Page 9 of Rebel for Claws
Lena released her hands, stepping back with something approaching reverence. "When the catalyst awakens to her true path, the barriers between worlds shall crumble, and the beings of both realms shall remember what they were meant to be together."
The silence that followed felt charged with possibility and danger in equal measure. Vivian could feel the weight of three pairs of eyes on her, waiting for her response. For her acceptance or denial of what she represented.
Thirty-five years of hiding. Thirty-five years of feeling like something vital was missing from the world around me. Thirty-five years of searching for my true purpose.
"I accept it." The words came out with quiet conviction, carrying the weight of a lifetime of preparation. "I am Vivian Cole, last descendant of the original ancient shapeshifter bloodline, and I accept my role as the fourth part of the Lunar Prophecy."
The moment she spoke the words aloud, something shifted in the air around them. Vivian felt power unfurl within her like wings spreading wide after being folded too long. Her violet eyes blazed with golden light as ancient magic responded to her acceptance, and she could have sworn she felt the echo of other magical presences—Maya, Zoe, and Elena—as if their destinies had just aligned.
Zoe's intake of breath was audible. "My God, you're glowing."
"Not glowing." Lena's voice held professional fascination. "Radiating magical energy that's been suppressed for decades. Vivian, your abilities are extraordinary—far beyond what any of us expected."
Logan's chair scraped against the floor as he stood abruptly, his former enforcer instincts clearly screaming warnings. "Which makes her the biggest threat the High Council has ever encountered. They've spent three centuries trying to eliminate powerful bloodlines like hers."
"Exactly." Vivian's newfound sense of purpose blazed through her voice. "Which is why we need to act quickly. The ancient texts I retrieved from Moon Hollow will prove their corruption, and with all four prophecy hybrids identified, we can finally restore?—"
"No." Logan's voice cut through her words with the authority of someone accustomed to life-or-death decisions. "Your only priority is staying alive and staying hidden. The Council will mobilize every resource they have to eliminate you the moment they confirm your location."
There it is again. The assumption that I need protection instead of partnership.
Vivian's eyes flashed with golden fire, her magical heritage responding to the surge of frustrated anger. "I didn't survive twenty-five years of hiding in the mountains and ten more yearsof fighting in the rebellion to just sit in some cabin and do nothing while others fight for my cause."
"It's not just your cause anymore," Zoe interjected, though her tone remained gentle. "It's bigger than any of us individually. Lena and I can continue analyzing the ancient texts while Logan coordinates with Damon, Elena, Kieran, and Maya on strategy. Your job is to just stay safe."
"My job," Vivian's voice dropped to the dangerous quiet her grandfather had taught her to use before striking, "is to use the abilities I've spent my entire life developing to help restore harmony between our worlds. Not to hide like a frightened child while others make decisions about my destiny."
Lena stepped forward, her healer's instincts clearly recognizing the brewing conflict. "The prophecy suggests that when all four hybrids work together, their combined power could reshape our entire society. But if even one is eliminated?—"
"Then we lose everything." Logan's green eyes held grim certainty. "Which is why Vivian stays hidden until we have a concrete plan that doesn't end with her dead and the prophecy unfulfilled."
The rational part of Vivian's mind acknowledged the tactical sense in Logan's position. But the part of her that had watched her family die, that had spent decades training for this exact moment, and that carried the magical legacy of Queen Isadora herself—that part demanded action.
They don't understand. I'm not just another hybrid to protect. I'm the catalyst. The one who's supposed to awaken our true potential. How can I do that from inside a reinforced cabin?
"I understand your concerns," Vivian said finally, though her violet eyes continued blazing with barely contained magical energy. "But I won't be sidelined while others fight for the future I'm supposedly meant to help create."
She didn't voice the vow forming in her mind—that she would find a way to make them understand she needed to be part of the solution, not just the problem they needed to solve. One way or another, she would prove that the fourth part of the Lunar Prophecy couldn't fulfill her destiny from the shadows anymore.
FOUR
ALARIC
The December morning light filtered through the tall windows of Alaric's private chambers, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors he'd walked for thirty years as Alpha. His reflection in the antique mirror showed a man transformed—no longer the gaunt, hollow-eyed prisoner who'd escaped that medical facility three nights ago, but something approaching the commanding presence his pack remembered.
Three days of proper nutrition and supernatural healing have worked miracles, but the real transformation runs deeper.
His hands moved with practiced efficiency as he adjusted the charcoal suit jacket, the formal attire required for today's reinstatement ceremony. The scar on his jaw—a permanent reminder of his captivity—caught the light as he turned his head. Thorne's scientists had left their mark, but they'd failed to break what truly mattered.
Thirty years of living a lie ends today. No more dual identities. No more pretending to be the rigid traditionalist Thorne wanted me to be.
The weight of the ceremonial Alpha pendant settled against his chest as he fastened it around his neck, the ancient silver warming under his touch. This wasn't just about reclaiming his position—it was about finally becoming the leader his sons deserved, the Alpha his pack needed, and the man he'd buried beneath decades of necessary deception.
A soft knock interrupted his preparations. "Father?" Kieran's voice carried through the heavy oak door, respectful but tentative in a way that spoke to the fragile rebuilding happening between them.
"Come in." Alaric turned from the mirror, studying his eldest son as Kieran entered the bedroom.
The past three days had been a careful dance of conversations and revelations, each interaction peeling back another layer of the walls Alaric had built around himself. Kieran remained guarded—understandably so—but the raw hatred that had burned in his silver-blue eyes at Cade's cabin had softened into something more complex.
