Page 16 of Fat Betrayed Mate
"The trials are one thing. Invalidating a drawing is another entirely." He leans forward, voice dropping. "I tried. I did. You remember how it was when they drew Lu for me, Thomas. I fought so hard—there’s no way out of it.”
I rake a hand through my hair, desperation clawing at my chest. "You don't understand what's at stake."
"Then help me understand," Nic says quietly. "You've never told me what really happened between you and Fiona. All these years, I've respected your privacy, but Thomas—" He gestures to my agitated state. "This goes beyond a bad breakup."
The truth burns in my throat, desperate for release after six years of silence. But the fear—the bone-deep terror of Edward Wright's threats—keeps the words locked away. I've never told anyone the real reason I ended things with Fiona. Not Nic, not James, not a soul.
"It's complicated," I say finally, the understatement of the century. "We have... history."
"History that has you looking like you'd rather face a rabid bear than go through with these trials." Nic's gaze is too perceptive, too knowing. "Is there something I should be concerned about? Something that affects pack security?"
"No," I lie, avoiding his eyes. "Just personal baggage."
Nic studies me for a long moment. "You know I can't invalidate the drawing without cause, Thomas. Not without creating a dangerous precedent."
"I know," I admit, defeat settling heavy on my shoulders. "Just... tell me you're watching the borders. The security protocols—"
"Are the tightest they've been in decades," Nic assures me. "After the Cheslem pack's attacks, we're taking no chances. No one gets in or out of Silvercreek territory without us knowing."
The words should comfort me, but they don't. Edward Wright might be human, but he's proven more dangerous than any rival wolf. There are already signs that dangerous humans are gathering near our territory, the types of humans with the same twisted beliefs as him. And if he discovers Fiona has returned to Silvercreek, if he learns the lottery has drawn us together again...
"I'll keep her safe," I promise, more to myself than to Nic. "Whatever it takes."
Nic's hand lands on my shoulder, a rare gesture of physical comfort from our normally reserved Alpha. "I know you will.”
I leave his office with leaden feet, the memory of Edward Wright's cold smile following me like a shadow. Six years, I've carried this secret, this choice that broke both our hearts. And now fate—or the cruel joke of the lottery—has brought us back together.
The irony would be laughable if it didn't terrify me.
***
I've been in the small conference room in the Pack Building for nearly an hour, arranging and rearranging the folders on the table, waiting for Fiona to arrive for our meeting, when I hear them approaching. Fiona's voice first—low, soothing—followed by a higher, brighter one that must belong to her daughter. My heart rate kicks up, my palms suddenly damp.
The door opens, and there she is. Fiona wears simple jeans and a green sweater that brings out her eyes, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, loose black pants accentuating her curves. Even dressed down, she's painfully beautiful.
And visibly frazzled.
"I'm sorry," she says immediately, not quite meeting my eyes. "My babysitter canceled at the last minute. I had to bring Maisie."
The child, half-hiding behind her legs peeks up at me with curious eyes. She's small—four years old, according to what I’ve heard—with dark curls and a determined little chin.
"It's fine," I say, my voice rougher than I intend. I clear my throat. "Not a problem."
"Let's just get this over with," Fiona says, her tone clipped as she ushers Maisie to a chair at the far end of the table, as far from me as the small room allows. The child climbs up, swinging her legs that don't quite reach the floor.
"I brought some toys to keep her occupied," Fiona explains, pulling a small notebook and colored pencils from her bag. "She'll be quiet."
"Really, it's okay." I attempt a smile that feels foreign on my face. "Hi, Maisie."
The little girl studies me with solemn eyes. "Hi," she says finally. "You're really tall."
A surprised laugh escapes me. "I guess I am."
"Mama says you're the Alpha's friend. That's why we have to be nice to you even though we don't want to."
"Maisie," Fiona hisses, color flooding her cheeks. "That's not—I didn't—"
"It's fine," I say again, though the words sting more than they should. Is that how she sees me? A pack obligation to be tolerated?
