Page 67 of Fat Betrayed Mate
My daughter. I have a daughter.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I manage, though I already know the answer.
"How could I?" Anger flashes through her grief. "You left me without a word, Thomas. No goodbye, no explanation. Just vanished. What was I supposed to think?"
"That I would have stayed if I could," I say, my own voice breaking. "That I would never have left you if there'd been any other choice."
She stares at me, confusion replacing anger. “Don’t lie to me, Thomas—”
The truth I've carried for six years rises in my throat, demanding release. If I'm going to die tonight, I won't do it with this lie between us.
"Your father came to me the night before I left," I say, the memories sharp as broken glass. "Cornered me in the woods, on our territory. Told me he knew about us, about what we were to each other."
Fiona's expression shifts, disbelief warring with hope. "My father..."
"He said if I didn't leave Silvercreek—leave you—immediately, he'd kill you." The words taste bitter, the threat as real now as it was then. "Said he'd make it look like an accident, just like he did with your mother."
"What?" Fiona's face drains of color. "What about my mother?"
I realize too late she doesn't know this part. But there's no going back now.
"He told me he'd been poisoning her for years. Small doses of wolfsbane in her food, her tea. Not enough to kill her outright, but enough to weaken her, prevent her from shifting,make her sick." My voice drops to a whisper. "He was proud of it, Fiona. Bragged about how no one ever suspected, how he watched her die by inches."
A sound escapes her—not quite a cry, not quite a word—as six years of believing a lie collapses around her.
"He killed her," she whispers. "All those years of illness, her weakness... he was poisoning her."
"I believed him when he threatened to do the same to you. That's why I left. To keep you safe." I strain toward her, desperately wishing I could touch her, hold her. "I never knew about Maisie. If I had known—"
"You would have stayed," she finishes, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You would have risked it."
"I would have found another way," I say fiercely. "Any other way than leaving you both."
The silence that follows is filled with six years of lost moments, of grief for what might have been. Fiona's tears flow freely now, tracking silver paths down her cheeks in the dim light.
"All this time," she says finally. "All these years running, hiding, lying about who she is... and he was the monster all along. Not us."
"I'm so sorry, Fiona." The words are painfully inadequate. "I thought I was protecting you."
"And I thought you'd abandoned me." She laughs bitterly. "What a pair we make."
Despite everything—the silver burning my wrists, the knowledge of what awaits us upstairs, the years lost to Edward Wright's hatred—I feel something unfurl in my chest. A truth finally spoken. A connection reforged.
"Maisie," I say, testing the name with new meaning. "My daughter."
Fiona's expression softens. "She has your eyes. Your stubbornness. The way you get quiet when you're thinking hard about something. She’s always asking about her dad.”
"Why is she shifting so young?" I ask, remembering the glow in Maisie's eyes.
"Strong bloodline. My mother's family were all early shifters. Combined with yours..." She shrugs slightly. "The healer said her wolf is exceptionally strong. The stress is probably accelerating things."
Pride mingles with fear at the thought of our child experiencing her first shift in a cage, terrified and alone. "We have to get to her."
Fiona nods, determination replacing despair in her eyes. "If we both pull against the support beams at the same time, maybe we can break them. They're old, rotted in places."
We position ourselves, backs against the wooden posts, arms straining against the silver restraints. The burn intensifies, but I welcome the pain now, let it fuel my strength. For Maisie. For the years stolen from us. For the future we deserve.
"Thomas," Fiona says suddenly, pausing in her efforts. "If we get out of this—when we get out of this—I don't want to waste any more time."
