Page 27 of Fat Sold Mate (Silvercreek Lottery Mates #3)

Dawn breaks over Silvercreek's southern border in watercolor washes of pink and gold, the familiar mountains silhouetted against the brightening sky.

After weeks of running through unfamiliar territory and constant danger, the sight of home should bring relief.

Instead, my stomach knots with dread as I survey what awaits us.

“Something's wrong,” Ruby whispers beside me, crouched low in the underbrush where we've hidden the truck a quarter-mile back.

She's right. The border that should be open, protected only by Luna's magical wards, as Nic suggested—the southernmost point, apparently not overtaken—is now physically guarded. Dark figures patrol in carefully coordinated patterns, their movements too precise for random wildlife. And they’re not ours.

I inhale deeply, filtering through scents carried on the morning breeze.

“Cheslem wolves,” I confirm grimly. “They've established a perimeter.”

Ruby's hand finds mine in the shadows, her fingers cold with fear, before fluttering away again fast, thinking better of it. “All the way around the territory now?”

“Looks that way.” I scan the tree line, counting at least six corrupted wolves visible from our position alone. “They're containing the pack.”

“A siege,” Ruby murmurs. “How do we get through?”

I pull out my phone, powered up using the truck's charger, but it shows only a single bar of service this far from civilization. “First, we need to know what we're walking into.”

Nic's number connects after three attempts, the call dropping twice before finally going through.

“James?” His voice is tense, alert despite the early hour. “Where are you?”

“Southern border,” I reply quietly. “We can see the Cheslem patrols. We can’t get through this. What's the situation?”

Nic's exhale is heavy with relief and exhaustion. “As of last night, we’re totally surrounded. They’re testing the wards daily, looking for weak points. Luna's been reinforcing them, but it's taking a toll, especially with the baby.”

“Casualties?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“None inside the wards yet,” he says, though something in his tone makes my fur bristle. “But they've taken prisoners. Elder Victoria. Elder Amelia. Three others were caught outside when the siege began.”

Beside me, Ruby stiffens, her distress pulsing through our bond.

Elder Amelia had always been kind to her, one of the few pack leaders who treated her with respect despite her outcast status.

And Victoria, despite her traditional views, is Nic's grandmother and our High Elder—a symbol of stability and leadership.

“We need to get inside,” I say. “We have information. Potential help.”

There's a pause, the sound of Nic conferring with someone nearby—Thomas, I think, recognizing the low rumble of my friend's voice.

“Southeast corner,” Nic says finally. “There's a stream crossing where the wards are thinnest. Luna can temporarily open a passage, but you'll need a distraction.” Another pause. “Don’t die. We’ll see you soon.”

The call disconnects, leaving us with a plan that feels tissue-thin.

“This is risky,” Ruby whispers, processing the implications. “If they get through—”

“They won’t,” I cut her off gently. “My sister’s strong. She can hold them back while we get through.”

She nods, composing herself with visible effort. “Southeast corner. How far?”

“Two miles, following the border.” I scan the terrain, mapping our route through the dense forest that will provide cover. “We move fast, stay quiet. If we're spotted—”

“We run,” Ruby finishes. “I know the drill by now.”

Something like pride swells in my chest at her resilience. The witch-born outcast who couldn't shift has become a survivor, a fighter in her own right. Whatever happens next, she's earned her place in this pack a hundred times over.

We move through the forest with practiced stealth, every sense alert for signs of Cheslem scouts.

Ruby follows half a step behind, her movements nearly as silent as my own after weeks of flight and hiding.

The bond between us hums with shared purpose, shared determination that temporarily overshadows the more complicated emotions simmering beneath.

When we reach the southeast corner, I signal for Ruby to halt in a dense thicket of pines. Through gaps in the branches, we can see the boundary where Silvercreek territory officially begins—marked not by any physical indicator but by the subtle shift in energy that all shifters can sense.

And guarding that boundary, pacing with predatory grace along the bank of the narrow stream Nic mentioned, is Petra.

Ruby's sharp intake of breath carries clearly in the morning stillness. I place a warning hand on her arm, feeling her trembling with rage or fear—perhaps both.

Petra looks different than when we last saw her. The corruption has progressed, black veins visible even from this distance, crawling up her neck and across one cheek. She moves with the unnatural fluidity of the deeply corrupted, her human form maintained only through obvious effort and will.

“She should be dead,” Ruby whispers, so quietly only a shifter's hearing could catch it. “Sera sacrificed herself to kill her.”

“But she’s here,” I murmur back. “Which means we adapt.”

Three more Cheslem wolves patrol nearby, all showing signs of advanced corruption. Beyond them, barely visible through the trees, I catch glimpses of Silvercreek wolves on the other side of the boundary—our people, holding the line, looking as exhausted as Nic sounded.

My phone vibrates with an incoming text: Distraction in 3 min. Stay under cover. Be ready.

I show Ruby the message, and we press deeper into cover, muscles tensed for action. Three minutes stretch like hours, each second measured in heartbeats and shallow breaths.

When it comes, the distraction is unmistakable. An explosion rocks the northern perimeter, followed by shouts and howls of alarm. Petra's head snaps toward the commotion, her corrupted features twisting with calculation.

“Go,” she barks to the other guards. “I'll hold this section.”

Two of the three wolves immediately lope toward the disturbance, leaving only Petra and one other guard at our crossing point. Still problematic, but better odds than before.

My phone vibrates again: Now. Luna opening wards. 20 seconds.

“Run for the stream,” I whisper to Ruby. “Don't stop, don't look back. The ward will only open briefly.”

She nods, clutching her pack containing the grimoire and journal. “What about you?”

