Page 45 of Rebel for Claws
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 butfunctional—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."
