Page 52 of Fat Betrayed Mate
"Fortify here. Bring the outlying families into the main compound. Centralized protection, coordinated response, all our people where we can actually defend them."
It's not a bad plan, tactically speaking. But I know I'm advocating for it because it keeps Fiona and Maisie close, where I can watch over them personally.
"That puts everyone at risk if the compound is breached," Victoria points out.
"It also gives us our full strength to prevent a breach in the first place."
The debate continues for another hour, voices rising as stress and fear drive people toward more extreme positions. Through it all, I find myself watching the window, that warm glow of Fiona's cottage lights calling to every protective instinct I have.
Finally, Nic calls for a vote. "All in favor of centralized defense?"
Hands rise around the table. Not unanimous, but enough.
"Motion carries. We'll begin moving outlying families further into the compound tomorrow morning." Nic's gaze finds mine. "Thomas, I want you to coordinate with the families personally. Make sure everyone understands the protocols."
I nod, relief flooding through me. At least this way, I can keep Fiona and Maisie close. At least this way, I can protect them.
"One more thing," Nic adds as the meeting begins to break up. "The hunters mentioned their leader's personal interest in certain pack members. We have information on some of those targets, but if anyone has information that might helpus identify any other potential targets, now is the time to share it."
Around the table, heads shake. No one speaks up.
It confirms my worst fears: Edward is solely after his daughter and granddaughter.
My abandonment of them, my years of solitude, my secrecy—all of it, for naught. Because he’s trying to kill them anyway.
I stay silent, adding another weight to the crushing load of secrets I carry.
"Meeting adjourned," Nic says. "Department heads, stay behind for tactical planning."
As the others file out, I remain seated, staring at that distant glow from Fiona's windows. Somewhere in the darkness beyond our borders, Edward Wright is planning his next move. Somewhere much closer, Fiona is probably throwing clothes into bags, preparing to run again.
And I'm sitting here, paralyzed by the knowledge that any choice I make—telling the truth, keeping secrets, letting her go, holding her close—could be the one that gets her killed.
"Thomas?" James's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "You with us?"
I turn back to the tactical maps spread across the table, forcing myself to focus on defensive positions and patrol routes. But part of my attention remains fixed on that cottage, on the woman and child who've become the center of my world without my permission.
Time is running out. Edward Wright is closing in, Fiona is likely planning to run, and I’m trying to keep from unraveling.
Soon, very soon, all the careful lies and hidden truths are going to come crashing down. And when they do, I just hope I'm strong enough to protect the people I love in the wreckage.
Chapter 13 - Fiona
Morning brings chaos wrapped in the guise of organization. Pack members stream past my window carrying boxes and bags, children clutching stuffed animals as families relocate deeper into the compound. I watch from behind my curtains, coffee cooling in my hands, as neighbors I've barely spoken to become temporary roommates with strangers.
Everyone's moving except us.
Thomas's security protocols keep families on this particular street in our current homes for now—we're already close enough to the main compound to be considered "safe." The irony isn't lost on me. Safe, when my father's note still burns in my memory, when every shadow could hide a rifle scope.
"Mama, why is everyone carrying their houses?" Maisie asks from the kitchen table, where she's pushing scrambled eggs around her plate instead of eating them.
"They're having sleepovers," I say, which isn't entirely a lie. "Sometimes grown-ups need sleepovers too."
"Can we have a sleepover?"
Not the kind you're thinking of, sweetheart."Maybe soon."
A knock interrupts us. I peer through the peephole to find Elder Victoria on my porch, her silver hair braided with ceremonial ribbons that catch the morning light.
