eyes met Vivian's, and she saw her own determination reflected in those storm-grey depths. "This isn't about politics anymore. It's about survival."
One by one, Alaric made the calls. Pack leaders who'd spent decades feuding with each other agreed to alliance without hesitation.
Rebellion leaders who'd operated in shadows for years committed to open cooperation.
Even the most traditional Alphas recognized that Thorne's systematic purge had crossed every line that existed in their shifter world.
Amazing what the threat of extinction can accomplish in terms of unity.
When the final call ended, Alaric set his phone aside and moved to the edge of the bed, his enhanced presence making the very air around them hum with supernatural energy. "The council meets in two hours. Every major leader who's still alive will be there."
"And then?" Vivian asked, though she already knew the answer.
His hands cupped her face with devastating gentleness, the contrast between his lethal power and tender touch making her breath catch. "Then we stop playing defense and start playing offense. No more chasing evidence, no more hoping to expose corruption through proper channels."
Because there are no proper channels left.
"Our vision for unity," Alaric continued, his voice dropping to an intimate rumble that sent heat spiraling through their mate bond, "it's no longer theoretical. It's happening now, today, because we're fighting for our future to be together. To exist."
Vivian's heart slammed against her ribs as the full implications of his words hit her. "You're talking about completing our mate bond. Unleashing whatever power the prophecy promised."
"I'm talking about the fact that we have no other choice." His thumb traced her cheekbone with reverent precision. "Thorne has forced our hand. The secondary prophecy isn't some distant possibility anymore—it's our only weapon capable of ending this war."
The mating of a Silvercrest Alpha with the human magical lineage will create an Alpha of unprecedented power.
The partial mark on her neck throbbed in response to her racing pulse, reminding her of the feel of his teeth, the primal claiming that had awakened something fundamental in both of them. Even that incomplete bond had enhanced his abilities beyond anything she'd imagined possible.
"What if the hidden clause is right?" she whispered. "What if completing the bond destroys everything instead of saving it?"
Alaric's smile held the dangerous edge of a predator who'd finally decided to stop running from the hunt. "Then we'll rebuild from the ashes. Together."
Together. The word echoed through their bond like a promise, like a prayer, like the most beautiful threat she'd ever heard.
Two hours later, the grand hall near Moon Hollow was alive with a tension so thick it could have been sliced with a blade.
Vivian stood at the center of it all, her violet eyes scanning the room as the chaos of the past days—her wound, Thorne's public betrayal, the looming war—pressed against her like a storm cloud.
The scent of old wood and pine mingled with the faint metallic tang of anxiety, and the low hum of voices filled the air like a swarm of restless bees.
She could feel the weight of every gaze on her, the curiosity, the suspicion, and the awe.
The four fated mate pairs were gathered near the front of the grand hall: Kieran and Maya, their diplomatic unity a beacon of calm amidst the storm; Logan and Zoe, their tactical precision sharp enough to cut through any defense; Damon and Elena, their ideological balance a reminder of the rebellion's roots; and then there was Alaric—her Alpha, her mate—his presence a force of nature that demanded attention even in this room full of leaders.
Vivian's side still ached where the silver-tipped blade had sliced into her, but she stood tall, refusing to let the pain show.
She had been through worse. She was worse, to some in this room—a hybrid, a rebel, a magical wildcard.
But she was also the last descendant of the original shapeshifter bloodline, and that, she could see, was both her greatest weapon and her heaviest burden.
Alaric stepped forward, his boots clicking against the stone floor, and the room fell silent.
His grey eyes burned with a quiet intensity, and when he spoke, his voice carried the heavy weight of an Alpha who had seen too much and endured even more.
"We're here because our world is crumbling.
Thorne has turned against us, and he's not alone.
This war isn't just about him—it's about everything we've built and everything we've fought for.
And, most importantly, it's about survival. "
His gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on the pack leaders who had only days ago been his peers, his rivals, even his enemies. "We're not here to divide any longer. We're here to unite. And to do that, we need to be honest about who we are and what we're fighting for."
He paused, and Vivian felt the tension in the room shift, like a predator holding its breath before the strike.
"Vivian Cole," he said, his voice softer now but no less commanding, "is my fated mate.
She's the last descendant of the original shapeshifter bloodline, and she's the key to not just winning this war but ensuring our future. "
The silence that followed was deafening.
Vivian could feel the weight of their stares—the shock, the disbelief, and the quiet murmurs of I told you so and I knew it.
She lifted her chin, meeting their eyes one by one, refusing to shrink under their scrutiny.
Let them judge her. Let them doubt her. She had faced worse.
"Her ambush at Moon Hollow wasn't just an act of defiance," Alaric continued, his voice cutting through the whispers. "It was a declaration. Thorne's corruption runs deeper than any of us realized, and it's time we faced it head-on. Together."
The room erupted into chaos. Pack leaders and rebellion leaders alike began shouting, their voices overlapping like a cacophony of wolves howling in the night.
Vivian's eyes darted to Kieran and Maya, who were already stepping forward, their calm presence a stark contrast to the chaos.
Logan and Zoe were huddled together, their heads bent in quiet conversation, while Damon and Elena stood at the edge of the room, their expressions unreadable.
"You can't expect us to just accept this!
" A voice rang out, sharp and cutting. It was Beta Kane from the Granite Ridge pack, his black hair gleaming in the dim light, his face a mask of disapproval.
"She's a hybrid, Alaric. A rebel and a magical threat.
And now you're saying she's your mate? This undermines everything we've fought for. "
Alaric's jaw tightened, and Vivian could feel the anger simmering beneath his skin, but his voice remained steady. "This isn't about undermining. It's about evolving. Our world is changing, whether we like it or not. And if we don’t change with it, we'll be left behind—or worse, destroyed."
Vivian stepped forward, her voice cutting through the noise.
"I'm not here to take anything from you," she said, her tone calm but firm.
"I'm here to give us a future. A future where we're not divided by bloodlines or politics, but united by a shared goal of peace and survival.
Thorne doesn't just want power—he wants to erase us all. And if we don't stop him, he will."
The room fell silent again, the weight of her words settling over them. She could see the doubt in their eyes, the fear, but also the flicker of hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, she was right.
Alaric's hand brushed against hers, a silent show of support that sent a shiver down her spine.
"We've come up with a plan," he said firmly.
"Each of the four pack territories will be defended by one of the fated mate pairs, working with the local pack leaders and rebels.
We'll blend traditional tactics with new strategies, combining our strengths to take down Thorne and his allies once and for all. "
The room erupted into discussion again, but this time, it was focused and purposeful.
Pack leaders huddled with rebellion leaders, strategies were debated, and plans began to take shape.
Vivian watched it all with a mix of pride and apprehension.
This was it—the moment they'd been fighting for.
But it was also the moment when everything could fall apart.
As the groups began to break off into smaller strategy sessions, Alaric leaned in close to Vivian. "You were incredible," he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "They're listening to you. To us . "
Vivian turned to face him, her eyes locking with his. "We're not done yet," she said, her voice a whisper. "This is just the beginning."
He nodded, his hand brushing against hers again, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. "Together," he said, his voice a promise. "From now on, it's always us together."
She felt a surge of warmth in her chest, a mix of admiration and something deeper.
But as she looked around the room, at the leaders who had once been her enemies and were now her allies, she knew one thing for certain.
This was where she belonged, by Alaric's side, and she was ready to fight for it with everything she had.