Page 30

"Thomas. Fiona." Relief colors his voice. "Luna woke up. Told us where to find you."

"Perfect timing," I say, shoving Edward toward James, who secures him immediately. "The place is crawling with his people."

"Not anymore." Nic's smile is grim. "We've rounded up most of them. The rest scattered when the pack arrived in force."

His gaze moves to Maisie, still trembling in Fiona's arms, caught in the painful limbo of an incomplete shift. Understanding crosses his face, followed by concern.

"She needs space," he says, already backing toward the door. "We'll secure the building. Take all the time you need."

The other pack members follow, dragging Edward with them. He struggles against James's grip, twisting to spit final venom toward us.

"This isn't over," he snarls. "There are more like me. Hundreds. Thousands. We'll cleanse this infection from humanity if it takes generations."

Nic's hand clamps around the back of Edward's neck, forcing him forward. "Save it for your trial," he says coldly. "The Council of Packs will be very interested in your confession about poisoning your wife."

The door closes behind them, leaving us in sudden, ringing silence. I turn immediately back to Fiona and Maisie, kneeling beside them on the floor.

"He's gone," I tell Maisie, whose eyes are wide with fear. "You're safe now."

Another tremor shakes her small frame, stronger than before. Fur sprouts along her arms, staying this time instead of receding. The shift is progressing whether she's ready or not.

"It's happening," Fiona says, panic edging her voice. "Thomas, what do we do?"

I take Maisie's small hand in mine, noting how the fingers are already shortening, nails darkening into claws. "We help her through it. Together."

Despite everything she's been through, Maisie focuses on me with remarkable clarity.

"Are you really my daddy?" she asks, her voice altered by the partial transformation of her vocal cords. “Mama said so.”

My heart constricts, then expands until I think it might burst from my chest.

"Yes," I tell her, the single word carrying six years of lost moments. "I'm your father, Maisie."

"I knew it," she whispers, wonder briefly overtaking fear. "You smell like me."

A laugh escapes me, unexpected and joyous despite everything. "You're very smart."

Her next words are lost as the shift accelerates, her back arching in pain. I move instinctively, gathering both her and Fiona into my arms, creating a protective circle.

"Don't fight it," I murmur against Maisie's hair. "Let your wolf come. She's part of you."

"It hurts," she sobs, fingers digging into my arm.

"I know, baby. The first time always does. But you're strong. So strong."

Fiona strokes Maisie's hair, her own tears falling freely. "We're both here. Mama and Daddy. We've got you."

The words unlock something in Maisie. Her body relaxes incrementally, surrendering to the inevitable transformation.

Fur spreads more evenly now, rich brown like mine, covering her arms, her face, her small torso.

Her features elongate, restructuring themselves into a wolf's muzzle.

The process is faster than an adult's shift, her malleable child's body adapting more readily to the change.

Within minutes, where my daughter had been, a wolf pup now lies curled in Fiona's lap—tiny, perfect, unmistakably mine.

The distinctive white spotting on her muzzle mirrors the pattern I've carried since my own first shift.

Her amber eyes, huge in her small wolf face, blink up at us in confusion and wonder.

"She's beautiful," Fiona whispers, running gentle fingers through Maisie's fur.

Pride and fierce love overwhelm me. I lean down, touching my forehead to my daughter's, breathing in her scent—pine and sunshine and the unique signature that marks her as a pack, as family, as mine.

Maisie's head dips up, bumping the underside of my chin. A wolf cub's gesture of recognition. Of trust.

Outside, I can hear the sounds of the pack securing the area, of captives being loaded into vehicles, of victory calls being sent back to Silvercreek. But inside this room, time stands suspended around the miracle of our reunited family.

"We should get her home," I say eventually, though I'm reluctant to break this moment. "Shifting takes a lot of energy. She'll need food, rest."

Fiona nods, gathering our wolf-cub daughter more securely in her arms. Maisie snuggles against her mother's chest, clearly exhausted by her transformation, but her eyes remain fixed on me as if afraid I might disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promise her, stroking one finger down her spotted muzzle. "Never again."

Nic appears in the doorway, assessing the situation with one quick glance. "The vehicles are ready whenever you are," he says quietly. "We've got Wright secured. James and two others will transport him directly to the Council holding facility."

"Thank you," I say, the words inadequate for what the pack has done for us today.

Nic's gaze softens as it falls on Maisie's wolf form. "She has your markings."

"She does." Pride evident in my voice. "She’s my daughter."

The words still feel new, miraculous on my tongue. My daughter. Six years too late, but finally, undeniably, mine to protect and love.

I help Fiona to her feet, keeping one hand on Maisie's small furry back to reassure her. Together, we move toward the door, toward the pack waiting outside, toward the home and future that Edward Wright nearly stole from us.

"Ready?" I ask Fiona, searching her face for any hesitation, any lingering doubt.

She looks up at me, then down at our daughter cradled in her arms. The wolf cub blinks sleepily, her ordeal catching up with her now that danger has passed.

"We've been ready for six years," Fiona says, leaning into my side. "We just didn't know it."

Together, the three of us step out of the room where hatred nearly destroyed us, and into the light where our pack—our family—awaits.