Page 57 of Fat Betrayed Mate
Which leaves me with one option I've been avoiding: telling Thomas the truth about Maisie.
The thought terrifies me more than facing Edward's rifle. Because once Thomas knows, everything changes. Either he rejects us both, confirming every abandonment issue I've everhad, or he tries to help, putting himself in Edward's crosshairs alongside us.
I stare at Maisie, bent over her coloring book with intense concentration, her tongue poking out slightly as she tries to stay within the lines. She has Thomas's nose, his stubborn chin, his way of tilting her head when she's thinking hard about something.
If I tell him, I'm gambling with her safety. If I don't, I'm gambling with her life.
For the first time in six years, I'm not sure which risk is greater.
"Mama?" Maisie looks up from her drawing. "Are you sad?"
"A little, sweetheart."
"Want to color with me? Coloring makes me feel better when I'm sad."
I settle beside her on the couch, accepting the purple crayon she offers. We color in companionable silence while I weigh impossible choices and prepare for conversations I'm not ready to have.
Outside, the sound of increased patrols reminds me that time is running out. Soon, very soon, I'm going to have to decide whether the truth is a weapon or a shield.
And pray I'm making the right choice for my daughter's future.
Chapter 14 - Thomas
The intelligence briefing that started at dawn with coffee that tastes like motor oil and more news that made my stomach drop into my boots has dragged into mid-morning and shows no signs of ending.
My stomach drops even further when James enters Nic’s cluttered office, clutching papers, looking worried.
"We’ve got a confirmed sighting of Edward Wright in Millfield," James reports, spreading photographs across the conference table. "Arrived earlier this morning with a convoy of vehicles and enough firepower to level a city block."
Millfield. Thirty miles south, close enough for a coordinated strike but far enough to avoid immediate detection. I study the grainy surveillance photos—a tall man with dark, graying hair and the kind of rigid posture and a confident smile, directing what looks like a small army of civilians with hunting rifles.
"How many?" Nic asks.
"Conservative estimate? Forty-three active participants. Could be more arriving hourly." James taps another photo showing a parking lot full of pickup trucks and SUVs. "The League for Humanity put out a call on social media three days ago. They're calling it a 'demonstration of human sovereignty’."
"Demonstration." I spit the word like it tastes bad. "That's what they're calling armed assault now?"
"Gets worse," James continues. "Local law enforcement is either bought off or too intimidated to intervene. The sheriff's department issued a statement calling it a 'peaceful assembly of citizens’."
Nic's jaw tightens. "Peaceful assemblies don't require semi-automatic weapons."
"They're not trying to be subtle anymore." I lean back in my chair, processing the implications. "Edward Wright's done playing games. This is about making a statement."
"About finding his daughter," Nic adds quietly, his eyes finding mine across the table.
The words cut me in half. We all know Fiona is Wright's target, but hearing it stated so plainly makes my wolf pace restlessly under my skin. Every protective instinct I have screams to find her and Maisie, to put myself between them and whatever Wright is planning.
"What’s our plan?" I ask, forcing myself to focus on actionable intelligence instead of spiraling into panic.
"Maximum alert. All vulnerable pack members confined to the main compound. Patrol rotations doubled. Armed response teams on standby." Nic's voice carries the weight of command, but I catch the underlying tension. "Thomas, I need you to coordinate protection for the kids and families specifically. It was your call to keep them here. Make good on it."
"Done." The assignment feels like both a blessing and a curse—it'll keep me close to Maisie, but it also means acknowledging she's in danger.
"There's more." James pulls out a final photograph, this one showing Wright standing beside a van equipped with what appears to be broadcasting equipment. "They're planning to livestream whatever they do. Turn it into a media event."
"Jesus Christ." The pieces click together in my mind, forming a picture I don't want to see. "He's not just coming for Fiona. He's going to make an example of her. Of all of us."
"That's our assessment," Nic confirms grimly. "Which means we need to be ready for anything."
