Page 65 of Fat Betrayed Mate
It’s so early. She’s so young. But the stress, and the circumstances…
The thought is interrupted by Fiona's whine beside me, a sound of pure anguish as she sees her daughter caged like an animal. I drop back to all fours, nudging her away from the door. We need a plan, not blind rage.
A faint metallic sound from behind is my only warning. I whirl, teeth bared, as the hallway suddenly floods with armed men. They must have been waiting, must have known we'd come for her.
"Now!" someone shouts, and the world explodes into chaos.
I lunge at the nearest hunter, teeth finding flesh as we crash to the floor. A rifle butt slams into my side, but my momentum carries us into another attacker. Beside me, Fiona is a silver blur, dodging and snapping.
Something cold sprays across my face—an aerosol with the unmistakable burn of wolfsbane. Not enough to kill, but enough to disorient. My movements become sluggish, the world tilting strangely as I fight to maintain consciousness.
Fiona yelps in pain. I turn toward the sound in time to see her crumple, a tranquilizer dart protruding from her shoulder. Rage gives me a final surge of strength as I throw myself at her attacker.
The last thing I register is Maisie's face pressed against the bars of her cage, her eyes wide and glowing amber—my eyes—as she screams for her mother.
Then darkness.
***
I wake to fire circling my wrists and ankles.
Silver. The unmistakable burn of silver against shifter skin.
The world comes into focus slowly—a dim cellar, concrete walls, the smell of mildew and blood. I'm sitting against a support beam, hands and feet bound with silver-lined restraints that bite into my flesh. My head throbs with the aftereffects of wolfsbane, my mouth dry as dust.
"Thomas?" Fiona's voice comes from beside me, rough with pain.
I turn to find her bound to an adjacent post, her face pale but alert. Relief floods through me at the sight of her alive, quickly replaced by the crushing reality of our situation.
"Maisie?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"Still upstairs." Her voice cracks on the words. "I heard them talking while you were unconscious. They're planning some kind of broadcast, a demonstration of the 'shifter threat' with us as the main attraction."
I test my restraints, the silver burning deeper as I strain against them. "How long was I out?"
"Maybe an hour. They hit you with a higher dose."
Interrupting our conversation, the door at the top of the cellar stairs opens, spilling harsh light into our prison. A silhouette appears, descending the steps with deliberate slowness. As he moves into the dim light, I get my first clear look at Edward Wright.
He's tall and lean, with Fiona's dark hair and high cheekbones—the only parts of herself she got from him. But where her features are warm and expressive, his are carved from ice, cold and unyielding. He's dressed like a man of authority—a pressed shirt, polished shoes, a wedding ring he still wears despite being a widower.
"Thomas Ennes," he says, his voice cultured and controlled. "We finally meet again."
I say nothing, watching him through narrowed eyes. Beside me, Fiona has gone completely rigid, her scent spiking with a complex mixture of fear and hatred.
"My daughter never did have good taste in men," Wright continues, circling us like we're specimens in a lab. "Always drawn to the most animalistic examples of your kind."
"Better an animal than a monster," Fiona spits, earning a sharp look from her father.
"Still disrespectful, I see. Six years hasn't taught you manners." He turns his attention back to me. "Did you know,Mr. Ennes, that shifters are technically classified asendangered wildlifein three states? Not even human enough for human rights."
"Is that your justification for this?" I ask, keeping my voice level despite the rage building in my chest. "Legal technicalities?"
Wright smiles thinly. "I don't need justification. I need solutions. The shifter problem has gone unchecked for too long. As far as I’m concerned, you’re not endangeredenough. Silvercreek is just the beginning—after tonight's demonstration, other communities will follow our example. Containment, then eradication."
"You're talking about murder," Fiona snaps.
"I'm talking about pest control." Wright crouches in front of his daughter, his expression almost gentle. "You could have been so much more, Fiona. We can still fix you. Once the wolf is gone, you can live a normal life."
