Page 44 of A Cobbled Conspiracy
“I don’t know what to say,” she began, her voice barely audible despite the amplification. “I’ve been fighting this for months, just like everyone else in this room, trying to find ways to save the pharmacy… but every door I try gets slammed shut. The building repairs alone would cost more than I can afford, and with the new code violations…” She trailed off, looking defeated.
“We’ll help with the repairs,” offered someone from the crowd. “The whole community will pitch in.”
“It’s not just the money,” Paula said, her voice growing stronger. “It’s everything. The insurance premiums they’re demanding, the permit delays, the constant harassment. I’m seventy-sevenyears old, and I just… I don’t know if I have the energy to keep fighting.”
Adelaide moved to Paula’s side, her hand finding her friend’s shoulder in a gesture of support. “You don’t have to fight alone,” she said into the microphone. “That’s what tonight is about. That’s what community means.”
Paula nodded, tears streaming down her face, but I could see the exhaustion in her posture. Whatever fighting spirit had sustained her through months of pressure was clearly wearing thin.
But at least she had some hope now. And she knew that her community would do everything to help her in this fight.
The meeting continued for another hour, with committees formed to handle media outreach, legal coordination, and protest organization. Business owners shared their own experiences with suspicious inspections and permit problems. Plans were made for a phone tree to spread information quickly and a fund to help affected businesses with legal costs.
As the formal meeting wound down and people began forming smaller discussion groups, I noticed Dominic and Blake hadn’t contributed much beyond the occasional nod or murmur of agreement. They’d been observing rather than participating, and something about their silence felt deliberate.
“Everyone appears adequately galvanized,” Blake said quietly as we prepared to leave.
“It's tedious, but such rallies do motivate people into action,” Dominic replied, but his tone was oddly neutral for someone whose own mate’s shop was part of the threatened district.
I was about to ask them about their lack of participation when Adelaide approached our group, her political smile firmly in place.
“Thank you all for coming,” she said, shaking hands with Blake and Dominic. “I hope we can count on your support as this situation develops?”
“Of course,” Dominic said smoothly.
Something about the exchange felt formal, almost diplomatic. Adelaide’s smile never wavered, but I caught a flicker of calculation in her eyes as she assessed Blake and Dominic.
“Excellent,” she said. “I’m sure yourexpertisecould be valuable as we develop our strategy.”
Another round of polite agreements and handshakes, and then Adelaide moved on to work the room like the experienced politician she was. But the interaction left me with the uncomfortable feeling that everyone was having conversations around the edges of what they actually meant.
As we walked back to Blake’s car through the early December evening, Dominic’s hand found mine. The cool winter air carried the faint scent of woodsmoke from someone's fireplace, mixing with Dominic's familiar pine and cinnamon. A flutter of warmth bloomed beneath my ribs at his touch, radiating outward from where our fingers intertwined.
Soon, I’d tell him about the baby. Soon, we’d be making plans for the future, building something that would last. Whatever complications lay ahead, we'd figure it out.
Right now, I wanted to hold onto this simple moment a little longer.
As we reached the car, I squeezed his hand gently.
Right now, I wanted to allow myself to believe that some things, at least, were exactly as perfect as they seemed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cool December air bit at my cheeks as Penny and I stepped out of Dr. Westfield’s office, but I barely noticed the cold. My fingers traced the edge of the ultrasound photo tucked safely in my jacket pocket—our baby’s first picture, grainy and indistinct but absolutely perfect.
“Six weeks,” I murmured, still marveling at the words. “She said everything looks exactly right.”
“I can’t believe how clear the little bean looked on that screen,” Penny said as we walked toward where Marcus waited with the car. “Dominic’s going to lose his mind when he sees that picture.”
My chest warmed at the thought. Tonight, after dinner, I’d take Dominic into our nest and show him the photo. Maybe I'd press his hand to my belly first, let him feel the place where our child was growing. The pregnancy wasn’t showing yet, but knowing it was there made every moment feel precious.
“I keep thinking about his face when I tell him,” I admitted, pulling my coat tighter against the wind. “He’s going to be such a good father.”
“Are you kidding? He’s already in full protective alpha mode and he doesn’t even know yet.” Penny grinned, his cheeks pink from the cold. “Once he finds out you’re carrying his baby, he’ll probably want to wrap you in bubble wrap.”
I laughed, the sound carrying on the crisp air. “He’s been bringing me tea every morning without me asking. And yesterday he rearranged my entire work area because he thought the lighting wasn’t good enough.”
“Alpha instincts,” Penny said knowingly. “My Dam said my Sire knew on an instinctual level before she told her. Something about pheromone changes.”