Page 69 of Fat Betrayed Mate
I signal to Fiona, three quick gestures we used years ago on pack runs. She nods, remembering, and we separate. I approach from the left, she circles right. The first guard doesn't even have time to raise his weapon before my forearm locks around his throat, cutting off sound and air in one smooth motion. Across from me, Fiona moves with similar efficiency, her smaller frame belying her strength as she takes down her target.
No killing. We agreed on that. No unnecessary death for Maisie to witness.
The lock gives way beneath one powerful kick, the door flying open to reveal a nightmare I'll never forget.
Maisie huddles in the center of the cage, her small body wracked with violent tremors. Patchy brown fur sprouts along her arms, receding, then emerging again as her shift tries to complete itself without guidance. Her eyes flash amber in the dim light—my eyes—wide with terror and confusion.
"Mama?" Her voice breaks on the word, caught between a child's cry and a wolf's whimper.
Something fractures inside my chest. My daughter. My child. Trapped and afraid, her first shift happening under the worst possible circumstances. I can see myself in the pattern of emerging fur, in the distinctive coloring that marks my bloodline going back generations.
"I'm here, baby girl." Fiona rushes to the cage, fingers wrapping around the bars. "We're here."
I secure the door, dragging the unconscious guards inside and binding them with their own belts. Every second counts now. Maisie's condition is deteriorating rapidly, the shift progressing despite her fear.
The cage lock is heavy-duty, designed for security rather than convenience. I wrap my hands around it, ignoring the lingering burn from the silver as I wrench with all my strength. Metal groans, then gives with a satisfying snap.
Fiona has the door open before I can move, gathering Maisie into her arms. The child clings to her mother, small fingers digging into Fiona's shoulders.
"It hurts," she sobs. "Mama, something's wrong with me."
"Nothing's wrong with you," I say, kneeling beside them. "Your wolf is just waking up earlier than we expected."
Maisie's tear-streaked face turns toward me, her features caught in the flux of transformation. Despite everything—the pain, the fear, the confusion—I see a flash of recognition in her eyes.
"You're like me," she whispers. "You have a wolf too."
"Yes." My voice nearly breaks on the simple word. "Just like you."
Fiona meets my eyes over Maisie's head, her expression a complex mixture of fear and hope.
"Maisie," she says gently, "there's something important I need to tell you about Thomas."
Another violent tremor runs through Maisie's small frame, cutting off whatever Fiona planned to say. Her backarches, a cry of pain escaping her lips as the shift tries to progress.
"She can't control it," I say, recognizing the signs from the young shifters I've guided through their first transformations. "The stress is accelerating everything."
Fiona's face pales. "What do we do?"
"We help her through it." I move closer, instinct taking over. "Maisie, look at me. Focus on my voice."
Her amber eyes lock onto mine, wide and frightened.
"Your wolf is part of you," I tell her, keeping my voice steady despite the urgency pounding in my veins. "You don't need to fight it. Just breathe with me. In and out."
She tries to follow my exaggerated breathing, her tiny chest heaving with the effort. Another patch of fur emerges along her collarbone, then recedes.
"That's it," I encourage. "You're doing so well."
"It still hurts," she whimpers.
"I know, sweetheart." The endearment slips out naturally. "The first time is always the hardest. But your mama and I are right here."
The door crashes open behind us.
I spin, placing my body between the threat and my family in one fluid motion. Edward Wright stands in the doorway, rifle raised, his face a mask of cold fury as he takes in the scene—his granddaughter freed, his guards unconscious, his plans unraveling.
"Step away from them." The rifle barrel points directly at Fiona's heart.
