Page 24 of Fat Betrayed Mate
"I'm fine. Thank you for today."
The formal words rebuild walls that nearly crumbled at the creek. Thomas's jaw tightens, but he says nothing, just appraises me with his narrow, knowing eyes. I feel undone by that gaze. I always have.
His hand twitches at his side, but I'm already walking away, mind spinning with implications.
The League for Humanity.
Here. Now.
I fight back tears until I’m beyond the crowds, beyond these people who don’t know the danger that might be coming, don’t know what I’ve faced and feared and run from all these years. No matter what I do, it seems I’ll never escape the two men I ran from all those years ago, not really: the wolf who broke my heart, and the human father who couldn’t accept me, just like he couldn’t accept my mother.
Chapter 6 - Thomas
The pack headquarters buzzes with tension when I arrive for the first of what I imagine will be multiple emergency meetings over the coming weeks. Wolves cluster in small groups, voices low and urgent, their unease palpable in the confined space—elders and council members, younger trainees, those who work under James and I to maintain security. Nic stands at the head of the conference table, his expression grim as he spreads maps and reports across the polished surface.
"Thank you all for coming on short notice," he begins as the last council members file in. "We've received disturbing intelligence from our allied packs about escalating anti-shifter activity in the region."
I take my usual seat at his right hand, trying to focus on the documents he's distributing. Border patrol reports, intelligence summaries, photographs of damaged property and threatening graffiti, as well as the trail cameras found near our territory. The evidence paints a picture of organized hatred that makes my wolf pace restlessly beneath my skin.
"The group calls itself the League for Humanity," Nic continues, pointing to a photograph of protesters outside a community center. "They've been active in at least six towns within a hundred-mile radius of our territory."
James leans forward, studying the images. "How organized are we talking? Professional funding or just angry locals with too much time?"
"Both, apparently. They're decentralized—no single headquarters can be identified—but their messaging is consistent. Coordinated. So they have some kind of leader." Nic's jaw tightens. "And they're getting bolder. Property damage,harassment campaigns, some members openly carrying weapons at demonstrations."
Victoria peers over her reading glasses at one of the reports. "Any indication they know about our specific territory?"
"That's what concerns me most," Nic admits. "Three of the targeted communities border our lands. It's possible they're probing, testing responses before making a move."
My mouth goes dry as he continues briefing the council. The tactics described—patient surveillance, strategic pressure, the gradual escalation of threats—sound disturbingly familiar. Like someone with experience in psychological warfare is orchestrating the campaign.
"Do we have any intelligence on leadership?" Elder Marcus asks. "Someone must be coordinating this."
Nic nods grimly. "Our contacts in law enforcement have identified several key figures. The most prominent appears to be—” He fishes around for a photo among our intelligence, then presents it—an image at a distance of a tall, human man with dark hair, too blurry to make out many details. “This man. He's been the public face at several demonstrations, and his rhetoric is particularly..." he pauses, searching for the right word, "incendiary."
The world tilts beneath me.
Because the others at this meeting might not remember him, given how many years have passed since he last set foot in our territory, but my memories of Edward Wright are far fresher and more visceral.
Here. Active. Leading the very kind of campaign I've dreaded for six years.
Near Fiona.
The timing can’t be a coincidence.
My hands clench into fists under the table, and I force them to relax before anyone can notice. Around me, the council continues discussing security measures and response protocols, but their voices sound distant and hollow. All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears and the phantom echo of Edward's voice:End this relationship immediately, or I will ensure she meets the same fate as her mother.
"Thomas?" Nic's voice cuts through the fog. "Your thoughts on increasing border patrols?"
I blink, realizing the entire council is looking at me expectantly. "Yes. Good idea. Whatever you think is best."
James shoots me a concerned look, but I avoid his gaze. I can't afford to fall apart here, I can't let anyone see how this news has shattered my carefully maintained composure.
I can’t afford for them to know what this means for her, what I’ve been hiding for years. Surely, that would only put her in greater danger.
"We'll implement a rotating schedule," Nic decides. "Teams of four, twelve-hour shifts. James, can you coordinate with the patrol leaders?"
"Of course." James is still watching me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. "Thomas, you want to take point on the northern routes? You know that terrain better than anyone."
