Page 18 of Fat Sold Mate (Silvercreek Lottery Mates #3)

The world explodes into chaos as the first Cheslem tracker breaks through our perimeter.

One moment, James stands at the doorway, his muscles tensed for transformation—the next, he bursts forward in a blur of motion, his bones cracking and reforming as russet fur erupts across his skin.

His wolf is massive, shoulders bunching with power as he lunges toward the corrupted scout who dared to step into the clearing.

“Ruby!” Sera's voice cuts through my frozen shock. “The smoke bombs—now!”

I grab the bundles she prepared—herbs wrapped in cloth, soaked in a mixture Sera concocted from her grandmother's supplies.

My hands shake as I fumble with the matches, the useless protection spell I attempted earlier still burning like shame in my throat.

All that concentration, all that effort, and the wards around the cabin remained dormant, my magic as inaccessible as ever.

“Focus!” Sera snaps, already lighting her own bundle.

The herb packet catches fire, smoke billowing in thick, acrid plumes that make my eyes water. I toss it toward the eastern edge of the clearing where a second tracker emerges, his form distorted by corruption—limbs too long, movements jerky and wrong.

The smoke engulfs him, triggering violent coughing that buys us precious seconds. Through the swirling gray haze, I glimpse James locked in combat with the first scout, teeth bared in a savage snarl as they grapple in the dirt.

“There's another one,” Sera warns, backing toward the cabin door. “Bigger than the others.”

She's right. A shadow detaches from the trees to the north—a massive wolf, corruption evident in the unnatural angles of its joints, in the yellow ichor dripping from elongated fangs. It moves with deliberate menace, ignoring the chaos of the other fights to focus entirely on us.

On me.

Terror freezes my limbs as those glowing eyes lock onto mine. This isn't a scout—this is a killer, sent specifically to eliminate us. Through the bond, I sense James's sudden surge of fear as he detects the new threat, but he's pinned down, unable to reach me.

“Inside!” Sera shouts, yanking me toward the cabin. “We need—”

The corrupted wolf lunges, crossing the distance between us with unnatural speed. Sera and I scatter in opposite directions, the creature's massive body landing where we stood moments before. It whirls toward me, apparently deciding I'm the easier target.

Or the primary one.

I back away, fumbling for another smoke bundle, but they're gone—dropped in my panic or left inside the cabin. The wolf advances, muzzle pulled back in what almost resembles a grin, yellow eyes glittering with malevolent intelligence.

“Hey!” Sera shouts, hurling a rock that bounces harmlessly off the creature's flank. It doesn't even turn, focused entirely on me with single-minded determination.

My back hits a tree. Nowhere left to run.

The grimoire digs into my side where I'd tucked it into my waistband. In desperation, I grab it, flipping to the simplest protection spell—the one I've failed to cast a hundred times before.

“Shield of intent, barrier of will,” I chant, the words spilling from memory as the corrupted wolf coils to spring—then, a string of syllables in Latin I barely understand myself.

I expect nothing. Expect to die with useless words on my lips and regret in my heart.

Instead, the air between us thickens, shimmers, and solidifies. The wolf leaps and rebounds off an invisible barrier with a yelp of surprise and pain.

The spell worked.

For the first time in my life, my magic worked.

There's no time to process this miracle. The barrier is already fading, my untrained ability unable to sustain it. The corrupted wolf shakes itself, clearly confused but no less determined. It circles, testing the weakening shield with experimental lunges.

“Ruby!” Sera appears at my side, breathless and wide-eyed. “Did you just—”

“It won't last,” I gasp, feeling the magic slipping through my fingers like water. “We need to move. Now.”

We break for the trees just as the barrier collapses completely. The wolf howls in triumph, resuming its pursuit. I risk a glance back toward the clearing where James is still fighting, his rust-colored fur now stained with darker patches that might be blood.

“This way!” Sera pulls me down a barely visible game trail, surprisingly nimble despite her healing injuries. “There's a ravine ahead—we can lose it there.”

We crash through underbrush, branches whipping at our faces as the corrupted wolf gains ground behind us. The ground slopes sharply downward, revealing a narrow gully carved by some ancient stream. Without hesitation, Sera slides down the embankment, pulling me after her.

