Page 5 of Rebel for Claws (Rebellious Mates #4)
THREE
VIVIAN
V ivian woke to the scent of coffee and bacon drifting through Logan's reinforced cabin, the familiar aromas doing nothing to ease the restless energy coiled beneath her skin.
Three days. Three days of being trapped in this luxurious prison while her spiritual rebel group remained vulnerable in Shadow pack territory, probably wondering if their leader had abandoned them or been killed.
The most valuable hybrid in the Pacific Northwest Cascade territory. The words echoed in her mind with bitter irony as she rolled out of the king-sized bed, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. Valuable enough to kidnap, apparently, but not valuable enough to trust with her own safety.
The borrowed clothes from Zoe—dark jeans that hugged her curves too tightly and a fitted green sweater that strained across her breasts—served as another reminder of how completely her life had been upended that snowy December night.
When Damon Gray and Elena Walsh had breached her office like tactical ghosts while she'd been too absorbed in decoding the ancient texts that her enhanced senses had failed her entirely. The memory still stung her pride.
The last descendant of the original ancient shapeshifter bloodline, Elena had said that night when they'd arrived here at Logan's old cabin when she had finally explained the desperate urgency to extract Vivian from her rebel base.
Vivian had secretly hoped all these years that more of her ancient bloodline still remained somewhere in the Pacific Northwest Cascade territory.
The shocking revelation that she was truly the last one left of her kind had sent her reeling for the past three days.
As Vivian brushed her long, pale blonde hair with its unique silver undertones in front of the full-length mirror, she thought about her great-great-great-great grandmother, the first human magical queen to mate with a wolf shifter in this territory 350 years ago.
The woman who started the bloodline the High Council had spent centuries trying to erase through the Severance laws.
Vivian wondered what her great-great-great-great grandmother had thought when she settled in this territory three and a half centuries ago and fell in love with a wolf shifter.
Did she ever think she would be the sole reason for such social upheaval in this territory three and a half centuries later?
Probably not. She probably was just trying to live a happy and peaceful life with her mate.
But sadly, the High Council was threatened for some reason by their beautiful union.
Vivian padded barefoot toward the kitchen, her violet eyes scanning the open living area with practiced efficiency.
Logan's cabin bore all the hallmarks of a former enforcer's paranoia—reinforced walls, multiple escape routes, and sight lines that covered every approach.
The irony wasn't lost on her that she felt safer here than she had in years, even as a current prisoner.
"Morning." Zoe's voice carried warmth despite the early hour, her curly hair catching the morning light streaming through the kitchen windows. She stood at the stove, her movements graceful and efficient as she flipped bacon with one hand while scrambling eggs with the other.
Logan occupied the dining table, his imposing frame hunched over what appeared to be tactical maps spread across the wooden surface. His dark auburn hair was already styled for the day, and the multiple scars visible on his forearms spoke of a violent past she was only beginning to understand.
"Sleep well?" His deep green eyes assessed her with clinical precision, the same way he'd evaluated everything since becoming her unwilling guardian.
"Like a baby." The lie rolled off her tongue with practiced ease. "If babies spend the night planning seven different escape routes and cataloging every weapon in their immediate vicinity."
Zoe laughed, sliding a plate of perfectly prepared breakfast across the kitchen counter. "Only seven? You're slipping these past few days."
"The reinforced windows limited my options." Vivian accepted the food gratefully, her stomach growling despite her mounting frustration. Being kidnapped apparently didn't diminish her appetite at all.
Logan's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. "I designed those security features specifically to contain shifters with enhanced magical abilities."
"Speaking of which," Zoe settled onto the stool beside her, her hazel eyes gleaming with anticipation, "Lena should be arriving shortly. She's eager to meet you."
"The Silvercrest healer who's been analyzing my stolen ancient texts.
" Vivian's tone carried an edge of possessiveness that surprised even her.
Those scrolls and journals represented more than historical documents—they were the key to understanding her heritage, her purpose, and possibly the future of their entire shifter world.
