Page 26 of Fat Betrayed Mate (Silvercreek Lottery Mates #2)

Thomas explodes into wolf form before I can blink, his massive body surging forward with a roar that echoes across the ridge. His fur catches the sunlight—rich brown streaked with silver—as he lunges between us and the approaching hunters.

"Run!" The command tears from his throat, caught between human and wolf.

I grab Maisie, lifting her against my chest in one fluid motion. She's too heavy for me to carry far, but adrenaline makes her weight irrelevant as I sprint for the forest edge.

Gunshots crack behind us. Maisie buries her face against my neck, her small body trembling.

"Mama—"

"Don't look," I whisper, ducking under low-hanging branches. "Just hold on."

The forest swallows us, familiar paths unfurling before me like old friends. I haven't run these woods in years, but my body remembers—which hollows hide our scent, which streams can mask our trail. Silvercreek's territory is etched into my bones.

My lungs burn, each breath a knife between my ribs. Maisie's weight grows heavier with every stride, but I push forward, driven by the sound of pursuit crashing through the underbrush behind us.

"Where's Thomas?" Maisie asks between bouncing steps.

"Fighting," I manage, changing direction at a massive oak I recognize. "Protecting us."

Something moves in the forest ahead—multiple somethings. More hunters, cutting off our path. I skid to a stop, pressing against the rough bark of a pine tree, trying to silence my breathing.

Radio static crackles through the trees, followed by a man's voice: "Group Two, eastern quadrant. Any sign?"

I clamp my hand over Maisie's mouth, feeling her rapid breath against my palm. Three hunters move through the clearing ahead, rifles held ready, scanning the forest floor for tracks.

"Nothing yet," one responds. "But Wright says they're here somewhere."

Wright. My father.

Cold sweat breaks across my skin. He's coordinating this, directing the hunt personally. The distant bark of automatic weapons to the west suggests Thomas is still fighting—which means these hunters aren't the same group. They're hunting in teams, a coordinated sweep.

We're surrounded.

Maisie squirms in my arms, eyes wide with fear. I crouch down, setting her on her feet.

"Listen to me," I whisper, stroking her hair. "We need to move very quietly, okay? Like a game."

She nods, solemn beyond her years. We've played this "game" before, in other towns, other hiding places. My brave girl already knows what it means when Mama looks over her shoulder too often.

I keep us low and moving, avoiding exposed areas, taking the most overgrown paths where the hunters' bulky frames would struggle to follow. But they're everywhere, materializing between trees, voices calling to each other across the forest.

A flash of movement in the distance catches my attention. Not a wolf—someone moving through the underbrush toward town, clearly having heard the hunters.

Luna.

Relief floods through me. I change course, pulling Maisie toward where I spotted my friend. We emerge into a small clearing just as Luna spots us, whirling around.

"Fiona!" She rushes to us, eyes wide. "What the hell is happening? The northern perimeter's swarming with hunters."

"The hunters— Wright ," I say, the words bitter on my tongue. "He found us."

Understanding dawns on her face. She's heard enough from me these past weeks to know what that means. "Where's Thomas?"

"Fighting them off at the ridge. There are more coming." I push Maisie forward gently. "Luna, please—take her."

Luna's eyes widen, but she doesn't hesitate, kneeling to Maisie's level. "Hey, little one. Want to go on an adventure with me?"

Maisie's face crumples. "I want to stay with Mama."

I crouch beside her, ignoring the fresh sounds of pursuit growing closer. "Remember how brave you were when we moved to Silvercreek? I need you to be that brave again."

"Are the bad men coming?"

The simple question breaks something inside me. "Yes, baby. But Luna will keep you safe until I come find you."

"Promise you'll come back?" Her voice wavers, unleashing memories of every frightened question in every new town, every hasty departure.

"I promise." I kiss her forehead, inhaling her scent—pine needles and sunshine and that underlying sweetness that's uniquely Maisie. "Go with Luna now. Listen to what she tells you."

Luna meets my eyes over Maisie's head. "I'll take her to the safe house near the river bend. The pack's gathering the children there."

I nod, throat too tight for words.

"Fiona," Luna says, her voice dropping. "What about Thomas?"

"I'm going back for him."

She studies me for a moment, then nods. "Be careful. These aren't just angry humans with guns. They're organized."

"I know." Better than anyone, I know what my father is capable of.