“Right behind you,” I promise, though we both know what might happen if we're spotted.

I count down silently, timing our dash with the patrol patterns we've observed. When Petra turns to scan the northern horizon, I squeeze Ruby's hand once—our signal.

She breaks cover, sprinting for the stream with desperate speed. I follow two steps behind, body coiled to shift at the first sign of threat.

We're halfway across the open ground when the remaining guard spots us, its howl of alarm cutting through the morning air. Petra whirls, her eyes widening in recognition and hatred.

“Go!” I shout to Ruby, already shifting as I pivot to face our pursuers. Bones crack and reform, fur erupting across my skin as my wolf surges forward with protective rage.

Ruby doesn't hesitate, continuing her headlong dash toward the stream where the air shimmers subtly—Luna's ward temporarily opening to admit her. Through our bond, I feel her terror, not for herself but for me as she crosses the boundary and reaches safety.

I have no such luxury. Petra and her remaining guard converge on me with coordinated precision, cutting off my retreat. I brace for impact as the guard reaches me first, meeting its charge with teeth and claws and desperate strength.

We collide with bone-jarring force, rolling across the forest floor in a tangle of fur and fury.

The corrupted wolf is strong, its movements enhanced by dark magic, but I fight with the knowledge that Ruby is safe, that our information might save Silvercreek, that I just need to survive long enough for help to arrive.

Petra circles, looking for an opening, her corrupted form even more terrifying up close. Black ichor drips from elongated fangs as she grins, actually grins, at the sight of me struggling against her subordinate.

“The Alpha's pet enforcer,” she taunts, voice distorted by corruption. “I’ve been dreaming about killing you, you know.”

I don't waste breath on a growl; I focus instead on the immediate threat. The guard's teeth snap inches from my throat, its corrupted breath hot against my fur. I twist, looking for leverage, finding none as its unnatural strength pins me against the forest floor.

From the corner of my eye, I see Petra moving in for the kill, her claws extended for a strike that will tear out my throat if it lands. There's no time to counter both threats, no way to escape the fatal blow.

It never comes.

A blur of silvery-blonde fur crashes into Petra from the side, sending her tumbling away from me with a howl of surprise and pain. Thomas, his massive wolf form instantly recognizable, follows through with savage precision, driving Petra further from where I struggle with the guard.

The momentary distraction is all I need.

With renewed strength, I surge upward, breaking the guard's hold and countering with a vicious bite to its already corrupted shoulder.

The taste is foul, but I hang on, shaking violently until something gives with a wet snap.

The guard goes limp, not dead but incapacitated, corruption spreading too far for a killing blow to be necessary.

I whirl to help Thomas, but the fight is already over. Petra has retreated, bleeding from multiple wounds, her remaining guard following as they disappear into the forest. Thomas shifts back to human form, breathing hard but grinning with fierce satisfaction.

“Cutting it close as usual, Morgan,” he pants.

I shift too, unable to fight back a grin. “Perfect timing as always, Ennes,” I counter, using his surname in the familiar way of old friends.

Thomas clasps my shoulder, his expression shifting from battle-high to genuine relief. “Good to have you back. Nic was going crazy without his third-in-command. I, on the other hand, think we should send you away for a few weeks every now and then just to keep me sane.”

I shove him none-too-gently, then briefly embrace my friend, desperately happy suddenly to be home.

“Glad to be back,” I say, letting Thomas go. “It’s been… It’s been a journey.”

He eyes me, then informs me dryly, “I can tell.”

“Ruby?” I ask, already knowing she's safe through our bond but needing verbal confirmation.

“With Luna and Fiona at the pack house,” Thomas assures me. “Your mate-to-be made it through without a scratch. Or… just mate, now, I guess.”

The word 'mate' still sends a complicated mix of emotions through me, but I don't correct him. Whatever Ruby and I are to each other, it's far more than the forced bond we began with.

We jog through Silvercreek territory, the familiar forest a welcome sight after weeks away. Pack members emerge from homes and gathering areas as word of our return spreads, faces showing relief and hope that cuts deep after everything we've witnessed.

The pack building comes into view—the old Blackwood family home that serves as Silvercreek's central meeting place during crises.

On the wide porch, Ruby stands with Luna and Fiona, the three women locked in a tearful embrace that speaks of relief and shared fear.

My sister, six or seven months pregnant now, looks utterly exhausted, drained by what has now been weeks of work keeping the wards up.

I make a note to give her a proper hug later, when we have a moment.

Nic emerges from inside, his face showing the strain of leadership during the siege but breaking into a rare grin at the sight of us. We clasp forearms in the traditional greeting of packmates, words unnecessary between Alpha and enforcer.

“You look like hell,” he says finally, stepping back to survey the evidence of our journey written in new scars and wary eyes.

“You should see the other guys,” I reply, the familiar banter a thin veneer over deeper currents.

Nic's expression sobers. “How bad is it out there?”

“Worse than we thought,” I admit. “But we brought back information that might help. A counter-ritual for the corruption.”

Hope flares in his eyes, quickly tempered by the caution of a leader who's learned not to trust easy solutions. “Let's hear it, then. All of it.”

As we move toward the pack house, my gaze finds Ruby's across the porch.

Through our bond, I feel her anxiety, her determination, and beneath it all, her uncertainty about what comes next.

About what we tell them regarding the counter-ritual's requirements.

About whether the tenuous connection we've built during our time away will survive our return to the pack that initially forced us together.

Luna says something that makes Ruby smile, the expression transforming her face with a brightness I've rarely seen. My chest tightens at the sight, at the realization of how precious that smile has become to me.

Whatever comes next, whatever battles await us, that smile is worth fighting for. Worth surviving for.

Worth coming home for.