"Our stolen ancient texts," Logan corrected, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "The moment you infiltrated Moon Hollow's archives, you became part of something much larger than your spiritual rebel group."
The casual dismissal of her life's work ignited the volatile temper she'd inherited along with her magical bloodline.
"My spiritual rebel group consists of five hybrid fighters who've spent months learning to harness magical abilities your modern shifters have forgotten even exist. They're not some amateur collection of shifter fighters. "
"No," Zoe agreed, her tone diplomatic but firm, "but they're also not equipped to handle human Council operatives armed with weapons designed specifically to kill hybrids as powerful as yourself."
There it is again. The assumption that I need protection instead of partnership.
Vivian's violet eyes flashed with gold as her emotions spiked, the ancient magic responding to her growing frustration. "I've survived thirty-five years without anyone's protection. My grandfather trained me to be a weapon precisely because he knew this day would eventually come."
"And now that day is here." Logan's green eyes held no sympathy, only tactical assessment.
"The High Council knows you exist now. They've mobilized human operatives to eliminate you.
Your choice is simple—accept our protection while we coordinate a response, or watch your spiritual rebel group get slaughtered trying to defend someone they can't possibly protect. "
The brutal honesty hit harder than any physical blow. Her rebel fighters were skilled, dedicated, and brave—but they weren't prepared for the kind of systematic elimination the High Council employed against threats to their power structure.
"Besides," Zoe added with a gentleness that somehow made the reality more bearable, "Lena's analysis of those ancient texts might reveal information that changes everything. Plus, the treaty between the rebellion and moderate pack leaders has created an opportunity we've never had before."
"What kind of opportunity?" Despite Vivian's resentment at being sidelined, her curiosity won out over her pride.
Logan folded the tactical maps with military precision, his movements economical and purposeful. "The kind where exposing the Council's corruption might actually succeed instead of just getting more people killed."
The weight of that possibility settled over her like a physical force.
For ten years, she'd moved between rebel groups, learning their methods and motivations while searching for something that felt like genuine purpose.
The spiritual rebel group she'd founded six months ago had been her attempt to bridge the gap between ancient magic and modern rebellion—but what if it could be part of something even larger?
What if everything I've worked for could actually matter?
"Lena specializes in ancient shifter genetics and has extensive knowledge of the Lunar Prophecy," Zoe continued, her enthusiasm infectious despite Vivian's guarded mood. "If anyone can help us understand the full implications of your ancient bloodline, it's her."
"The Lunar Prophecy." Vivian had heard whispers of it throughout her years in various rebel groups, but the details remained frustratingly vague. "What exactly does that entail?"
"Something about chosen hybrids restoring harmony between humans and shifters after three centuries of separation in our territory." Logan's tone suggested he found prophecies less compelling than tactical planning. "Lena can explain the specifics."
A sharp knock echoed through the cabin, precise and professional. Logan's entire demeanor shifted, his hand moving instinctively toward the concealed weapon at his hip before he processed the familiar pattern.
"That would be Lena." Zoe moved toward the front door with fluid grace, her movements betraying the combat training that lurked beneath her friendly exterior.
Vivian felt her pulse quicken despite her efforts to remain composed.
Whatever information this healer brought might finally provide answers to questions that had haunted her since childhood—or it might confirm her worst fears about being fundamentally alone in a world that didn't understand what she represented.
Time to learn if being the last of the original ancient shapeshifter bloodline makes me a weapon, a savior, or simply a target the Council will never stop hunting until I'm dead.
The woman who entered the cabin moved with the quiet confidence of someone who understood dangerous secrets.
Lena Nightshade was petite, her violet eyes holding depths that seemed to see far more than they revealed, and her dark brown hair was pulled back in a practical bun that suggested she'd come here for serious business rather than social calls.
"Hey, Lena." Zoe's greeting carried genuine warmth mixed with anticipation. "Thank you for coming so quickly today."