Page 75 of Fat Betrayed Mate
Nic glances at his watch. "Transport leaves at two. If you wanted to..." He trails off, looking at me with understanding. "Some people find closure helps."
The thought of seeing Edward again makes my skin crawl, but beneath the revulsion lies something else—a need to end this chapter on my terms, not his.
"I'll go," I decide, meeting Thomas's concerned gaze. "I need to."
"I'll stay with Maisie," he offers immediately. "Take all the time you need."
Nic rises to leave, pausing at the door. "Ruby's coordinating security for the transport. She and James make quite a team. Haven't seen those two apart much lately."
The observation comes with a knowing smile that makes me wonder what I've missed during my self-imposed isolation these past months. The thought of Ruby—practical, no-nonsense Ruby—finding connection with James is unexpectedly cheering.
***
The transport site buzzes with activity when I arrive. Council representatives in formal attire consult with human law enforcement officers, their cooperation a testament to the progress made in shifter-human relations over recent decades.
Ruby spots me immediately, breaking away from where she's been reviewing security protocols with James. "They're almost ready to move him," she says, squeezing my arm. "Are you sure about this?"
"I need to see it finished," I tell her. The years of running, of looking over my shoulder, of fearing my father's reach—they deserve a proper ending.
James approaches, his usual stoic expression softened with concern. "Five minutes," he says. "That's all they'll allow. He's under heavy guard."
I nod, following their directions to a secure area where Edward waits in a transport vehicle. Silver-lined restraints bind his wrists and ankles—the same type he used on us. Two Council guards flank him, their postures alert despite his secured state.
He looks smaller somehow. The intimidating presence that dominated my childhood reduced to an aging man in handcuffs. His eyes, however, remain unchanged—cold and calculating as they meet mine.
"Fiona." He speaks my name like it's a disappointment. "Come to say goodbye to your father?"
"I said goodbye to my father years ago," I reply, surprising myself with the steadiness in my voice. "I'm here to see Edward Wright taken away."
His lips twist into something approaching a smile. "Still so dramatic. You get that from your mother."
"I'm proud to have inherited anything from her." I stand straighter, refusing to be diminished by his tactics. "She was stronger than you ever knew."
"She was weak," he spits, mask slipping briefly. "Corrupted by animal instincts, she couldn't control. I was trying to save her. To save you."
"You were trying to control what you feared." The realization feels like a key unlocking a door I've kept shut for years. "You couldn't stand that she was special in ways you could never be. That I was, too."
"Special?" He laughs, a hollow sound. "Is that what you call it? You're deluded, Fiona. Genetic aberrations aren't gifts."
"You're wrong." I step closer, no longer afraid of this man who once loomed so large in my nightmares. "And you failed. I'm still a shifter. Maisie is a shifter. We're exactly what you tried to destroy, and we're thriving."
Something flickers across his face—frustration, perhaps, or the first glimmerings of doubt.
"That animal has poisoned your mind," he says, falling back on familiar hatred. "You and that mutt of a child—"
"My daughter," I interrupt, "is extraordinary. And she has a father who loves her for exactly who she is."
"Love,"Edward scoffs. "Another delusion. I loved you enough to try to fix you, Fiona. More than your mother ever did, wasting away with her precious wolf instead of fighting to stay human for her family."
The words are calculated to wound, to provoke the insecurity and guilt he cultivated in me for years. But they fall flat, empty shells that no longer contain power.
"You never loved me," I say, the truth of it washing through me like a cleansing tide. "You never even knew me."
For the first time, I see uncertainty in his eyes, as if my immunity to his manipulation has shaken him more than anger ever could.
"We're ready to move," one of the guards announces, cutting short whatever response Edward might have made.
I take a step back, oddly peaceful. "Goodbye, Edward."
