Page 28 of Fat Sold Mate (Silvercreek Lottery Mates #3)
The sanctuary of Silvercreek feels surreal after weeks on the run.
Even with Cheslem wolves prowling our borders, there's safety in these walls that I've missed with a physical ache.
It feels like I must have been living in some bizarre past life when I tried to run away.
The pack house buzzes with activity—shifters moving with purpose, carrying weapons, consulting maps, preparing for a siege that's already begun.
Luna leads me to her private study, a small room off the main library that smells of herbs and old books and the lingering traces of magic.
Her pregnancy has advanced significantly in our absence; her belly now a prominent curve beneath her flowing dress.
Despite this, or perhaps because of it, power radiates from her in palpable waves.
“You look awful,” she says, settling carefully into a worn leather chair.
“You look even more pregnant than the last time I saw you,” I counter, managing a weak smile.
“Astute observation.” Luna gestures to the chair opposite hers. “Now tell me everything.”
I place Sera's journal and my mother's grimoire on the table between us. My hands hover protectively over both, reluctant to release them even to my best friend. These books represent different paths—my mother's legacy and a stranger's sacrifice—both now converging on a future I never imagined.
“We found a potential solution,” I begin, flipping open Sera's journal to the marked pages. “A counter-ritual for the corruption. But it's... complicated.”
Luna leans forward, her amber eyes—so like her brother's—scanning the cramped handwriting with practiced ease. Her finger traces the diagrams, lips moving silently as she absorbs the ritual's requirements. When she looks up, her expression is grave.
“This would work,” she says finally. “The theory is sound. But the power required...” She trails off, one hand moving unconsciously to her belly.
“Could you do it?” I ask, hope, and dread tangling in my chest.
Luna's laugh holds no humor. “In my current state? After weeks of maintaining the territory wards?” She shakes her head. “I'd likely kill myself and the baby trying.”
The hope I'd been nurturing—that Luna's greater magical strength could shoulder this burden—withers. “Then it's useless,” I mutter, slumping back in my chair.
“I didn't say that.” Luna taps the journal thoughtfully. “The ritual requires a conduit—a completed mate bond. It draws power from that connection.” Her gaze sharpens on my face. “You and James have a bond now, right? Fully consummated?”
Heat floods my cheeks, embarrassment warring with indignation at the direct question. “That's—I'm not discussing—”
“Your non-answer is answer enough—you know you can’t hide from me,” Luna says, a knowing smile playing at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “Good. At least something positive came from this nightmare.”
“It's not—we're not—” I stammer, then stop, composing myself. “The situation is complicated.”
“Complicated,” Luna repeats, her tone making it clear what she thinks of this assessment. “Is that what they’re calling it?”
“It’s certainly one word for it,” I mutter, remembering the cave, the motel room, the way James's hands felt against my skin. The bond pulses between us even now, carrying echoes of his presence from somewhere else in the pack house.
Luna's expression softens. “Ruby, I love you to death. But we don’t lie to each other. I’m starting to believe we’re a bit incapable of it, at this point.”
“That's not—” I begin, then sigh, suddenly too tired for pretense. “The choice was taken from us. And… and emotions were high. And, really, God knows if he even wants me. And there's still the issue of what I overheard.”
“What exactly did you hear?” Luna asks, her voice gentle but insistent.
I tell her about that day months ago—the laughter, the cruel words about someone's size that I'd assumed were about me, the way I'd withdrawn before James could reject me outright. As I speak, Luna's expression shifts from concern to confusion to something like exasperation.
“And you never actually confronted him about this?” she asks when I finish.
“Why would I? To have him confirm what I already knew? That, despite whatever was growing between us, when he was with his friends, I was still just the fat outcast witch?”
Luna pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ruby, did it never occur to you that he might have been talking about something else entirely?”
“Like what?” I demand, defensive heat rising in my chest. “It was pretty clear—”
Before she can answer, a sharp knock interrupts us. Nic appears in the doorway, his expression grim.
“We need you both,” he says without preamble. “The Cheslem captive is awake. He's asking for Sera.”
My stomach drops. “Nic, about Sera—”
“I know,” he cuts me off. “James explained. But this kid seems to think she's alive, and he's our best source of information right now. We need to handle this carefully.”