“Stay low,” she hisses, crouching in the shadow of a fallen log. “It might pass over us.”

Heavy footfalls pound above, accompanied by harsh breathing. I hold perfectly still, afraid even the sound of my racing heart might give us away. Through the bond, I feel James's pain, his determination, his desperate worry for me that overrides his own danger.

The corrupted wolf paces the edge of the ravine, sniffing audibly. One wrong move, one sound, and it will find us. I clutch my grimoire to my chest, the leather warm beneath my fingers as if responding to the magic I somehow managed to summon minutes before.

A howl splits the night—not from above us, but from back at the cabin. A summoning call.

The wolf hesitates, clearly torn between its pursuit and the command. After what feels like eternity, it turns away, loping back toward the clearing.

“That's not good,” Sera whispers, her face pale in the moonlight that filters through the trees. “That's a gathering call.”

“James,” I breathe, already scrambling up the embankment. “He's still back there.”

Sera grabs my arm. “Wait! We need a plan. We can't just—”

“He's outnumbered,” I say, yanking free. “And he's my mate.” The word slips out before I can stop it, unexpected and raw.

Understanding flashes across Sera's face. She nods once, then reaches into her pocket to withdraw a small leather pouch—the one we found among her grandmother's things.

“I mixed this while you were setting traps,” she says, her voice suddenly calm with a conviction that raises alarm bells in my mind. “It's wolfsbane and mountain ash, with some other things. It's… well, it’s poison. A lot of poison.”

“What does it do?” I ask, perhaps the stupidest question that has ever left my lips, but I need to know, need her to say it out loud.

“Burns wolves from the inside out,” she says simply. “I can set fire to it, get in the middle of them.”

Horror washes through me. “Sera, no—”

“We need to go,” she interrupts, already moving up the slope. “Your mate needs us.”

We race back toward the cabin, guided by the sounds of fighting that grow louder with each step. The clearing comes into view—and my heart stops.

James stands alone, surrounded by at least five corrupted scouts. And at the edge of the clearing, watching with cold amusement, stands a woman I've only seen once before—in the abandoned cabin where I was held captive, where I was sold to my mate like property.

Petra.

“Well, well,” she calls, her voice carrying easily across the distance. “The witch-born girl returns. And with a friend.” Her gaze sharpens on Sera. “A traitorous friend.”

“You're just meat to them,” Sera calls back, her voice steady despite the fear I feel radiating from her. “All of us—just fuel for their corruption.”

Petra smiles, the expression empty of anything but cruelty. “Pretty words from a dead woman.”

She signals, and the corrupted wolves tighten their circle around James. They're playing with him, I realize—could have killed him already, but are drawing it out for Petra's amusement. Or as bait.

“What do we do?” I whisper, desperately wishing I could summon that protection spell again and somehow expand it to shield James.

Sera's hand closes around mine, her touch startlingly cold. “Get to your mate,” she says quietly. “When I create a distraction, you run to him. Get out through the western edge of the clearing—the trees are thinner there. Run and don't look back.”

“What distraction?” I ask, dread pooling in my stomach. “Sera—”

“My grandmother's counter-ritual,” she interrupts, her eyes never leaving the scene before us. “You need to find it. Complete what she started. I think—I think they must be hiding her notes somewhere. They took them before they killed her. They might be in the pack’s main headquarters. You need to find them, Ruby.”

“Sera, whatever you're planning—”

“It's already decided,” she says with a smile that breaks my heart. “I was dead the moment they forced the corruption on me. At least this way, it means something.”

Before I can stop her, she steps into the clearing, the leather pouch clutched in one hand, a lighter in the other.

“Petra!” she calls, her voice strong and clear. “Still doing Matthias's dirty work, I see. Still a loyal dog.”

Petra's attention snaps to her, eyes narrowing dangerously. “The traitor returns. Matthias will be pleased when I bring back your head.”

“You'll have to catch me first,” Sera taunts, moving deliberately away from where I hide, drawing all eyes to her defiant stance.

I see James's head turn, his wolf eyes widening as he recognizes Sera. Through our bond, I feel his confusion, his dawning horror as he realizes what she intends. He tries to break free from the circle, but the corrupted wolves close ranks, blocking his path.

