Page 12 of Fat Sold Mate (Silvercreek Lottery Mates #3)

A day later, the forest floor crunches beneath our feet as we trek deeper into a wilderness that grows wilder with each mile.

Ruby walks three paces ahead, her dark hair catching the dappled sunlight that filters through pine branches.

We abandoned the Jeep six hours ago when the gas gauge hit empty, and now we're on foot, two unwilling mates fleeing through territory that belongs to neither Silvercreek nor the Cheslem pack—that belongs to no pack, as far as I can scent.

“We should stop soon,” I say, watching the sky darken toward evening. “Find somewhere to hunker down for the night.”

Ruby doesn't slow her determined stride. “Not yet. We need more distance.”

She's been like this since we left the cabin yesterday—driven, focused, speaking only when necessary. The bond between us pulses with her determination, a steady rhythm beneath my skin that I'm still learning to interpret.

“You're exhausted,” I point out, sensing her fatigue through our connection despite her efforts to hide it. “We both are.”

She finally stops, turning to face me with that stubborn tilt to her chin I've come to recognize. “Fine. But not here. Too exposed.”

She's right, of course. We're in a clearing now, the trees thinning enough to leave us visible from multiple angles. My wolf approves of her caution, even as I bristle at her tone.

“There.” I nod toward a ridge to the east. “Higher ground, better vantage point. More defensible.”

For a moment, I think she'll argue simply because the suggestion came from me, but she just nods and changes direction without comment. Small victories.

We hike in silence for another hour, the late afternoon sun slanting through the trees.

The ridge is steeper than it looked from a distance, forcing us to use our hands at times to navigate the rocky incline.

When Ruby slips on loose shale, I instinctively reach for her, my hand closing around her upper arm to steady her.

The contact sends a jolt through the bond—her surprise, my concern, and beneath it all, that constant hum of awareness that comes from being connected to another person against your will.

She pulls away as soon as she's stable, but I feel the aftershock of the touch lingering between us like static electricity.

“Thanks,” she mutters, the first concession of the day.

I nod, not trusting my voice. My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin, agitated by her proximity and the bond's constant reminder that she is—technically, legally, magically—my mate.

He doesn't understand the complexities, the coercion, the anger.

He only knows she smells like home, danger, and possibility all at once.

We reach the ridge just as the sun begins to set, painting the western sky in violent streaks of orange and crimson.

From this height, we can see for miles—the dark carpet of forest stretching in all directions, broken only by the occasional glint of water and the distant smudge of mountains to the north.

“No signs of pursuit,” Ruby says, scanning the landscape with narrowed eyes. “Yet.”

“They'll be coming,” I reply, because we both know it's true. The Cheslem Alpha won't give up so easily. “But we've bought some time.”

Ruby nods, her shoulders finally slumping as she allows herself to acknowledge her exhaustion. “We need shelter. Food. A plan that isn't just running.”

“One problem at a time.” I shrug off my pack—a makeshift affair we assembled from supplies at the cabin before the attack. “Shelter first. There might be caves in these ridges.”

We search the rocky outcropping as twilight deepens around us, finally discovering a shallow overhang that offers minimal protection from the elements. It's better than nothing, but not by much.

“This will have to do,” Ruby says, her voice tight with frustration as she drops her own small pack. “Unless you want to sleep in the open.”

“The overhang will work,” I agree, though my wolf bristles at the inadequacy of the shelter I'm providing for my mate. It's a primal instinct I have to actively suppress. “I'll take first watch.”

Ruby doesn't argue, simply unrolls the thin emergency blanket we salvaged from the Jeep and sits with her back against the rock face. I settle at the edge of our meager shelter, eyes trained on the darkening forest below.

Night falls quickly in the mountains, stars appearing one by one in a sky untainted by artificial light. The waning moon casts just enough illumination to see by, at least for shifter eyes. Behind me, Ruby's breathing eventually deepens into sleep, her exhaustion finally overcoming her wariness.

Through our bond, I feel the moment she begins to dream—emotions fluttering erratically, too quick to interpret but tinged with fear. I resist the urge to wake her. Dreams, even frightening ones, are better than our reality right now.

The attack comes just before midnight.

