Page 31 of Fat Forced Mate

My wolf paces restlessly, torn between territory protection and the urge to seek her out. To press her against another convenient surface and taste her gasps. To finish what we started in the library before duty interrupted.

But as I stare at the corrupted bundle on my desk, deeper instincts stir. Something is coming. Something that threatens not just our territory, but Luna specifically. Something that Victoria knows more about than she's saying.

The Alpha ring feels heavy on my finger as I begin composing orders for increased security. I can't shake the feeling that we're running out of time. All these pieces—Luna, the lottery, the Cheslem Pack, the protectors who died fifteen years ago—are about to collide in ways none of us are prepared for.

Thunder crashes again, and somewhere in the pack house, glass shatters in response to Luna's magic.

The storm is here. But I'm beginning to think it's nothing compared to what's coming.

***

The training room windows rattle with another crash of thunder as I watch Luna and Thomas review pack hierarchy charts. She sits cross-legged on one of the ancient leather couches, copper hair falling loose around her face as she bends over the documents. The sight stirs memories of quieter days, when this room was our sanctuary—before I ruined everything with pride and fear and misplaced duty.

It’s been almost three weeks since the first trial and its passionate aftermath. I still can’t look at her without my heartrate spiking.

"The Trial of Unity requires more than just memorizing bloodlines," Thomas explains, spreading another chart across the low table. "You need to understand the connections, the alliances, the subtle politics that—"

"That keep hybrids in their place?" Luna's tone could cut glass. "Don't worry, I remember that part perfectly."

My wolf bristles at her pain, but Thomas just smiles mildly. "Actually, I was going to say the politics that are rapidly becoming outdated. Your performance in the first trial already has some of the older families reconsidering their positions."

She looks up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"He means you impressed them." James’ voice makes me jump. I didn't hear him approach—too focused on watching Luna's every movement. My friend stands in the doorway, something knowing in his expression. "Power recognizes power, regardless of bloodline. And you, my dear, have power in spades."

Luna's magic crackles visibly at the words, making the charts flutter. "I haven't done anything special."

"No?" James moves into the room with an easy, loping grace, her opposite in every way. "Well, everyone else seems to think it was pretty special—but then again, what do they know?”

He’s teasing her, sibling-like and gentle, but he’s made his point. I watch Luna process this, see the way she straightens almost unconsciously.

"The second trial starts in three days," Thomas continues, tactfully steering the conversation back to preparation. "You'll need to demonstrate not just knowledge, but understanding. Show them you can navigate pack politics, build alliances—"

"Turn enemies into friends?" Luna's laugh holds no humor. "Jesus. I can’t do this. They hate me. You know they hate me. After—”

Her eyes flick at me for a moment, but the unspoken accusation lands like a physical blow. My wolf whines, remembering exactly how we contributed to those opinions. How our public rejection gave others permission to treat her as less-than. How they celebrated when she vanished and didn’t return.

Thomas catches the look.

"Some mistakes can be corrected," he says without particular inflection, as if it’s a simple fact.

Before I can respond, one of my subordinates bursts into the room. He's still in his border patrol gear, mud splattered up to his knees and something wild in his eyes that sets off every Alpha instinct I possess.

"Three more packs hit, fifty miles out," he says without preamble. "The Stone Creek alliance to the north. Same pattern—wards corrupted, Alphas targeted. But this time, they left survivors. Witnesses."

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Luna's magic surges hard enough to knock the charts off the table. Even Thomas loses his usual composure.

"Survivors?" James’ voice carries an edge I've never heard before. "What did they see?"

My packmate glances at Luna, something complicated passing over his face. "Dark magic. The kind that... that feeds on pack bonds. That twists them into something else. The survivors said the attackers could slip through wards like they weren't even there. Like they knew exactly how to corrupt the protective magic."

"Because they do." James’ words fall like stones into still water. "They've done it before."

An unreadable glance passes between the Morgan siblings—Luna looks a strange mixture of confused and upset. James shakes his head minutely, and she frowns harder, eyes flashing with upset.

My wolf surges forward, demanding we comfort her. Protect her. Claim her properly so no one can ever hurt her again. I take an unconscious step in her direction before I can stop myself.

But Thomas’ hand on my arm halts me. He has materialized at my side as he often does at the best and worst of moments, tempering my impulses.

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