Page 32 of Fat Betrayed Mate
"Trial's complete," I say curtly, grabbing a towel from the supply closet. “We both got back.”
"Separately, I'm guessing."
I ignore the knowing look in his eyes and head for the coffee station, needing caffeine more than conversation. The bitter brew does nothing to wash away the taste of failure, but it's better than nothing.
"Border reports came in an hour ago," James continues, following me to the desk area. "Three more checkpoints spotted on the access roads. They're getting bolder."
"How bold?" I ask, grateful for something concrete to focus on.
"Bold enough that Nic's calling an emergency pack meeting. Full assembly, including families." James hands me athick file. "These are the latest intelligence summaries. Makes for some interesting reading."
I flip through the documents, my jaw tightening with each page. Edward Wright's face appears in several surveillance photos, always at the center of the anti-shifter demonstrations. The sight of him makes my wolf pace restlessly, memories of his cold threats echoing in my mind.
End this relationship immediately, or I will ensure she meets the same fate as her mother.
He's here, actively working against us, and Fiona has no idea how much danger she's walking into simply by existing in the same territory. The irony isn't lost on me—six years ago, I pushed her away to protect her from her father, and now that same threat has followed her home.
"Meeting's at ten," James says, studying my expression. "You okay to present the security briefing?"
"Yeah." I close the file, my hands steadier than I feel. "I'll be ready."
***
The main hall fills quickly, pack members streaming in with expressions ranging from concerned to outright worried. It's rare for Nic to call a full assembly—the last time was when the Cheslem Pack was drawing close, preluding the danger that almost brought our pack to its knees.
I take my position near the front, scanning the crowd as people settle into their seats. Luna sits beside Ruby, her usual easy smile replaced by tension as they murmur with one another, heads ducked together.
And then I spot Fiona.
She's seated toward the back, Maisie tucked close against her side. Even from this distance, I can see the protective set of her shoulders, the way her hand rests on her daughter's arm like she's ready to pull the girl behind her at the first sign of trouble. Fiona's dark hair falls in waves around her face, and despite everything between us, the sight of her makes my chest tighten with longing.
Maisie is drawing in a small notebook, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration. When she looks up to whisper something to Fiona, there's something about the gesture that tugs at my memory—the tilt of her head, maybe, or the way she gestures with her free hand while speaking.
She reminds me of someone.
The thought floats through my mind unbidden, but before I can examine it further, Nic calls for attention.
"Thank you all for coming on short notice," he begins, his voice carrying easily through the packed hall. "I want to address some security concerns that have come to our attention."
He outlines the situation carefully—anti-shifter activity increasing in neighboring towns, organized demonstrations, the need for enhanced precautions. His tone is measured, calm, designed to inform without inciting panic.
"These measures are precautionary," Nic emphasizes. "We have no specific threats against Silvercreek at this time."
I catch James's eye across the room. We both know it's more serious than Nic is letting on, but there's no point in terrifying families unnecessarily. Still, I notice several parents pulling their children closer, and Fiona's grip on Maisie tightens visibly.
"Travel outside pack territory should be limited to essential business only," Nic continues. "We're implementing a buddy system for anyone who must leave our borders, and we ask that you inform security of your departure and expected return times."
An older pack member raises his hand. "What about the children's school? Some of the human kids from town attend classes here. Some of our children go to schools outside of Silvercreek."
"We're reviewing all external programs," Nic replies diplomatically. "Safety is our top priority."
Throughout the briefing, my gaze keeps drifting back to Fiona and Maisie. The little girl has abandoned her drawing to listen intently to the discussion, her small face serious beyond her years. When she turns to ask Fiona a whispered question, there's something familiar in her expression—the furrow between her brows, the way she chews her bottom lip while thinking.
The question nags at me, but I can't place the resemblance. Perhaps it's just the circumstances that make me see connections that aren't there.
Nic opens the floor for questions, and the discussion continues for another thirty minutes. Security protocols, evacuation routes, and communication procedures. I answer questions about patrol schedules and response times, my voice steady and professional even as part of my attention remains fixed on the woman and child in the back row.
When Fiona catches me looking, our eyes meet across the crowded room. For a moment, something unguarded flickers in her expression—fear, maybe, or worry that goes deeper than general pack security concerns. Then her walls slam back intoplace, and she looks away, but not before I see her unconsciously pull Maisie closer.
