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I can't shake the image of Fiona's face when I left her cottage—the fear she was trying so hard to hide, the way her hands trembled when she thought I wasn't looking. Something has her terrified. I have a strong inkling I know what it is—or, at least, part of it. She must know Edward is lurking near, surely. Or, God forbid, it’s something worse.

Maybe, a voice says in the back of my mind, tormentous, it’s you she’s afraid of.

I shove it down, scream it into silence.

But none of it changes the fact that I'm walking away from her. Again.

The irony burns in my chest as I make my way through Silvercreek's darkened streets. Six years ago, I pushed her away to protect her. Now she's pushing me away, and every instinct I have screams that she's about to run.

My radio crackles to life, cutting through my brooding. "Thomas, we need you at the northern checkpoint. Priority one."

James's voice carries an edge I haven't heard since the Cheslem Pack attacks. I break into a run, my wolf surging beneath my skin as adrenaline floods my system.

"What's the situation?"

"Two hunters. Captured inside our perimeter."

Inside our perimeter. My blood turns cold. That puts them less than a mile from Fiona's cottage, from where Maisie sleeps, with fever burning through her small body.

"On my way."

***

The scene at the checkpoint is controlled chaos. Two humans sit zip-tied to trees, their faces bloodied and sullen. James paces nearby, his wolf clearly close to the surface, while Nic crouches in front of the prisoners with deadly calm.

"Gentlemen," Nic says as I approach, his voice silk over steel. "You're trespassing on private property. Armed trespassing, which makes this a federal offense when it comes to shifter territories, though I suspect you knew that."

"We ain't done nothing wrong," the larger hunter spits. He's maybe forty, with the soft gut of someone who thinks carrying a rifle makes him dangerous. "Just hunting predators."

"What kind of predators?" I ask, stepping into the light. Both men look up at me, and I see their eyes widen slightly at whatever they read in my expression.

"The kind that shouldn't exist," the smaller one mutters. He's younger, in his early twenties, with the angry energy of someone looking for something to blame for his failures.

"Be more specific," Nic says.

"You know what we're talking about," the older hunter says. "Freaks of nature. Monsters pretending to be human."

My hands clench into fists, my wolf pushing against my control. These men were armed, on our territory, close enough to Fiona and Maisie to—

"What were you planning to do when you found these 'monsters'?" James asks.

The younger hunter's mouth twists into an ugly smile. "Same thing you'd do with any rabid animal."

I'm moving before conscious thought kicks in, grabbing him by the shirt and hauling him to his feet. "You’re threatening my pack?"

"Thomas." Nic's voice cuts through my rage. "Let him down."

His authority chills my rage. I force myself to release the hunter, but I don't step back. Let him see exactly what he's dealing with.

"We're not threatening nobody," the older man says quickly, apparently deciding diplomacy might keep him breathing. "We're just following orders."

"Whose orders?" James demands.

The hunters exchange glances. Finally, the older one shrugs. "Boss wants what he wants. We just do the job."

"And what does your boss want?"

"To find his daughter and her brat," the younger hunter says with casual cruelty. "Apparently, the little bitch has been hiding out with you freaks."

The world tilts beneath me.

It’s my worst fears confirmed. Edward Wright knows she’s here—he's specifically hunting for Fiona and Maisie. Everything we've been dealing with, all the escalating violence, it's because she's here.

"What else?" Nic presses, his voice deadly quiet.

"Boss says once we find them, we can deal with the rest of you however we want." The younger hunter grins like he's discussing weekend plans. "Been looking forward to some real hunting."

I have to turn away before I tear his throat out. My wolf is clawing at my restraints, demanding blood, demanding protection for our mate and—

Our mate and what?

The thought hits me like a physical blow. Not just Fiona. Maisie too. My protective instincts toward that little girl go far beyond normal pack loyalty somehow, far beyond simple fondness for a sweet child. I have no idea how.

"Load them up," Nic orders. "James, get them to the holding cells. We'll decide what to do with them after the council meeting. We can coordinate with human law enforcement when the time comes.”

"Council meeting?" I ask.

"Emergency session. Twenty minutes." Nic's expression is grim. "This changes everything.”

What feels like moments later, I watch as the Pack Building’s conference room fills quickly, voices low and urgent as council members file in.

I take my usual seat, but my attention keeps drifting to the window that faces Fiona's cottage.

Too far to see clearly, but I can just make out the warm glow of lights in her windows.

Is she packing right now? Loading up those carefully organized bags, I'm betting she keeps ready for quick escapes?

"The situation has escalated beyond our initial projections," Nic begins without preamble. "We now have confirmation that the anti-shifter group is conducting active operations within our territory."

"How active?" Elder Victoria asks.

"Armed infiltration. Intelligence gathering.

And based on what we learned from tonight's captives, they're planning something. Admittedly, it seems… rudimentary, at least so far. They’re hardly trained soldiers. But the point still stands that armed soldiers entered our territory today, with the intent of… hunting us. Hunting shifters.”

Whispers spread fast through the room, worry, shuffling, murmuring.

James takes over, outlining what the hunters revealed about their organization's structure and goals. I try to focus on the tactical briefing, but my wolf keeps pushing at my consciousness, demanding I check on Fiona and Maisie.

"The threat level has reached critical," Nic concludes. "Which brings us to our options for protecting vulnerable pack members."

"Evacuation," Elder Marcus says immediately. "Get the families out until this blows over."

"Where?" James asks. "The Riverside Pack is already dealing with refugees. Redpine is under their own pressure. And any movement outside our territory puts people at risk during transport."

"Risk during transport versus sitting here waiting for an attack," Elder Amelia counters levelly. "I know which I'd choose."

"The children should definitely be relocated," another council member adds. "They're the most vulnerable, and the hardest to protect during active combat."

Every word feels like a knife twisting in my chest. They're talking about sending Maisie away, putting her in some distant safe house where I can't protect her. Where Fiona will follow, taking them both beyond my reach.

"I disagree," I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

The room goes quiet. All eyes turn to me, and I see surprise in several faces. James frowns, clearly noting the emotional edge in my tone.

"On what grounds?" Victoria asks.

I scramble for rational arguments to mask the irrational panic clawing at my chest. "Divided resources. We can’t evacuate children alone, without their parents.

But if we evacuate families, we lose half our adult population to escort and protection details.

That leaves our territory vulnerable to the main assault. "

"Better a vulnerable territory than dead children," Marcus points out.

"And what happens when the hunters follow the evacuees? These aren't random attacks—they have specific intelligence, specific targets. Scattering our people just makes them easier to pick off individually."

It's not entirely wrong, but it's not the real reason I'm arguing against evacuation.

The real reason is that every fiber of my being revolts at the idea of letting Fiona and Maisie out of my sight.

"Thomas has a point," James says slowly. "Coordinated defense is more effective than scattered protection details."

"The families could go to the Mountain Pack territory," Amelia suggests. "Marcus's brother runs a tight operation there."

"Two days' travel through hostile territory," I counter immediately. "Perfect opportunity for ambush."

"So what's your alternative?" Marcus asks, his tone suggesting he's not entirely convinced by my arguments.

"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 help us 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.