Luna takes Maisie's hand, already moving toward the deeper forest. "We'll see you soon," she calls over her shoulder, injecting confidence she can't possibly feel into her voice.

I watch them disappear among the trees, feeling like I've torn off a limb. Every instinct screams to follow, to keep my child within sight. Instead, I turn back toward the ridge, toward Thomas.

Toward the man who once left me, but is now fighting for my life.

***

The forest has transformed from sanctuary to battlefield. Gunshots punctuate the air like irregular heartbeats. Smoke drifts between trees—tear gas, maybe, or smoke grenades. The acrid scent burns my nostrils as I navigate back toward where I left Thomas.

A hunter appears suddenly from behind a fallen log, as startled to see me as I am to see him. His rifle swings up automatically.

I duck behind a massive oak as the shot splinters bark near my head. Adrenaline floods my system, the familiar burn of my wolf stirring beneath my skin.

Not yet, I tell her. Not yet.

I dart between trees, moving in a zigzag pattern. More shouts follow, more hunters converging on my position. I change direction, no longer able to return to the ridge, forced deeper into unfamiliar territory.

The trees thin suddenly, opening to a maintenance road I don't recognize. I freeze at the edge, exposed and vulnerable. Two ATVs race past, hunters scanning the treeline. I press against a tree trunk, making myself as small and as invisible as possible.

More gunfire to the north, accompanied by howls—pack members engaging the hunters. This isn't just about me anymore. This is war.

I cut southeast, hoping to circle back toward the main compound. If I can reach Nic, alert the pack leadership about the scale of the attack—

A hand clamps over my mouth from behind, dragging me backward into the underbrush. I thrash, teeth seeking flesh, when a familiar scent hits me—pine and snow.

"It's me," James hisses, releasing me carefully. "Follow."

He leads me through a dense thicket to where Nic crouches behind an improvised barricade of fallen trees. A dozen pack members move with military precision around them, some human, some wolf, creating defensive positions.

"Fiona," Nic says, relief washing across his face. "Thank god. Where's Thomas?"

"We got separated," I manage between gasping breaths. "Hunters ambushed us on the ridge."

Nic's face hardens. "They're hitting us from all sides. Eastern perimeter's completely compromised."

James hands me a water bottle. "Some of the Elders are organizing the evacuation of the vulnerable pack members. All the kids are being moved to the river safe house."

My heart leaps. "That's where Luna's taking Maisie, I think."

"Good." Nic consults a battered map spread across a rock. "James, I need you to take three wolves and secure the southern access road. They're bringing in more vehicles."

James nods, already moving away. "Be careful," he calls to me before disappearing into the trees.

"I need to find Thomas," I tell Nic, already rising.

He catches my arm. "Fiona, it's chaos out there. The hunters have infrared equipment, radio coordination. They're hunting like it's a military operation. They might be untrained, but that doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous.”

"I don't care." I pull free from his grip. "Thomas is out there because of me. Because of my father."

Something shifts in Nic's expression—understanding, maybe, or resignation. "You know where Luna was heading?"

"The river bend safe house."

"Check there first. Then stay with your daughter." His voice softens. "That's where you're needed most."

But he doesn't understand. Maisie needs both her parents now—even if one of them doesn't know it yet.

"I'll find Thomas," I say, already backing away. "We'll meet you at the safe house."

Nic opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, seeing the determination in my eyes. "Don't get shot," he says finally. "We've got enough problems."

I slip back into the forest, moving more cautiously now. The sounds of conflict echo from all directions, disorienting me. Twice, I have to flatten myself against the earth as hunter patrols pass nearby.

This isn't random violence. This is methodical, practiced. My father has been preparing for this moment for years, some part of me knows—ever since I ran with his grandchild in my womb.

A low growl from the underbrush freezes me mid-step. I crouch, ready to run, when a massive wolf emerges from between two fallen logs. Blood mats the fur on his shoulder, but his eyes—Thomas's eyes, amber and fierce—lock onto mine with unmistakable relief.

"Thomas," I breathe.

He approaches slowly, muscles rippling beneath his bloodied coat. Up close, I can see the wound isn't deep—a graze, painful but not serious. My hand reaches out instinctively, fingers sinking into his thick fur.

"You're okay," I whisper, the knot in my chest loosening slightly. "I thought—"

He nudges my hand with his muzzle, cutting off my words. His eyes ask the question his wolf form can't voice.