“ Now , Ruby!” Sera shouts, flicking the lighter and touching it to the pouch. “Run!”

The herbs catch instantly, but instead of the smoke bombs we made earlier, these erupt in violent purple flame. Sera charges directly at Petra, the burning bundle held before her like a weapon.

“No!” I scream, but it's too late.

Sera crashes into Petra, the burning herbs exploding between them in a cloud of toxic smoke.

The corrupted wolves nearest them begin to writhe, howling in agony as the fumes reach their lungs.

Petra shrieks, her human form contorting as she tries to escape, but Sera holds her fast, her own body already trembling from exposure.

The chaos is immediate. James seizes the opportunity, breaking through the disoriented circle of remaining scouts toward me.

I can't tear my eyes from Sera. She looks directly at me through the spreading purple haze, her amber eyes clear and determined even as the poison works through her system. She mouths something—'run'—before collapsing atop the still-struggling Petra.

James reaches me in wolf form, nudging me hard with his muzzle, urging me to move.

“She killed herself,” I whisper, unable to process the enormity of what just happened. “For us.”

James whines, pushing more insistently against my legs. The message is clear: we need to go, now, before the remaining Cheslem wolves regroup or the poison reaches us.

With one last look at Sera's crumpled form, I turn and run.

We flee through the forest for what feels like hours, the sounds of pursuit fading behind us as James leads us on a winding, confusing path designed to throw off trackers. Eventually, we reach a series of rocky outcroppings, and James guides us to a shallow cave hidden behind a curtain of vines.

It appears to have been used by someone before, years ago. There’s a small wooden table inside, covered in old painting supplies, all dried out and cracked now. Evidently, the Cheslem wolves living near here haven’t had much time to paint since their pack became what it is now.

Once inside, James shifts back to human form, his body appearing through the fur in a fluid transformation that still takes my breath away despite everything.

“We should be safe here,” he says, his voice rough, as if he’s scraped it up badly. “For now.”

I say nothing, sinking to the cave floor as the events of the night crash over me in waves. Sera's face, her determined sacrifice, the purple flames consuming her, and Petra—images that will haunt me forever.

“She's gone,” I whisper, the words inadequate for the weight they carry. “She killed herself to save us.”

James kneels before me, his expression unreadable in the darkness. “She made a choice.”

“A choice?” I repeat, something hot and dangerous is building in my chest. “And now she's dead because of your stupid, reckless plan!”

“My plan?” He rocks back as if I've slapped him. “I wanted to ambush them before they reached the cabin. You're the one who insisted we stay and fight on their terms.”

“And you're the one who got pinned down immediately!” I shout, grief transforming into fury that burns through my veins. “If you had listened to me in the first place—”

“If I had listened to you, we'd all be dead,” he snaps, rising to his feet. “Your wards failed, Ruby. Your magic failed. Again.”

The words hit like a physical blow, silencing me momentarily with their cruelty. “My shield spell worked,” I say finally, my voice dangerously quiet. “When it mattered most, my magic worked. But it wasn't enough to save her.”

James runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “I didn't mean—”

“Yes, you did,” I interrupt, exhaustion suddenly replacing anger. “I don’t want to talk to you, James. I don’t want to fucking—I don’t want to look at you right now.”

I turn away, unable to bear the conflicted emotions flickering across his face, bleeding through our bond in waves too complex to interpret. Anger, regret, grief, and beneath it all, a constant pull that neither of us wants to acknowledge.

“She died for us,” I say to the cave wall, my voice barely audible. “The least we can do is make it count.”

Behind me, James sighs, the sound heavy with resignation.

“Get some rest,” he says finally. “I'll take first watch.”

On a thin blanket procured from beneath the old painters’ table, I curl onto my side toward the back of the cave, back to him, my mother’s grimoire clutched against my chest like a shield.

Through our bond, I feel his watchful presence—alert, protective, conflicted.

Outside, the forest falls silent, as if in mourning for the young woman who gave everything to save two strangers bound by blood and circumstance.

In the darkness, I finally allow the tears to fall, silent and burning, for Sera, for James, for myself, and for the impossible task that now falls to us alone.