Page 2 of Rebel for Claws
"Four centuries' worth." Vivian approached the nearest alcove, her heart racing as she recognized the script on the scroll bindings. "The complete record of what the High Council systematically destroyed."
Kelly entered behind her, immediately moving to examine a collection of texts near the far wall. "These aren't just historical records. They're genealogies. Bloodline charts going back to the first matings."
The first mating of the Pacific Northwest Cascade territory. My great-great-great-great human grandmother and the Shadow pack wolf shifter who started it all.
Vivian pulled a scroll from its resting place, unrolling it carefully. The parchment revealed detailed accounts of the Severance—but not the sanitized version the High Council taught. This told of deliberate bloodline manipulation, of magical abilities systematically suppressed, and of hybrid children murdered to preserve their wolf shifter purity.
"We need to document everything." Vivian's voice carried steel beneath the whisper. "Every name, every date, and every crime they covered up."
"Look at this." Kelly held up a journal bound in midnight-blue leather. "Personal accounts from the first generation of magical hybrid shifters. They describe magical abilities that most of us have only dreamed of—full multi-animal transformations, elemental manipulation, and healing that could bring back the recently dead."
Magical abilities that flowed through my veins right now.
"How long do we have?" Vivian asked Devon.
"Another hour before the patrol shift change. After that, our window closes."
"Then we work fast." Vivian began gathering the most crucial documents, her movements fluid and efficient. "Priority goes to anything documenting the elder who orchestrated the Severance. That's our smoking gun."
As her rebel fighters worked with practiced precision, Vivian found herself drawn to a particular alcove. Something called to her ancient blood, pulling her toward a collection of scrolls wrapped in silver cord. She reached for them, her fingers tingling with recognition.
These weren't just records. They were a legacy—her legacy—waiting three centuries for the right descendant to reclaim them.
Tonight, the truth begins to see daylight again.
Thirty minutes later,Vivian signaled to her rebel group that it was time to move out of the secret ancient archives before the Council guards detected them during the patrol change. Their escape from Moon Hollow was a blur of adrenaline and stealth through the snowy forest. Vivian and her team moved like ghosts between the trees, their enhanced senses alert for any signs of pursuit. The weight of the ancient scrolls and journals in her satchel felt heavier than gold—these documents could reshape everything their shifter world believed about their history.
"Movement, southwest ridge," Sage whispered as they cleared Moon Hollow's perimeter.
Kelly's magic soon masked their scent, but Vivian's owl-enhanced vision had caught the glint of weapons in the moonlight. Three figures in tactical gear, closing fast on their position.
"Scatter protocol," Vivian ordered, her voice barely audible. "Rendezvous at base in thirty."
They'd made it back to their rebel stronghold just after midnight. The ten-mile journey through treacherous mountain terrain in December's bitter cold had tested even their enhanced endurance, but the prize they'd secured had made it all worthwhile.
Now, an hour later, in the sanctuary of her corner office within the reinforced cabin that served as their base, Vivian finally allowed herself to breathe. The ancient scrolls lay spread across her oak desk, their silver cord bindings reflecting the warm glow of her reading lamp. Her violet eyes traced the extinct shapeshifter script, her grandfather's teachings unlocking secrets that had been buried for centuries.
The High Council didn't just create the Severance laws. They planned them decades in advance.
The leather-bound journal before her contained detailed correspondence between the Council elders, dated forty years before the official Severance decree. Their intent was crystal clear—systematic elimination of magical hybrid bloodlines through legal restriction, social isolation, and when necessary, targeted assassination.
"Grandfather, you were right to hide us," she whispered to the empty room, her fingers tracing a passage that described the "final solution" for the "magical contamination" of pure wolf bloodlines.
The documents revealed the true scope of the Council's deception. They hadn't acted out of tradition or fear of human discovery. They'd orchestrated the Severance to consolidate power, eliminating magical hybrid families who posed a threat to their control and rule. Every arranged mating, every territorial restriction, and every "accident" that claimed hybrid lives—all part of a centuries-long campaign of genocide.
My family wasn't the exception. We were the enemy.
Vivian's ancient magic responded to the emotional weight of her discovery, her eyes beginning to glow with that telltale golden light. The truth burned in her chest like molten metal. How many hybrid children had been murdered? How many magical bloodlines had been severed forever?
The cabin's security systems should have alerted her to any approach. Her enhanced senses, sharpened by a lifetime of hiding and survival, should have detected the slightest intrusion. But she'd become so absorbed in decoding the ancient texts, so lost in the magnitude of what she'd uncovered, that her usual vigilance had faltered.
The first indication of danger came not from her senses, but from the subtle shift in air pressure as her office window opened with practiced silence.
Before she could react, before she could even turn from her desk, powerful arms encircled her from behind. A large hand clamped over her mouth, muffling any cry for help before it could form. The man's hold was professional and controlled—designed to subdue without causing injury.
How did they get past my defenses?
Vivian's body tensed, every instinct screaming to fight, but her attacker's positioning was flawless. He'd neutralized her leverage points with tactical precision that spoke of extensive combat training.