"Maisie's with Luna," I tell him. "They're heading to the safe house by the river bend."

Relief floods his scent, followed immediately by alarm as a crashing sound comes from our left. More hunters.

Thomas growls, positioning himself between me and the noise. But we can't keep running, can't keep hiding. We need to find Maisie.

"We need to get to the safe house," I say. "But we'll move faster as wolves."

Thomas huffs in agreement. I let the wolf forth, close my eyes, allowing the change to ripple through me.

It hurts. My wolf is angry, stressed, desperate. But beneath the pain lies relief—like finally exhaling after holding my breath for too long. She’s going to find her pup.

There's no time for the reunion our wolves want—the press of noses, the circling dance of recognition. Instead, Thomas leads the way through the forest, following a path only wolves can see.

The world shifts into primal simplicity through my wolf's eyes. Threat or ally. Safety or danger. Pack or enemy. We move as one unit, Thomas slightly ahead, both of us tracking Luna and Maisie's scent through the chaotic weave of human and wolf trails crisscrossing the forest.

Their path is clear at first—Luna moving confidently toward the river safe house. But halfway there, something changes. The trail veers sharply east, toward the territory boundary. Luna's pace becomes erratic.

They were being pursued.

We follow the altered trail to a small clearing where signs of struggle mar the forest floor. Torn earth where claws dug for traction. Blood—not much, but enough to recognize Luna's scent in it. And boot prints, several sets, surrounding a smaller pair I recognize with painful clarity.

Maisie's sneakers. The ones with rainbow laces she picked out herself.

Thomas growls, circling the clearing, rage, and confusion pouring off him in waves. I nudge a disturbed patch of leaves, revealing Luna's form curled beneath a hastily constructed cover of branches.

She's unconscious but breathing. A nasty gash crosses her temple, dried blood matting her blonde hair. I shift back to human and check her pulse.

"Luna," I whisper, patting her cheek gently. "Luna, wake up."

Her eyes flutter, unfocused with pain.

"Ambush," she mumbles. "Six of them. Tried to run..." She struggles to sit up. "Maisie—"

"Where is she?" My voice cracks with desperation.

"He took her." Luna's eyes clear slightly, focusing on my face. "Your father. He was here, Fiona. I think it was him. Said something about... making things right."

Ice floods my veins. Thomas snarls beside me, understanding enough to know Maisie's been taken, even if he doesn't yet know why my father would specifically target her.

"The old Creekside hunting lodge," Luna manages before her eyes roll back.

I know the place—a rundown lodge just beyond pack territory where local hunters would gather during deer season. Remote enough for privacy, accessible enough for vehicles.

Perfect for a man planning to make an example of his shifter daughter and granddaughter.

"Get help," I tell Luna, though I'm not sure she can hear me. "Tell Nic where we've gone."

I shift back to wolf form, the transformation smoother this time, my wolf eager to hunt. Thomas meets my eyes, and a moment of perfect understanding passes between us. Whatever lies between us—secrets, betrayals, half-truths—none of it matters now.

Only Maisie matters.

We run as one unit through the forest, following the scent trail of fear and triumph that marks my father's path. It leads us beyond pack territory, into the neutral zone where human and shifter lands meet uneasily.

The hunting lodge appears through the trees as dusk settles—a ramshackle two-story building with peeling paint and boarded windows.

Vehicles crowd the dirt clearing around it, men with rifles patrolling the perimeter.

Flood lights mounted on poles illuminate the area with harsh white light, creating deep shadows at the forest edge where we hide.

Beneath the overwhelming scent of humans and gun oil, I catch it—Maisie's unique signature, tinged with fear but alive. Inside that building, my daughter waits, terrified and alone with the man who wants to eradicate her kind.

Thomas's wolf presses against mine, a silent question in his eyes. I nod toward a half-open cellar window on the building's far side, obscured by overgrown bushes and shadowed from the floodlights.

Together, we circle through the forest, using every shadow and dip in the terrain for cover. The hunters are alert but overconfident, their attention focused outward toward the forest rather than the immediate perimeter of the building.

We pause at the forest edge, twenty yards from the cellar window. Thomas's amber gaze meets mine, and I see my own fierce determination reflected back at me. We have no plan beyond getting inside, no weapons beyond teeth and claws.

But we have something the hunters don't understand—the desperate, unstoppable fury of parents fighting for their child.

Even if only one of us knows it yet.