Luna rises with awkward grace, one hand supporting her lower back. “The ritual can wait an hour. Let's see what he knows.”
The pack's makeshift holding cell is actually a converted storage room in the basement, reinforced with mountain ash and silver—precautions against shifter strength and magic alike.
The young man inside looks barely twenty, with hollow cheeks and dark circles beneath eyes that hold too much knowledge for his age.
Black veins crawl across his neck and disappear beneath his collar, but his gaze is clear, unclouded by the madness that affects fully corrupted wolves.
“This is Caleb,” Nick introduces him as we enter. “He was captured three days ago attempting to cross our northern border. According to him, he was looking for Sera.”
At the mention of her name, Caleb surges forward, stopped only by the chains binding him to the wall—a necessary precaution given the corruption flowing through his veins.
“You know her,” he says, eyes locking on me with unnerving intensity. “I can smell her on you.”
I swallow hard, glancing at Nic, who nods almost imperceptibly. “Yes,” I confirm softly. “I know Sera.”
“Where is she?” Caleb demands, desperation sharpening his words. “She said she found a way to fight the corruption. Said her grandmother's journal—”
“Caleb,” I interrupt, the weight of what I must tell him settling in my chest like stone. “Sera's dead. She sacrificed herself to save us from Petra.”
The young man goes utterly still, disbelief etched across his features.
“No,” he whispers. “She can't be. She was the strongest of us. The smartest.”
“She was brave,” I agree, stepping closer despite Nic's warning hand on my arm. “She gave her life to ensure we brought her grandmother's journal here. To give others like you a chance.”
Caleb's head drops, shoulders shaking with silent grief. When he looks up again, his eyes shine with unshed tears and something harder—determination, perhaps, or vengeance.
“Then it can't be for nothing,” he says hoarsely. “What she did. What she gave.”
“It won't be,” Luna promises, her voice gentle but firm. “We have her grandmother’s journal. We think we can reverse the corruption.”
Hope flickers across Caleb's face, quickly tempered by caution. “If that's true, you need to hurry. Matthias is planning something bigger than just this siege.”
“What do you mean?” Nic asks, suddenly alert.
Caleb shifts uncomfortably, the chains rattling with his movement. “The full moon. Three days from now. He's been preparing for months, gathering power, corrupting more wolves. The captives he's taken—he plans to use them in a ritual. A sacrifice.”
Ice spreads through my veins. “Elder Victoria? The others?”
Caleb nods grimly. “Their power, their life force—he'll use it to strengthen the corruption in his inner circle. Make them nearly unstoppable.” His gaze meets mine, fear and determination warring in his expression. “And once he's done, Silvercreek will be next.”
“How do you know this?” Nic demands, skepticism edging his words.
“Because I was supposed to be part of it,” Caleb admits, shame coloring his voice. “Before Sera showed me there was another way. Before she helped me start fighting the corruption. It’s why I ran after she left. I wanted to find her. I ended up here instead.”
Luna and I exchange glances, the implications settling between us with terrible weight.
“Three days,” I murmur. “The counter-ritual requires preparation. Ingredients we might not have.”
“And the captured wolves won't survive the full moon,” Caleb adds quietly. “Not if Matthias completes his ritual.”
Nic's expression hardens into the mask of leadership I've seen so often on James's face—determination overriding fear, calculation replacing emotion.
“Then we have three days to mount a rescue and prepare your counter-ritual,” he says with finality. “Impossible odds. Just another day in Silvercreek.”
Luna smiles grimly. “We've faced worse.”
“Have we?” I can't help asking.
Her hand finds mine, squeezing with surprising strength. “We have you now. And James. And this.” She nods toward the journal peeking from my bag. “Sometimes the universe gives us exactly what we need, exactly when we need it most.”
I want to believe her. Want to believe that our forced mating, Sera's sacrifice, all the pain and fear of the past weeks serve some greater purpose. That the bond humming between James and me—complicated and unwanted as it began—might be the very thing that saves us all.
But as Caleb's words echo in my mind, as the full moon's deadline looms just three days away, I can't shake the feeling that we're already too late. That some prices are too high, even for survival.
That some bonds, once broken, can never truly be repaired.