A twig snaps in the forest below—too deliberate to be wildlife. My wolf surges forward, senses sharpening as I detect the unmistakable scent of Cheslem corruption on the night breeze.

“Ruby,” I whisper, already moving to wake her. “Company.”

She's instantly alert, eyes flashing in the darkness. No disorientation, no questions—just immediate understanding and readiness that makes my wolf rumble with approval.

“How many?” she asks, voice barely audible.

“Two, maybe three.” I strain my senses, cataloging the faint sounds and scents carried on the night air. “Scouts, not the main force.”

“They're still tracking us.” It's not a question.

I nod, moving to the edge of the overhang to peer into the darkness below. “They're being careful, approaching slowly. They don't know exactly where we are yet.”

Ruby appears beside me, her shoulder brushing mine as she surveys the same terrain. The casual contact sends another pulse through the bond, awareness sharpening between us.

“Options?” she asks.

“We can run or fight.” I turn to meet her gaze. “If we run, we alert them to our position. If we stay, they'll find us eventually.”

Ruby's eyes narrow in thought. “What if we separate? I move north, make noise, draw them away. You circle behind, take them out.”

“Absolutely not.” The words come out harsher than intended, my wolf bristling at the mere suggestion of her placing herself in danger. “We stay together.”

“It's tactical,” she argues. “They won't expect—”

“No.” I cut her off. “They'll kill you, Ruby. And I'll feel every second of it through this.” I gesture sharply between us, indicating the bond.

Her jaw tightens, but I sense her reluctant agreement through our connection. “Fine. Then we fight together.”

Before I can respond, a howl splits the night—a corrupted version of a wolf's call, the sound unnaturally pitched and grating. They've caught our scent.

“No more time,” I say, already pulling off my shirt, preparing to shift. “Stay behind me.”

“Like hell,” Ruby snaps, grabbing a jagged rock the size of her fist. “I can fight too.”

I don't waste breath arguing. The first Cheslem scout is already bounding up the ridge, moving with the jerky, unnatural speed of the corrupted. I shift in one fluid motion, bones cracking and reforming as my human skin gives way to russet fur.

The first scout reaches the overhang just as my transformation completes.

I meet it mid-leap, my larger wolf form slamming into its corrupted body with enough force to send us both rolling across the rocky ground.

Its teeth snap inches from my throat, black ichor dripping from yellowed fangs.

The stench of corruption fills my nostrils, acrid and wrong.

We grapple in the moonlight, claws tearing, teeth seeking vulnerable flesh. The corrupted wolf is smaller but moves with unnatural speed, darting in and out of my reach. I feel Ruby's fear pulsing through the bond, but beneath it, a steady determination that gives me strength.

The second scout appears at the edge of the clearing, its attention fixed on Ruby. Panic surges through me as it charges toward her, but I'm locked in combat with the first, unable to intercede.

Ruby stands her ground, the jagged rock held like a weapon. As the corrupted wolf lunges, she sidesteps with surprising agility, bringing the rock down hard on its skull. The impact doesn't kill it but stuns it long enough for her to retreat, putting distance between herself and the dazed creature.

Pride surges through me at her resourcefulness, momentarily distracting me from my own fight.

The corrupted wolf seizes the opportunity, its teeth finding purchase in my shoulder.

Pain lances through me, hot and immediate.

Through the bond, I feel Ruby's answering gasp as the sensation echoes between us.

Rage gives me renewed strength. I twist violently, breaking the creature's hold, then counterattack with savage precision. My jaws close around its throat, tearing through corrupted flesh until the creature goes limp beneath me.

One down.

I turn to find Ruby backing toward the cliff edge, the second scout circling her with predatory patience.

Blood trickles from a cut on her forearm where the creature's claws must have caught her.

The sight of her injury triggers something primal in my wolf, a protective fury that transcends rational thought.

I launch myself at the second scout, catching it off guard. We collide with bone-crushing force, rolling dangerously close to the edge of the ridge. Ruby shouts a warning I can't comprehend in wolf form, but I sense her intention through the bond.

The corrupted wolf snaps at my exposed belly, missing by inches. I use its momentum against it, twisting to force it closer to the precipice. One final lunge and we're both teetering on the edge, locked together in a deadly embrace.

“James!” Ruby's voice cuts through the night as we topple over.